Love One: 5 Lives ago
Near Shanghai, 1523
I was a Japanese swordsman and you were the daughter of a Chinese merchant. Japan was in the midst of a civil war and a local trading dispute suddenly overflowed into the Chinese city of Ningbo, near modern day Shanghai. I was garrisoned with a Japanese force. Your father was a successful Chinese tradesman with his own fleet in the region.
In the midst of a skirmish between the two armies, I was wounded and bleeding. I managed to escape the battlefield but I was drifting in and out of consciousness, ready for death far away from my homeland.
You discovered me on your way home. You were beautiful.
At first you thought me a local Chinese soldier but soon realized I was the enemy. Through your infinite kindness, you still carried me home. Knowing your father would kill me, you hid me in the outhouses.
You allowed me to recuperate and recover. When I had my strength back, you gave me back my sword but I instantly put it away and vowed that I would not fight again, now that I had felt such tenderness. I thanked you for saving my life.
I told you that I had fallen in love with you. You smiled. You held my hand and told me that you loved me too. I found the courage to ask your father for your hand in marriage.
He refused.
I asked again.
He refused.
I asked again.
He refused for the final time and said if I did not leave China, he would inform the authorities.
I said farewell to you. You promised me you would find me in the next life. Before I left, I gave you my sword and taught you how to use it, to protect yourself always from danger. You were gracious and strong.
I promised once more I would never fight in anger again. And I promised I would pray for you always. And I promised I would never forget the girl that saved my life.
I returned to Japan and retreated to the mountains. I found a teacher who would perfect my swordsmanship skills, as an art form, as a way of life. I wanted to become a master of the sword but never use it in aggression. After a few years, I learnt the skill as well as my master but I never forgot you in my prayers.
My master became jealous of my swordsmanship and challenged me to a duel to see who was greater. It was a fight to the death. I refused to fight my master. He killed me.
In the meantime, you had married a local Chinese sailor. He was a good man and you had four children. But each time you looked out across the seas towards Japan, you would always think of the Japanese soldier you once loved. You kept my sword by your bedside. Even many years later, after your children had grown, you would still gaze across the sea, thinking where I might be now, not knowing I had kept my promise to you many years before.
Love Two: 3 Lives ago
Paris, 1855
I was a French policeman working endless night shifts. I had lost my wife and first child during childbirth many years before. You were a young woman living with your mother in the 5th Arrondissement. You were blind since childhood after an outbreak from measles. You had recently lost your father due to tuberculosis. I regularly noticed you on my policing rounds in my neighbourhood, you would often be walking out of the local hospital with your guide dog.
One cold day, you lost control of the dog and slipped to the ground. I quickly ran to you and helped you back up. I asked why you visited the hospital so regularly. You said you often played piano for the dying patients.
I asked if I may be able to listen to you play next time. You smiled and said yes.
When I heard you play, your music was enchanting and you were stunning. I began listening to you every time you visited the hospital. You were the highlight of my shift. I used to walk you home and we talked endlessly. You asked me to describe what I saw and I would describe every detail of the bustling Parisian streets vividly. Most of all, I told you that you were the most beautiful of everything I could describe.
You smiled when I said that. I fell in love with you and you with me. I asked you to marry me. You said no. You said without your sight, you had vowed to dedicate your life to God. You said if God gave you your sight back, you would marry me. I accepted your answer humbly.
I still used to walk you home. I helped look after your mother when she became sick. And I looked after you when you got sick for the last time.
I never remarried.
Love Three: 4 Lives Ago
London, 1815
Your parents were Scottish. You were an only child and I too was an only child. Your family was poor as was mine. When you were a child, your family moved to London.
Your father was looking for work in the fastest growing city in the world. My father was a labourer on a new industry called the railways. He helped your father get a job in the industry, laying down tracks through the city.
You and I spent many days together as children. We ran around the smog-filled city of London, causing all sorts of cheeky mischief. We played on the river bank and threw stones and small objects into the murky river Thames. We watched the first construction of the magnificent Waterloo Bridge, over the thousands of rowing boats passing underneath. We became inseparable and the greatest of friends.
In an accident, your father was irreversibly injured at work and lost his job. He could no longer sustain life in London or support your family. He planned to move his family back to Scotland where it was cheaper. I hoped you would stay with me and I asked you to marry me. You were only 17. I was 19.
You said no, you said you had to look after your father. I was so upset at your rejection, I did not come to say goodbye when you left. You cried. I was still angry but I never forgot you. A few years later, after my own trials and tribulations, I realized it was only you that I truly loved.
I traveled to Scotland where I thought you lived to try and find you. I did not realize your father had changed his surname when he came to England to have a better chance of finding work. I did not realise you too had a different surname from the one I had known. I could not find you even though you were just ten miles away from where I was looking. I vowed if I found you once more, I would never let you go again. But I returned to London unable to do so.
