Creative+Writing

Second Chances

As has happened countless times before, the sun rose over my small house as I sat patiently on my porch, dreading another day. The look of sorrow illuminated my eyes and the weight of the world sunk me into my rocking chair, beaten down with age. The changes in life has confused me to a point I can only feel belonging at home, in the safety of my small house, built for two but only occupied by one. I live in solitude off a back road in my old house, as secluded from other human beings as possible. My peculiar situation has left me incapable of getting close, and impossible to find love, again. I wouldn't go anywhere without a small faded picture of a a woman I once loved. I had become a truly secluded human being but only because of the peculiar circumstances that I was so unfortunately cursed with.

The sun was still down and most of the town still asleep, the sound of a pin hitting the floor was like a lion roaring in dominance, the town was dead with silence. A child was born, a child with the name of Fredrick Norman, the child was me. An ordeal, painful and long, but with a beautiful outcome. I was born with great health but my caring mother did not have the same fortune. In the act of creating life hers was taken leaving me with only my father, a drifter with not more than a penny to his name. His name was Charles, he lived his life in the fast lane, and although overcome with joy on the birth of his first son he was not capable or in anyway ready for the responsibility and commitment of raising a child on his own. In the heat of the moment he left me, alone, at the bottom step of the orphanage and disappeared into the dark vast night.

I was raised to share the same beliefs of my school. An orphanage which taught the ways of an all boys military school. Without hesitation it is easy for me to admit I was a troubled child. I stayed mainly to myself because I found it troubling to make friends. My giant distrust in other people made anyone who tried to get close feel very hostile and unwanted. I enjoyed playing with my green army figures I had found one autumn morning, strolling behind the barn. There slightly hidden from the fallen brown leaves covering the damp ground they were, like motionless soldiers long forgotten from their previous owner. I refused any invitations to play with the other boys and rejected any requests extended to me. My odd and secluded behavior was not left unnoticed by the elders and left me out of the eyes of any potential adopters, which was secretly my plan all together. For I didn't believe in the concept of family at all, only betrayal and abandonment. That was of course, until I met the love of my life. She was an orphan girl with a similar childhood to mine. Her name was Sarah Lucyem and she lived in the all girls boarding school across the field. At night we would cautiously sneak out and see each other guided by love and adrenaline. We grew up together and slowly our love grew into something greater than anything that had ever existed, a bond that at the time, I believed would never be broken. For many years we spent as much time as we could together, sharing our ideas and dreams for the future along with giving each other comfort we both needed so dearly. But when Sarah turned seventeen she was adopted by an English couple who were unable to have a child of their own. Her stunning beauty and obvious charm made her an clear choice for the two buyers which was what Sarah had been dreading ever since she met me. On the night before she left she came across the field over the fence and she spent the night with me. The night was one I still remember clearly to this day, but only feels like a second in the many years I've been away from her. Morning came and as I awoke to turn to my lover she was gone. All that remained was a picture of her rested upon the freshly indented pillow of where she once lay. I returned to my life in solitude after Sarah had left, living in depression and anger. Until the day that life would be useless and unnecessary came, the day my country went to war.

