Lost Love

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Story Two

Lost Love

Written on 22, 5, 2013

Julia walked the city for miles and miles more, yet neither travel nor time unending quenched her tears or ceased her fears, yet she walked till she reached the sea, and then traversed the shore.

Young children played with sand as the sentinel sun shined upon them. Their parents leisurely basked in the light, reading and passively talking as time flowed in a constant stream that met the sea.

Most interesting to her were the young couples leisurely dancing in the waves. They appeared so free, careless of their nakedness, without any shame or pride. It seemed so natural, so familiar to her.

For a moment she thought of coming to the beach with Maria, yet the thought was quickly turned away. There would be too much scandal in that. She thought to herself.

Soon she passed the beach and came to upon the grand open gardens. While surrounded by evergreens her mind became calm yet her worries did not depart. Julia slowly lowered herself under the tree canopy, laying on the ground and not caring about her dress anymore.

Again she began to shed tears and softly cry. The wind rustled the leaves and the grass, like an invisible animal of massive bulk that rubbed its pelt upon all that it encountered. The warm salty blow of sea air hurt her already reddened eyes, like fire upon exposed flesh, forcing them to firmly shut. I taunted her, it made this all seem like a game, as if the wind had any better to do than play games and fight. Yet she ignored its rustling noise and its animal touch.

There were so many different feelings in her mind now; fear, betrayal, agony, and anguish. Oddly enough she kept thinking of Maria, not herself or her current predicament. It didn’t matter what Roger was willing to publicize, even if he the hatred to do it.

It will hurt him more than me, of that I am certain.

She thought to herself.

Would he really take action, who knew? Perhaps he would be pleased to watch his little sister die, perhaps he even awaited it.


She thought. That was not the Roger she knew, that was not the brother that had meant to her more than her own father. But would that be what he would become, would he become harsh, and cruel, cold and loveless?

He was such a proud individual, proud of everything that he lived for, proud of his honour, proud of his family, his fatherland, and of course his beloved.

Yet he had been such a kind and compassionate person once, maybe he could still be that way again, and that was how Julia tried to remember him as. Whether he was sweet or acrid, she still thought of him the way he had been before.

In a way, she continued to look up to him, she always had, his courage, his valor, his iron willpower, his determination, his shameless honesty. He had every quality Julia had desired to see in her self from youth, but never found to be sufficient in her.

Roger had the willpower to deliver this news to her, without emotion, without doubt, or pity. A perfect statue he could become.

Would she ever be able to do that, to show such self-restraint, to be bereft of anger and sadness as one condemned one’s own kin? What strength could he find in himself that gave him such an ironed grip upon his feelings?

Why brother, why must you hate me so much?

She asked herself the question as she leaned down on the rough trunk of a high tree. Its coarse dry surface tore the stitching of her dress and scraped her skin, yet she did not mind as her shoulder was scratched and cut by the bark. All that she cared for was to have something to support her as she fell.