I joined the civil service of the British Empire and immigrated to Australia to forget London and Waterloo Bridge. I did not know you would return to London just a month after I had left, looking for me too. Again you could not find me but vowed you would never let me go if you found me again.
Love Four: 6 Lives Ago
Eastern Europe, near Budapest, 1442
I was an orthodox Christian. My tribe was nomadic in nature and they called us Romas. Our family traveled back and forth, from places as far away as Vienna to Moscow.
You too were an orthodox Christian and you lived in a village near modern day Budapest. Your father was a farmer and was a proud man. Your family owned their own lands and they were wealthy.
I, as a teenager would often roam the plains of Europe on my own with my loyal horse. I preferred the solace of my own thoughts as I drifted through the seasons of the year. On collections of paper, I would sit under the shade of a leafy tree, draw endlessly and dream up stories of unstoppable heroes and deceitful villains. One day whilst my family put up their camp, I traveled many miles away, I sat and began to draw a character for a new story I was writing.
I noticed in the distant fields there were a group of girls vivaciously playing. One girl looked familiar, like I had met her before, at some forgotten moment of my travels. She was beautiful and I was mesmerized.
She was you.
Your friends eventually noticed me and I waved awkwardly but it was you that sweetly came up to me and asked what I was doing.
I explained I was drawing and writing a new story. You asked to look at my work. I was shy at first but you convinced me to show you. You blushed when you saw I had drawn you, a figure of a girl playing in the fields. You were kind enough to say it was a beautiful drawing. I said it was because the subject too was beautiful.
You smiled, sat down and read the story I was writing. You said you really liked it and asked for more. I then promised you I would write a story especially for you. I explained that my family traveled across Europe constantly and I was never in the sky place. But I also promised I would still deliver my writings to you each week, no matter where I was. And each week from then on, I would make long journeys to get to you.
We met by the very same tree and I handed you more of my stories, scraps of paper with passionate words scribbled over them. We spoke and laughed a lot. We soon became very important to each other and eventually we fell in love. I asked you to marry me. You were happy and said you would inform your parents. The next week I had made a very long trip, excited to see you with more writings. You were not by the tree. Instead there was a letter from you.
The letter said your parents refused you to speak to a gypsy boy anymore. You wrote that you still wanted to read my stories and so I carved a hole into the tree and hid my writings in there. The next week I returned with more writings.
Each week, my writings were gone from the hidden carved space in the tree but I never saw you. You always left a note of recognition in its place along with a freshly picked flower. Each week I returned to the tree, just to deliver the stories and each week you left me a symbol of your love. After many months like this, there was a different letter from you, this time saying your parents had arranged your marriage to a local boy.
You wrote that you would always keep hold of my vast amounts of writings and read them to remind you of me always. And if God gave you another chance to read my stories, you would never stop. I rode away in tears but soon turned around. An Ottoman army was fast advancing towards me. I retreated to Buda, the big town near your village.
I was killed in the subsequent siege as I tried to escape and make my way to you and help your village. You found out I had been killed and you were the one who buried me. You showed all my writings to your family and explained I had traveled across Europe each week to get them to you. Your family apologized to you and then to me, placing flowers on my grave. The village was burnt soon after by the Ottomans. My writings were burnt to.
Love Five: 8 Lives ago
Northern India, 1220
You were the daughter of a family who had immigrated to India. Your family followed a form of Sufi Islam. I was a local Hindu boy. I was curious about these new peoples and I too, was very spiritual.
I went to watch some of the new strange prayers of these new people but I was not impressed. I walked home not quite understanding. In the fields I walked past you. You had a peace and calm around you that I could not explain. You were doing something very odd.
You were giving food out to all the poor and diseased in the community. Although I thought it was absurd I was compelled to see. You came up to me and asked if I wanted food. I was very embarrassed.
You told me not to be, you said God's food is for everyone, for the rich and for the poor. I looked up and smiled. You said the highest form of devotion was to redress the misery of those in distress and to fulfil the needs of the helpless. You said it with such serenity, my heart fell attached to yours at that very instant. I noticed how beautiful you truly were.
I too soon started helping with your acts of goodness. My family though became worried about whom I was associating with. I generally ignored them. We talked a lot about God, I would question and you would answer.
You talked passionately. You said in life, we must develop river-like generosity, sun-like affection and earth-like hospitality. We soon discovered God within each other and fell in love.
Our respective families noticed our friendship and were disgusted. They hastily arranged our marriages to elsewhere and pulled us apart. I never saw you again but I heard many years later you were unhappy in your marriage. I too had been unhappy in mine. I once confided in a Hindu priest, asking his advice on how I would find peace, knowing I had found God in another girl.
