Boo! 😆 Guess who? Yeah your right, it's...MOI! Long time no talk eh? I believe I made an announcement that I wasn't going to write in another BILLION years. But jeez I seriously don't know how to keep my own promises. 🤣 So em yes, this is my next OS. Do read it and by god you BETTER comment! That is...if you love me *flutters eyelashes*.
Oh and if your interested to read any of my others works. I recently made a post that has all my writings updated and the links provided. SO don't stress me out with inboxing me asking for links, because I go psycho trying to find them. 🤣
https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/topic/1650175
'Forget me not
A bead of sweat trickled down his palpitated hands as he continued to scribe upon the blank piece of paper. Knowing what he intended to do, and realizing the pain that it was going to cause her, compelled him to close his eyes in sheer anguish. Time stood still, moments tore by, memories of his beloved tormented the very core of his broken soul. So immersed was he in the depth of his remorse that he did not realize when the ink of his pen was soon combined with the mark of his blood. Black scribes ultimately dissolved in the pool of his blood; his hands grasping the pen so tightly, causing the wound on the palm of his hand, to re-open.
Forget me not Mon Amour; Forgive me my beloved.
Concluding the letter with those final words, Maan folded the piece of paper and gently placed it through the white envelope. Sealing it with swipe of his fingers, he turned the envelope, writing her name on the front. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he grabbed the photo frame and stared longingly at his wife's photo. 'Geet' he whispered with all the love he could muster, as he closed his eyes and placed a kiss upon her smiling face. It felt like it was only yesterday, when he had first met her, by chance or if you like to believe, through destiny. He stood up, without releasing his hold of the photograph, and began walking up the staircase, towards their bedroom.
Standing in the middle of the room, Maan glanced at the countless medals displayed in the cupboard. It reminded him of his squadron years, when he had saved the lives of many, and ended the lives of millions. The explosions, gunshots, the sound of his men screaming in agony, the mere silence of death. Blocking his ears in order to stop himself from hearing the traumatic noises, Maan's legs buckled as he found himself on his knees, surrendering to his guilt. Doubling over in pain, he recalled the hurtful moments when he had grasped his dying friends in his embrace, watching them breathe their last in his arms. Burying the innocent people, carrying the bloodied and wounded children in his arms, listening to their mothers wailing in tears, having to endure their pleadings for mercy, for peace, for shelter, for assistance. It was intolerable then, and it continued to be unbearable now.
Opening the closet, Maan touched the fabric of his wifes clothing. Her scent lingered in the room, giving him a reason to smile again. With dread, he took out his Field Marshal uniform, which was one of the highest military ranks in today's army. Was he proud of his status? Was he proud of his wealth? Scanning the richly decorated room which oozed with power and prosperity, all he could see was the blood smeared against the wall, the children's bodies lying scattered on the ground, and the sound of his friends labored breathing as they pleaded for their life. Shaking his head in repulsion, Maan wore his uniform, and stood uncertainly before the mirror. He did not see a young man, tall, lithe and muscular. He did not see a man whom was greatly respected by the nation, awarded for his courage and patriotism. All he saw was a helpless man with the blood of countless innocents, penetrated on the palm of his hands.
Straightening his broad shoulders, he told himself that his decision was right. It was the only way to escape from his haunting nightmares which attacked his soul every passing night. Not willing to leave so soon, Maan allowed himself several moments to ponder about his memories shared with Geet. It was because of her, that he had been compelled to take this decision.
Recollecting past events, he recalled the first time he had initially laid eyes on her. Squirming in the freezing winter of France, he had roamed around the deserted streets, firearm in hand. The burning buildings, the distant sound of gunshots and explosions brought no effect to his cold soul. He could not allow himself to feel remorse or sympathy for those he killed with his bare hands. It was a war, and being in his position, he could not allow his morals or empathetic side to dominate. He was trained to fight, defend, attack and kill unmercifully. That being said, Maan's silent thoughts were broken as a piercing scream pierced right through his heart. Turning his head towards the direction of the shriek, his eyes widened as he gazed at a young beautiful woman running towards him. Her hands were tightly grasping a little boy, as they both ran for their lives. No matter how much he willed himself, he could not glance away. Her curly chestnut hair cascaded into long ringlets, barely touching her narrow waist. Donned in clothes that had been rendered into rags; her beautiful face continued to stand out from her paled stricken face.
