Storie originali > Drammatico
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Autore: Danda93    10/12/2014    3 recensioni
Premetto che questa One-Shot è interamente in inglese e che non verrà tradotta (almeno da me) dato che per questa lingua è nata, dunque mi sembra giusto così. E' moltissimo tempo che non torno a scrivere e, se l'ho fatto, è stato solo perché mi sono sentita motivata a condividere di nuovo ciò che mi passava per la testa.
Ho raccolto tutto ciò che ho appreso dal corso di Letteratura Inglese che ho frequentato quest anno in università e ho pensato: cosa passa per la testa di un soldato ferito? Cosa gli viene in mente quando attorno a sé ha solo bombe, morte e distruzione?
Chiedo perdono per eventuali errori, non sono madrelingua e ho scritto di getto.
Detto questo spero davvero che vi piaccia, che riusciate a immedesimarvi, il soldato non ha nome e questa non è una lettera, ma una sorta di stream of consciousness, dunque può essere ripetitivo e complicato da seguire.
Vi auguro buona lettura!
Genere: Drammatico, Guerra, Introspettivo | Stato: completa
Tipo di coppia: Het
Note: Missing Moments | Avvertimenti: nessuno
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Can you remember, Sarah, the day we first met?

Do you remember how the weather was like when our eyes met? I do remember that July rain falling softly from the plumb sky, the sun was covered by dark clouds crying out thunders on Earth. And I was coming back from the fields, after work, with my shoes full of mud and my pockets full of nothing but water. I was young and dreamy, I was working for my future, I was dreaming of flying away, on a plane, my own wings and way to freedom. And you were there too. You, holding your dark blue umbrella upon your head, covered with a hat that made me smile. Did I ever mentioned how ridiculous was to me, that hat? It looked like one of the pots my mother used to boil us the soup. Thou it was handsome on your head. Do you remember what colour was it? Of course you do. Green, just like your big eyes.

Can you remember, Sarah, the day we first met?

Do you remember what thoughts you had? Were they nice? I guess I'm not allowed to know. I often think about those days, when we were both young and brave, when we didn't think about class differences, when you lived in your huge country house with mum and dad while I lived in a terraced apartment with my sisters. We were so young and brave, can you remember that? I'm thinking about the day I came to your house to look for your window. I just wanted to see if it was open, I just needed to figure out what could you see when you were lying on your bed. I just wanted to feel as if I was a part of your life. An important part. Remember when your dad came to know about us? How mad was he? I thought he could kill me for just looking at his precious and rich daughter. I didn't care about money, I didn't care about how rich your family could be. And you knew it. You've always known.

Can you remember, Sarah, the day we first met?

I wanted to pretend I was somebody else, I couldn't figure out how could you fell in love with a poor guy like me, I was - am - a fool, Sarah, and you knew it but you didn't care. We were brave and we only cared about our happiness. That's why I don't know why I made my last choice. I still don't. Did I want to be brave? It was 1936 when we met, you with your green eyes and your green hat, and me, with my old brown jacket and my amaranth bowtie. If I close my eyes, I still can see the smile on your face, a shy and curious smile curving those red lips. How brave. I've always admired you. You and your crazy dreams while a War was coming. You and your "Let's go away, let's move to another country!" while politicians were preparing bombs. I've always admired you. "Two children: Hannah and Jeremy!" and you pointed out at the sky, dreaming of our unborn children's faces. You didn't like to plan the future. You just lived it.

Can you remember, Sarah, the day we first met?

It has never been easy for us. Everyone judging your behaviour, how could you date someone with no money? Someone working in a mine? How could my hands, so rough, touch yours, so soft? How could you smile at me and not towards those aristocrats coming to pay a visit to your old father? I've always wondered why I was so special, but no answer ever came. "Who cares?" you said, "I'm not dating them, nor my father. I'm dating the man I love." and you ended our dialogue, my doubts about me, us. How could I abandon you like this? "I'll be back to you. I promise." You were holding your tears and I could see them pushing to come out and scream at me. I was so selfish. We should have run away, just like you said.

Can you remember, Sarah, the day we first met?