I enrolled myself immediately, feeling as it was an obligation of my patriotic duties. Days turned to months and months turned to years, constantly being surrounded by death and despair. Something that was continuously growing as the years went on. Each day brought darker memories of fallen soldiers and lost friends but I still remained untouched after 4 years of warfare. I was later stationed in West Florida where I met my first real friend with the name of Henry Monroe. He came from a loving family who had raised him to stand up for what he believed in. Henry had a loving soul and was greatly nurtured as a child, finding being surrounded by death almost unbearable. I would share my life stories with him, about my father and mother who I never got to know, and of Luyem who was taken from me in what seemed to be a blink of an eye. And he would listen, and soon our friendship had transformed into a brotherhood. Opposite to myself, Henry found it easy to make friends quickly and soon had introduced me to a group of men that bonded with me very quickly. We all became a family and decided to watch each others backs carefully to keep us all out of trouble and ultimately danger. The common goal was to make it home safe to our families, at least the rest of them who had families. The nights grew shorter as the war went on, as if death was becoming less of a tragedy to me but more of something I was expected to deal with on a daily basis. And as the days past, so did many of my new friends, swallowed by death in the prime of their youth. Not even the strongest of families can withstand the brutality of war. Even Henry found death easier to deal with for he two knew it was something he could not avoid. His face had been sucked dry of joy. Henry began to question his enrollment in such a bloodshed to the point he no longer wished to support his country. Henry and I shared a tent together, he usually was the first to go to sleep but I can still remember the troubled look on his face as I dozed off into a deep sleep. I was awaken by the blasting of guns and the screams of injured men. Henry was nowhere to be seen and I was still unsure of what was going on. I threw on my cloths at lightening speed and rushed to see what was occurring all around me. We were being attacked by numbers far greater than our own, men on horses with torches destroying everything in their paths. I jumped for cover and waited for the madness to come to an end. The trail of destruction they left was unbearable. I crawled from under the the fallen debris, away from the dead bodies of my once life fulled allies. I was not the only one who had survived the attack, but was one of the least injured out of any survivor. I picked myself up from the uneven ground and observed the what seemed to be but a waste land of a once thriving campground. I gained slight comfort as familiar faces were also arsing from the behinds black clouds and off the cold ground until a thought of terror once again wiped away any good feelings inside of me and a question that sent shivers down my spine had completely taken over my brain, where was Henry? I had no idea where he could be and no idea where to look so i started immediately. Again and again I recovered lifeless faces of men I had honestly never even seen before. Their skin was as cold as black ice and had a similar colour as well. My search must have gone on for hours until I finally came across who I was looking for. His face looked cold and forgotten as his body looked lifeless and unusable. The more of Henry's body I uncovered from the fallen debris the worse I realized he was. He had been shot several times and his blood soaked cloths reveled how severally he was injured. Henry lay there almost lifeless looking up into my eyes as I looked down into his. "I'm sorry I'm leaving you as well Fredrick," Henry whispered in a raspy voice, " Drink the water around my neck, it'll give you as many chances as you need at happiness" I had no idea what he was saying as the look of puzzlement stretched across my face. "I have something to tell you." Henry said as he cleared his throat and began his story. The night before, Henry had tried to return home and escape death that was constantly surrounding him. Until he came across a mysterious fresh water spring. Although fighting to keep his own breath Henry began his story.

After hours of meaningless wondering I stumbled across a fresh water spring which even in the blackness of night had an intriguing sparkle to it. I filled up my canteen which hung empty around my neck and lay down in the grass beside the spring. The trees seemed so much younger around the spring than the rest of the forest. Even the flowers held more colours in their newly blossomed pedals which seemed odd to me for it is fall, far from spring where the other flowers usually are in blossom. I picked a flower from the moist ground and help its lush figure. It's roots were healthy and stem was hard, as were the others around it. It was as if the flower had only sprouted hours ago. Not knowing what to make of the peculiar situation I left to collect something in which I could use in an experiment. I returned with a dead leaf that had fallen from its life support long ago. Withered and brown, its figure almost crumbled in my hand as I made my way toward the spring. I tossed the brown leaf into the spring and watched in amazement as it transformed in front of my eyes into a bright green leaf rich with life as if it had just sprouted from its safe tree branch only moments ago. The rising sun began to shed light on the dormant world as I realized it was getting close to morning. I was so amazed at my new found discovery that I had completely forgotten my previous attempt to escape home and decided to rush back to camp to show you my discovery. But when I returned I was welcomed by the sound of guns firing and men yelling in anguish. I turned at the sound of men screaming behind me and was shoot several times by men passing by on horses. I cannot remember anything from that time until the debris that had fallen around me was lifted and I saw you standing in front of me.

Henry asked me to drink the water from his canteen, his dieing wish in an attempt to giving me something no one else could, an eternity to make peace with the world. Henry's eyes rolled back and the last trace of life in him slipped away and left him me there alone with the still warm body of my brother. I packed whatever I could find and left the camp, knowing the men would soon return to finish what they started. I headed north, anywhere that I thought I could escape the darkness of war, that I could feel was close behind me.