It wasn't her beauty that held him mesmerized. It had been her eyes, such large almond eyes, that spoke in volumes, portraying her fear and her desperation. For the first time, Maan wanted to ease her fears, soothe her wounds, wipe her tears and to convince her that he would protect her with his dying breath. Surprised by his powerful reaction towards a stranger, he could not understand why he was feeling such emotions that seemed alien to him. Caught into the web of her spell, he was slow to react when she brushed passed him, shouldering him roughly in her need to escape. Snaking his hands towards her, he had grasped onto her forearms, intending to tell her that it was dangerous for a young woman to venture on her own. However, he had misjudged her frailty the moment she turned around and quickly grabbed the gun from his waist and aimed it at him. Although he had a loaded firearm in his hand, and could have easily and skillfully dislodged the weapon from her hands, he did not have the will to overpower her act of bravery. Dropping the firearm onto the ground, he had raised his arms in the air, gesturing his defeat. She gave him an uncertain look, her hands trembling violently in undisguised fear.
"Ne pensez pas que vous pouvez me tromper! Je sais que vous essayez de me piger en lui faisant croire que vous tes dsarm' She whispered in French.
Although he could not fluently understand the language, he knew enough to realize that she distrusted his intentions and believed that he was trying to trick her into believing that he was surrendering. Maan opened his mouth to reassure her that he was not going to harm her, when suddenly he had noted that his men were aiming their weapons towards the armed girl. Assuming that their leader was in danger, they did not wait for his signal and without command pulled the trigger. Shouting his worriment, he had grasped her from the waist and pulled her and the little boy into his arms as he used his back as a shield. The bullet pierced into his shoulder, but he paid no heed to it. His only concern was that she and the child remained safe. Unconsciously, she had covered her face in his chest, sobbing out her fear. He gently soothed her, ignoring his wound. 'It's okay little one, no one is going to hurt you'. Hearing his deep voice, she looked up at him in surprise and stared at him through tear rimmed eyes. 'Trust me' he whispered earnestly, 'Croyez-moi'. Looking at his bloodied shoulder and realizing that he had risked his life to save the both of them, Geaten nodded her head slowly and grasped hold of his hand in affirmed trust. 'Merci' she whispered back, 't-hank you' she replied again in a heavy English accent.
Before he had the chance to respond, another bullet breezed passed his shoulder and whipped a through her curly hair, only a hair's breath away from injuring her face. With an angry shout, Maan bent down and retrieved the firearm as countless other bullets were aimed towards the girl and the child. Turning around and without a moments hesitation, Maan shot the attackers, furious that they had attempted to kill an innocent. They slumped onto the ground, their chests oozing with blood. His fury soon dispersed as he stared at his own men, whom had once been his trustful friends. The firearm slipped through his fingers as he gazed in horror. Those men had wives and children, waiting at home. They had placed their trust upon him, requesting him to bring their husbands safely back home. Closing his eyes as the guilt racked into his soul, he did not realize that the unknown woman had fallen onto the ground, wailing in pain. The sound of her tears jolted him back to reality as he stared at the ground and noticed that the little boy was lying on the ground, dead to the world.
He had knelled down and held the little boy in his arms. He was possibly only 4 years old, his long thick lashes fanning his young cheeks. He had stared at the little boy and for the first time in his life, tears began to course down his cheeks. He weeped for the loss of a life, he grieved for someone whom had not even had the chance to live their lives and to see and experience the world. The woman's screams crumbled his resistance as he stared at her face, devoid of happiness, etched with immense pain. Unknowingly, he pulled her into his embrace, expressing his sorry through the tight hug. He had failed to keep his promise, he could not protect them.