A bomb exploded not far from my troop, some were hurt, we took them to a safe spot, but we weren't able to reach many others. I remember when I came back home for the first time. I was different and you noticed it. You've always been so smart. I didn't want to talk about the fields, about mines, about alarms. But we were living the war even outside the fields, even with no mines nor bombs. War was all around and we couldn't escape anymore. "Talk to me, dear." I still hear your supplications, whispered when I woke up in the middle of the night. Sweaty, scared, with my fingers clenched to the sheets. You were scared, worried, but I didn't want to open my broken mind to you. Then the time to leave came again. I remember how you begged me to stay. How you cried you didn't care if it was treason. You wanted me safe and sound. But I didn't listen. I couldn't listen.

Can you remember, Sarah, the day we first met?

The sun caresses my skin and the helmet I'm wearing reminds me of your green hat. You know, Nazis has their hats too, but they're different from ours. It was yesterday when I realized we're all the same. Each one of us, no matters the nationality or the helmet. We're all here to fight someone else's battle. We shouldn't be here, Sarah, this is so wrong. So wrong, Sarah. Why am I here? Why am I not by your side? You keep sending me your letters, full of love, full of hopes, but I can see you crying because of the traces you leave on the paper. I'd like to dry you tears with my rough fingers. I'd like to feel the touch of your silky skin again. I'd like to hear your laugh, so limpid, so fresh, so young.

Can you remember, Sarah, the day we first met?

We changed a lot since then. We're two different people, loving each others the same way we used to. I grew up to be a man, to protect you. I left you in order to protect you, to stop this useless war. I failed, apparently. I couldn't protect you from this war, I couldn't hold your soft hands and tell you "It's over. We can plan on meeting Hannah and Jeremy, now." I couldn't. I'm sorry, Sarah. So sorry. I'm glad I've had the honour to spend a part of my life with you. It was the happiest, the best period of my entire existence. I wouldn't change anything of what we did together.

Can you remember, Sarah, the day we first met?

Don't cry, now. I'll close my eyes hearing these damned bombs falling upon us, with no hope but to see your smile again. I'll think about your soft and red lips, of your big green eyes, pointed at me just to say "Welcome back, dear." as you always did before this War. Don't cry, Sarah. In my mind you're smiling, you're happy, you're dancing with me in that pub, in the East End of London. Keep dancing, can you remember the music? It was nothing like these bombs. It was pleasant, it was warm. I spent all of my weekly pay to go there with you. Just the two of us, secretly from your father, from your mother. It was our special secret: our first date. I fell in love with your green eyes, Sarah, I want you to know that, even before I heard you speaking in such an intelligent way. No doubts you knew Latin and Greek, you used to tell me about the teachers who came to your house. To me, a boy knowing nothing but work and popular dances, it was a wonder, something out of my way.

Can you remember, Sarah, the day we first met?

I do remember, just like the day you said "Yes." to my ring. Just like the day I saw you walking through the aisle in your white dress, with your father and his grumpy face. He didn't like me, but you were strong so he had to give up, in the end. Our love was strong. And I lived for that love as you did. The smell of burned flesh reminds me of Thanksgiving, I felt embarassed when we all sat at the table, I wasn't a noble like you and your family, my sisters and I used to eat at a small wooden table in the kitchen, we didn't even have servants, or a butler. Do you remember the butler? Oh, of course you do. He was a nice and quiet person, that Mr Laurence. My back hurts, right now, and I can't feel my legs anymore. I don't understand why my ears are so in pain, just like my head. What would Mr Laurence do in this case? Would he call for help? I can't hear my voice coming out if I open my mouth. I can't call for any help, Sarah. They're all gone, my eyes, wandering around me, can see flesh, red, mud, rocks and steel. There's no trace of human being. Not alive, at least. I'm sorry, Sarah, for not being able to stand up, to come back home as I promised.

I'm sorry, Sarah, to die here, alone, in the middle of nowhere, not knowing if you're smiling, not knowing if you'll be safe from now on. I apologise to you, my love, my dearest, my one and only.

I'm so very sorry. I know I promised to come back, forgive me if you can.

Forgive me, Sarah, if you remember the day we first met.

  
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