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Inspired by "The Lucky One" - Nicholas Sparks

Posted on Friday, 27 December 2013 @ Friday, December 27, 2013

"Sometimes I just think about the things that happen in my life, in war, and thank all the luck I had to keep me alive."

The yellowing piece of paper fell to the floor, barely making a sound. He inched closer towards her, looking at her straight in her olive green eyes. The eyes he gazed first thing in the morning, and the last memory in his dreams. He memorized every speck of color, around her irises, along the dark black pupil which mirrored her heart and soul. He longed to pick up the pieces of her shattered past, throw it out the window, burn it in the fireplace. Whatever it took to to hear her laugh, just one more time. One more time before he gathered his own and destroyed it. He ran his thumb across her eyebrows, tracing the curve at the edge of her eye, just slightly above the scar he had yet to know the story behind.

"Sometimes I think, why me? What have I done to deserve life the other men couldn't?"

She couldn't see him like this, not here, not now. Do soldiers cry? Soldiers, who spend their lives protecting their country, fighting numerous battles, not knowing whether or not they'll see the daylight after the next bomb fires. Do soldiers cry? He felt her hand wrapping around his own, nearly forgetting how warm it felt. It has been a while. A long, long while. Her finger gently brushed the stray tear falling from his eyelid, before placing her forehead against his. He looked up and stared into her eyes, remembering the times they spent together; The picnics by the river in the middle of the old dock, where they'd stay until the skies turned a bright shade of pink and orange, the mornings walking Murray out in the streets, Friday night movies. And the nights before he left for war. He remembered the way she'd bury her head in the sheets, muffling the cries so he couldn't hear them. He remembered watching her walk to the edge of the windowsill, quietly staring out the window at the break of dawn. The steady stream of tears flowing down her cheek, the heave of her chest as she struggled to breathe through her pain. And when she returned to wrap her arms around him, she always, always kissed his forehead, lingering for a moment before cradling him to her chest and singing their favorite song in a hushed tone. He knew she thought about their future constantly. Who wouldn't? It wasn't easy having a husband who was always on call of duty. He knew she clung to the hope of seeing him coming home alive during the months he was away. He also knew, that with every letter she wrote to him came a silent prayer to keep him safe and sound. He fought, for a country he called his own. It has always been that way, ever since the moment he stepped foot into a foreign land, ready to die. Ready to give up his life if there was none left to fight for. But it wasn't that way anymore. Not now, not when he had more than life to fight for. He could think of a million answers to offer to his endless questions. But he also knew, there was only one to everything he could never answer.

"Sometimes, when I sit across the battlefield and think of home, I know I live because of you. And I will continue to fight for life, as long as you're in it."

Kaleidoscope of Craziness

Hi, I'm Belle. Friend. Dreamer. Lover.
I write to change, to express, to share. All pictures are mine, unless stated. Enjoy roaming around ;)

Some people are destined to sing. To act. To host a talk show. To become a songwriter for recording artistes. To take phenomenal pictures from around the world. To teach. To heal and to nurse. To be in an orchestra or to play an instrument by the streets to entertain the weary passerbys. Everyone is destined to be an individual who'll change the lives of others someday in their own unique way to touch hearts and heal broken ones. Everyone has a destiny, a road to walk and a path to remember when you're old and sitting by the fireplace, reminiscing the old times. I believe mine, is to write.

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