***
Maan ran his hands over his face as he stared at the time. Geet would be home any minute. Eventually as she had opened up to him, he had found out that the little boy had been her brother. The rest of her family did not survive the war, and thus his safety had become her first and most important priority. Initially it had been difficult to communicate with her, for he barely knew how to speak French and she spoke in broken English. But they had not needed words to converse, for their eyes were a source of mutual understanding which resulted in them forming a bond that was powerful beyond words. Her name was Gaeten, but her family used to call her Geati, in endearment. As he returned to India, bringing her with him, it was easier for everyone to address her as Geati or Geet. Eventually he became accustomed to the name 'Geet' and thus from then on, called her from that name.
It had been 6 years since their marriage, and every single night, memories of the past consistently invaded his thoughts. Concerned with his behaviour, Geet had taken him to see a psychologist. He was diagnosed with post traumatic disorder and severe depression. That explained his mood swings, nightmares and feelings of self hate. However, it had been two weeks ago from today when he had lost complete control.
***
'I get so tired from work' Geet whined as she got into the bed and snuggled into the blanket. Maan smiled and patted the empty spot beside him. With a childlike grin, Geet rolled towards him and rested her head upon his outstretched muscular arm. Her forehead was rested against his lips as she looked up at his face with her eyes. 'Hmm don't look at me like that' he murmured softly. 'Why not?' she breathed out. 'Because I will fall in love with you all over again' he replied seriously. Geet giggled and raised her head to place a soft kiss upon his lips, 'good' she replied, 'that was my intention'. Smirking playfully, he tackled her gently onto her back and nuzzled her neck with his lips. 'Your stubble tickles me' she laughingly commented, brushing her hands lovingly over his heavily toned shoulders. 'Good' he retorted against her neck, 'that was my intention' he finished off her laugh with a searing kiss. Two hours later, she had been fast asleep in his arms when she began to hear him frantically shout in his sleep. Opening her drowsy eyes, Geet looked at her husband with concern. 'NO!' he shouted as he thrashed about, 'don't shoot him!'. Worried that his dream would become too unbearable, Geet sat up and gently shook Maan's shoulders, 'wake up' she said in concern, 'your only dreaming!'. Touching him was her biggest mistake, for he lunged towards her, still fighting in his sleep, attacking her onto the ground. Screaming, Geet tried to push his overwhelming weight off her body but he his strength was unbelievable. 'You die!' He whispered through crazed eyes as he chocked the breath out of her. She fought him with her hands, trying to scratch him awake, but it were as if he was made out of steel. His grasp intensified, tightening around her throat, intending to give her a quick death. Her eyes began to roll into her skull, her breathing cut off in laboured breaths. Her arms fell limply onto her sides as she began to embrace death. 'Maan' she choked out through her last breaths. Her tortured voice seemed to snap him out of his nightmare, jolting him out of the dream.
Maan snapped his hands back as if it had been burnt, recoiling at his actions. His body shook in spasms of fear as he stared horrifically at her limp body. 'No' he whispered in denial, shell shocked to the extent that he could not move. Letting out an anguished moan, he bent over and placed his mouth over hers, desperately trying to breathe life into her body. Pumping her chest with the heel of his palm, he knelled over and once again breathed into his mouth. At last, she gasped all the breath into her lungs and opened her eyes with deep inhale. The feeling of relief was so great, that he could do nothing but cry in helplessness. He felt her shaking hands wipe away his tears and opened his eyes to see her staring at him with all the love and trust reflected in her eyes. 'I can't live without you' he choked out, 'don't ever leave me' he whimpered like a child as he crushed her fragile body in an overwhelming hug. He refused to let go of her and was content to hold her in his arms for hours, as his past words continuously haunted him. . 'Trust me' he had whispered earnestly, 'Croyez-moi'.