I told him we were both unhappy. He told me one cannot ignore the love of God. He told me to find you and marry you in the next life.
Love Six: 7 Lives ago
Northern Africa, 1328
I was a traveler, roaming through the Saharan desert trading jewels. I was wealthy but free in spirit. You were the daughter of a Berber tribesman. Your people were nomadic although you had recently settled in the Western Sahara.
I often navigated through the desert following the stars. They were my guide through the long nights. On one occasion, during a sandstorm, I became terribly lost in the desert. I lost my bearings completely. I struggled to find my way and soon became weak and exhausted. In the sky, a bright star appeared that I had never noticed before. It gave me a new hope and I followed it.
You were also a star gazer, you saw the heavens in them. That night too, you were watching the sky. You noticed the same bright star and you too, had never seen it before. It gave you an indescribable feeling of inspiration.
You gazed at the star though the night. And at sunrise, when the star faded, you looked out and noticed me struggling on the horizon. You rushed out into the desert and gave me water. And with those drops, you too gave me your strength.
I thanked you and in return, I offered you gold and silver as payment. You declined and said the stars were your riches. I told you a bright star had led me to you and you told me a bright star had allowed you to find me.
I said it was a miracle. You disagreed, you said it was God.
I stayed in your town a while longer. Each night, we would count the stars together. You described their meanings and I told you I was meant to find you. You said you felt the same way. I asked you to marry me soon after.
You were very happy and your family was happy too. They knew I was kind and they knew I was wealthy. Your father arranged the wedding for a year's time but he said I must provide a dowry with many jewels. I agreed and told you I needed to trade more to earn this. I promised you I would be back within one year.
You told me if I ever wanted to know where you are, I should look into the sky and search for the brightest star. I smiled at you and you smiled back. I told you that you were more beautiful than the brightest star and left on my journey.
I worked hard and I traded well. I soon had all the wealth required to afford the dowry. I began my journey back with happiness.
However, I was captured by a barbarian tribe. They stole my money and they imprisoned me. I tried to escape many times but could not. Each night I gazed up looking at the brightest star and thought of you, knowing you were with me. However I soon missed my deadline to get back to you.
Your father grew angry and slurred me. He called me an impostor. You pleaded with him to wait longer. You looked up at the bright star, knowing I was there but your family grew impatient and soon convinced you that I had abandoned you for someone else. In your heart you did not believe them. Your father accepted another proposal from another suitor, someone who was not guided by the stars.
You were told to stop waiting for me. You had no choice and you were soon married. I finally escaped from my captors and made my way back to you, impoverished but with all of my hope. However, I arrived too late. I told you what had happened to me and you cried. You said you could not change things now but said you would be with me always, each night, under the stars. You told me to look for the brightest star and that you would be under it. I said you too would always find me under your skies for as long as I lived. I said I would find you again. The stars would lead me to you.
Love 7: 1 life ago
Birmingham, USA, 1963
We were both 18. We attended the same segregated high school, we were both African-Americans. You were the most popular girl in school. You were beautiful and passionate and believed in the justice of civil rights. I on the other hand, was a shy boy but a hard working student. Secretly I had admired you for the longest time.
Tensions in the community were high at the time. We were protesting for our rights, equalities and liberties. Both you and I once attended the same march. However it quickly turned into a violent riot. The police became very heavy handed and in the panicking crowds, I noticed you had fallen. I saw you struggling to get to your feet and the police becoming more aggressive as they were approaching you.
I ran through the crowds to get to you. I helped you on your feet in time for you to run but just in time for me to be beaten.
I sustained many fractures and was hospitalized. You came to visit me and to say thank you. I said I would have done anything to protect you. You smiled and from then on, you visited me every day. We spoke enormously and laughed. I told you how I felt. You blushed and helped me recover fully. I told you that you were a great soother. We became very close thereafter and fell in love.
Times were tough, unemployment was high and I could not find a job despite my grades. The army was recruiting and President Johnson was expanding the war effort. It was my only chance of earning and so I left for Vietnam. I promised you the war was sure to end soon and when I return, we would be married. I said I would always protect you.
I did return soon after but without a leg and a wound on my abdomen that would not heal. In the meantime you had found training to become a nurse. You cared for me day and night and still asked me to marry you.
I smiled and said as soon as I am healed. But my wounds became worse and I became very sick. You cupped your hands around mine and whispered you would also always protect me, as I died in your arms.
Love 8: 2 lives ago
Johannesburg, South Africa, 1902
The British, The Boers and the Zulus had fought with each other for many years. We were both Zulu and had both survived the concentration camps the British had imprisoned us in a year earlier.
We had met each other there and inspired each other with dreams of freedom. We had fallen in love by the time we were released. We returned to the scorched villages that were once our homes and tried to re-establish our lives.
