Russell MacClaren depicts the sorrow of love and war.
When he hugged her, he always put one hand on each of her buttocks and squeezed just so. It made Angela feel protected, welcomed, wanted, and it excited her. Then Josh put his face to her nether regions, bit her gently through her clothing, rose up and pulled her to him. She was devastated when he left to play his role in The Hundred Years’ War, even though he promised to return and claim her for his bride.
While he was gone, she dreamed he took her—every night. She awoke trembling, as if he were with her. She was overwhelmed by the ecstasy he brought—the closeness, the caring, the words and passion! She knew that while he lived, she would have such tactile dreams, knew he had them as well, for they had often shared dreams with one another.
When six months passed, she heard he’d been lost in battle, but the dreams continued. Their love had been that strong…. As more months passed, however, the dreams became infrequent, and though it hurt to move on, she freed herself to find another.
Her new love, Henri was a proper gent, the kind of man that women dream of: money, prestige, looks, honored family name… He had it all. When they were together, people treated her with respect and admiration. If his love making lacked the thrill that Josh’s brought, at least while she was with Henri, her desperate longing for Josh and her dreams of him had ceased.
Angela and Henri made plans to marry. Then war—the destroyer of people, of love, of dreams drew close to home. Despite Henri’s social standing, he was called into the conflict. She wept once more…. How could she survive another loss? Was there no mercy in heaven to stop this hate, this killing, this ignorance?
She prayed for the ugliness to end, for her man to return. Then Angela took out her tarot deck, poured heart and soul into the cards, asked God to bless her reading, and it was positive: the Star, the 10 of cups, the Magician and the 2 of Wands! She was confident her lover would return….
No word came from Henri, but authorities notified people that the enemy had been defeated. Survivors, in whatever condition they might be, were to return that evening. Angela waited in the dark, under a new moon, on a night that stank of gunpowder and death.
Then came footfalls–a shadow…. She opened her arms to accept her man, gratitude on her lips—overwhelmed with joy beyond measure, not quite knowing how to greet him. Then, she was in his arms….
Josh, oh, Josh!
Author Russell MacClaren is a Writer and Poet.
You can reach him at his Facebook page
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