***
Gaeten strolled through her front door; carrying bags filled with grocery in her tired arms. 'I'm home' she called out, completely worn out. The house was met with complete silence, whilst her voice echoed through the vast and empty hallways. Shrugging her shoulders, she walked towards the kitchen and placed the bags atop the counter. Too tired to place the groceries into their rightful places, she walked passed the black piano and gently ran her fingers over it. It had become her daily routine and obsession to touch the piano whenever she walked passed. Most of the time, Maan would tease her, stating that she lavished more attention towards the piano rather than him. Smiling inwardly in remembrance, Geet was about to walk up the staircase, when her eye caught the white envelope laying upon the piano. Her forehead creased in confusion, as she picked it up and noticed that it had her name written on the front. Shaking her head, knowing that it was from Maan, she opened it up and commenced reading the letter.
My dearest Gaeten
Believe it or not, but this letter, although short, took me more than four hours to complete. I hesitated within each line, the moment I gazed upon your smiling photograph. There were moments when I was tempted to crumple this piece of paper and throw it away, from this house and from our lives. But every time I was about to shred this letter into pieces, I would recall that fateful night when I was only seconds away from ending your life. Fearing that the action would be repeated in the future, it motivated me to continue with this letter. The man you fell in love with, ceases to exist. The man you had first laid eyes on, had promised to protect you, had asked for your trust and in the end, broke his own promise. Although bit by bit, I had died in the inside whenever I remembered the battlefield, and all the innocent lives lost by my hands, my true death came when I was about to kill you in my uncontrolled crazed set of mind. There is no cure to my nightmares Geet. I've asked for forgiveness, but it seems as if my only repentance would be to join the rest,
Be strong my love, for I know the strength within you is unbreakable. I could honestly and sincerely state that I had fallen in love with you, the moment you had stolen my gun and courageously aimed it at me. I shall take that image of you straight to my grave, and I promise that your name will be the last words to be spoken through my lips.
I only request that you move on with your life. Don't waste your youth, by shedding tears for me. And if you ever find yourself missing me, simply close your eyes and embrace the winds. The breeze that touches you and whispers into your ear, will be me passing by, hovering around you, ready to protect you forever. Please do not remember me as a weak willed person who gave up on life, and chose to willingly face death rather than endure another day in this world. Life was my jail, whilst death shall be my freedom. Tell your future children and grandchildren of my brave stories, of our love, especially our love. Don't ever let our story perish away. Let it become a part of history that should forever be passed down, family to family, child to child.
I did this for your safety. For I know that I would die a million deaths if I knew that I had hurt you. I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me one day. And mayhap if it's in our destiny, we shall meet again.
Until then...
Forget me not Mon Amour; Forgive me my beloved.
Always
Maan.
Screaming out his name, Geet ran up the stair case only to stumble back down, roughly landing onto the hard ground. Unaware of her physical pain, she stood on unstable legs and commenced running back up the steps. It was as if the entire household had turned black and white, with no spot of colour to be in sight. Crashing the bedroom door open, she stumbled inside, shouting through her unchecked tears. Falling onto her knees, the letter still in her hands, she stared at her husband, her Maan, hanging on a rope, his legs a few centimeters off the ground.
His eyes remained open, devoid of life, gone from the world. It were as if his eyes were waiting for her, to drink in the sight of his one true love. Crawling to his body, Geet clutched onto his legs, sobbing and shrieking for him to come back. Dressed entirely in his uniform, flashbacks of their first encounter bombarded her mind. 'You promised!' she shouted, 'I trusted you...oh god please come back!' She screamed and screamed until nothing but her choking sobs came out.
Her
tears of pain echoed through the walls of the house, emphasizing on
the sudden emptiness that had now penetrated into her heart. His
dying wish had been for her to never forget their memories. 'Forget
me not' was his last words, and her response as she breathed her last
50 years later was, 'You were never forgotten'.
[YOUTUBE]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-EQ6eHeBrhM&feature=related[/YOUTUBE]
In dedication to my cousin who passed away through suicide. I didn't mean to write a sad OS, but current circumstances has compelled me to write such a depressing story. But I promise that this shall be my last sad OS, and from now on, I'll write funny and happy ones. So I apologize for killing your moods, but this idea has been haunting me for several days now. And I had to release it by making a story out of it.
Please do leave your comments and press the 'like' button, even if you didn't like it. 😆
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