The villagers had no money and so all the men left for the gold rush in Johannesburg to work as laborers in the mines. I left for the mines with my best friend. I left you too, the girl I loved, behind. My friend also left his sweetheart. I promised we would both be back again once we had money and find our loves. You gave me a golden coin you once had found in the concentration camp. You said it would lighten up the darkness of the mines like it had for you in the camps. You asked me to hold it always. I said it was you that had lit up my darkest days in the concentration camp.
Once we started work, I wrote to you every day. The mines were dark and lonely but I clenched onto the coin and it gave me your comfort.
There was once a terrible explosion underground in the mines. The laborers rushed out in panic. I helped my best friend escape but I got trapped in the rubble as he tried to help me out. I could not escape but I urged my friend to do so, to find his sweetheart and continue to love in this world.
I gave him our coin and him to return it to you. I told him to tell you that the coin would always represent the light of love you gave to me and if you wanted, you had my blessings to pass it on.
Love 9: Current life
This world, 2010
I was a doctor and so were you. Our religions were different but our cultures similar. We met by sheer coincidence through mutual friends at a restaurant table in London. That evening I noticed an amazing sparkle in your eyes as though I had seen them somewhere before. I was so struck by your eyes I told a friend what I had felt. But from that night on, I thought no more of it.
I soon made plans to go abroad. I had always wanted to work with and palpate the lives of those less fortunate then myself. A few months later, just prior to my leaving, you randomly contacted me on Facebook, wishing me success on my travels.
We messaged back and forth during the next few days as we both were working odd shifts at our hospitals. And one night, a simple Facebook conversation suddenly lasted many hours and continued for many nights and many weeks running. We joked at first and then we discussed the trivia and soon the more serious trials of life.
I asked for your phone number in the most silly and unique of ways. I wrote you a beautiful story and within it was a hidden code defining my own phone number. You deciphered the code and called. We spoke to each other and I heard you giggling at my silly story.
It was soon time for me to leave on my travels. I visited you on my last weekend, to say thank you for your wonderful company. That day we strolled the entire day and we spoke endlessly. You said you wished you could travel too and I said I wished you could come with me.
We discussed God. You said loving Him was the most important thing in this world. And I said it was the God within us that allowed us to love in this world. You smiled.
We walked along Waterloo Bridge and I felt an indescribable peace. You felt it too. I told you that you were beautiful. We discussed religion and we both grew sad, knowing the difference in our family status. But we both agreed, God is universal.
I left on my travels feeling I was leaving someone behind I really should not be. I knew I had to forget you and you knew you had to forget me. However neither of us could. I wrote to you from my distant travels regularly and you wrote back saying you were travelling with me through my words. I described the starry skies and shared the stories of hope in all the people I met along the way.
I came back with hope, hoping to find you. You hoped I would find you too. And we found each other and this time we confirmed it was right. We asked our families their permission for us to be together. They said no and that the decision was black and white. We argued that the world was more than black and white, that it was made up of multiple beautiful colours. They said the religions were different. We said it was the same God in all his religions and in the hearts of all His people. They were adamant and you were pulled away from me.
You said you would dedicate yourself to your family in this life and dedicate yourself to finding me in the next life. I smiled knowing I had heard this many lives ago and that this was the last of our nine loves in nine lives.
You said you knew you always loved me and that in this world you would seek God alone. I tirelessly wrote and hand-made you a defining book so that you could keep my words with you if nothing else.
You told me to write a love story. You said people wanted to read about love but would never understand. So I played our music, lit a candle, closed my eyes and wrote our story.
That is a very very very long story but I read it all as it was so interesting and each life was completely different. I can imagine that it took you a lot of time to write this and you also had to learn some facts to put this together..
I can't even chose my favorite part as they all were beautiful and sad in their own sense. I just feel sorry that even now it doesn't work out for them. I wonder how many lives they will need to finally get together :) It seems like they will be running into each other forever with no further progress.. sad story :)
It's nice that you shared this story on Valentine's day even though it is a bit sad .. but this is how love and life are anyway :)
Thank you for sharing and have a lovely day!
Dear Delishtreats, thank you for the kind words and persevering with the long long story, sorry about that! I'm glad you liked it though and took the time to write, it means a lot to me - Happy Valentine's Day!
Fantastic write up you made in there. You made me learn a lot about history of the past and I look forward to read more from you often. Keep the writing spirit up always
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Thank you for the kind words ferrate, I'll do my best to keep on writing!
You are humbly welcome
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Thank you Curie, that's very kind of you to say. I hope I can keep writing more for the Steemit community.
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Is this fictional or real?
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I guess it couldbe real, each story written was based on an element of a real life love story. The rest is imagination.