Years had passed since the war had ended. I returned to the town I was born in and visited the old school I was raised at. I was able to get the name of the family that had adopted Sarah and also was able to get their address. Although I knew where to find her, it took me weeks to build up the courage to see her. My mind was full of countless scenarios of what could go wrong. But soon the anticipation became to much to avoid so I put on my best cloths, went out to my favorite flower shop and drove to Sarah's home. Sarah opened the door but was nothing like I had remembered. Her beauty had faded, her blue eyes had lost their sparkle, she had the slightest hunch and walked with a fairly noticeably limp in her left leg. Of course it took her no time at all for her to recognize who I was, she stood there speechless for what seemed to be hours but her face completely expressed how she was feeling. She wrapped her fragile arms around me and held ever so gently with a loving feel. 'You haven't aged at all Fredrick," she spoke with the still soothing tone of her loving voice. I knew that that would be the first thing she would comment on and notice, because she was right, I had not aged at all. I still had the form of a young man, and in fact still do to this day. Ever since I had drunken the water that was in Henry's canteen age had not been a factor for me. Sarah invited me in and I explained the situation I lived with. Not only that, I told her stories of my life and the years I spent in war, as she to had many stories to tell me. Living with Sarah brought joy back into my life, joy that had so long not existed in my tormented heart. As the years grew greater so did our love for each other once again. Over these years she grew older and her figure slowly faded, her ability to take care of herself decreased over time. But I never left her side, I tended to her ever wish and kept her safe and happy as she grew old, while at the same time she did the same to me. Her health was slipping away from her and she was slowly fading away. But I saw nothing more than the same flawless woman I had fallen in love with. Her remaining years went by slower than the rest. The time we shared together in her final years were the greatest of my life. I felt completely cared for and loved as I had ever since she had returned into my life, but for the first time I felt a sense of closure with the idea of being abandoned so many years ago. And when the night did come that Sarah drew her last breath I found it much easier to handle and take in than what I had expected.

Days seem shorter to me now, time seems to fly by, without giving you much time to really appreciate it. I had created a daily routine that I followed almost exactly everyday. I woke up and made my breakfast and delivered the mail to everyone else on my street. I did some slight yard work to keep up Sarah's garden she had taken such pride in for so many years. I then went on a long run, it gave me time to think back on my life and admire the peaks and valleys that I had to overcome. I would stop by at a small flower shop where I would pick up some roses, and continue running to the cemetery, where Sarah was buried. Three other soldiers that I had grown close to were also buried in that cemetery which allowed me to pay respect to those who had fallen for what they loved and believed in. A routine with few excitements until one morning something out of the ordinary happened, something I could never forget.

At each gravestone I brushed away any fallen leaves or debris that was covering it and took away the old rose from the day before and placed the new one in its place. At each of the fallen soldiers tombs I stood in silence for a moment and payed thanks to their sacrifices. I then waled up the hill to Sarah's tomb as I usually do and let my emotions take over my body. It felt good letting everything out, and although I was upset she was gone, I had no remorse or regrets of when she was alive. I had made every moment count, and obtained countless memories of our time together. One of the remaining two roses on her grave and began walking home. It started raining heavily so I rushed for cover by a small building in the west side of the cemetery. I waited there for some time for the rain to let up until the sun had burst through the covering or dark clouds and shone down upon the cemetery once more illuminating it with light. On my way back I walked through a new section of the cemetery admiring the others who had deceased. Name after name I read atop the tomb stone, each with a different message written beneath it. So many names were there, to many to even begin to remember, all of which were unimportant to me personally. That was until I came across one name that it difficult for me to stay on my feet. I was unable to move, unable to even move my fingers an inch. The tomb before me was very old, it was cracked and was decaying but the name was still clear to read. "Charles Norman" chipped into the block of stone, and under the message read "I will never be able to forgive myself for a mistake I made in giving away my true chance at happiness." No emotion could describe what I felt, not even today could I give a name to what was going through me. I just stood there motionless reading the message over and over again to myself. A tear rolled down my face soon followed by an army of others. Yet at the same time the slightest smile was also beginning to form on my face. It felt like enormous weight was being lifted of my shoulders and the greatest feeling of closure completely overcame everything around me. I read the message one more time, slowly and carefully, making sure I understood it completely. The slight smile was now a great one that stretched from ear to ear. And as I soaked in every emotion I was feeling from my discovery just before I left to return home, I lovingly placed the last remaining rose in my hand on the foot of my father's tomb.