Inked In Crimson #3 (He)
Dear Katherine,
As a cold flutter of wind strikes my left arm with a delicate force, I realise it is the same arm that was cushioned on your hands the second time you met me. And today, your presence around me leaves this arm with a sense of relief, aware of the fact that it rests in the hands of a soothingly wondrous self.
I watch the narrow slit of sunlight that enters my tent room every now and then, and welcomes your arrival to my quarters with a sense of pride. It is as if the coast of distress welcomes the heralding of the much-needed waves of positivity.
We have so much in familiarity with each other. The first time we met, you seemed to me an anxious, inexperienced girl. But now, as the ravages of time go on sweeping past the realms of reality, I am beginning to realize that I was wrong, very wrong. Today, it is not the same simple girl who injects tetanus medicines into my body. Rather, it is an intellectual yet emotional woman who does so.
And this fact becomes evident when I think of the dinner gathering. Even before I discovered your presence at the occasion, you were standing beside me, talking about the dire living conditions in the army camp. You made a great companion to all soldiers around, and this in itself shows the development in your confidence.
You’ve been so much more than a medicine supplier to me. The other day, we talked about the need of peace and humanity, and it was so comforting when you opened up your mind about where the world is leading to.
“I am finding things distressing, Lieutenant Adams. The world’s becoming more lopsided every single day. People are searching for solace, instead they find violence. The law of nature just isn’t working. The world’s becoming more a ‘man’s haven’ than ‘life’s haven’.”
“To tell you the truth, Miss Katherine, bloodshed is spreading like wildfire, and not just in the States. Even Germany has gone berserk, England has its own problems – I mean it’s not just us, but the entire mankind who’s responsible for this crisis. Violence is now something mundane, so much mundane that women do nothing but smile when they see their babies quartered.”
“That’s Shakespeare, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“You seem quite poetic.”
“Everyone in distress seems quite poetic.”
And then I went away.
Every short talk with you seems ages long. I feel as if I’m talking to someone of my competence; of my intellect. You really seem to me as someone who is given charm and charisma in the right amounts. At some times, you seem quite chatty, at others, introvert.
Thus, I sometimes find you uncannily different from all others.
On Sunday, at the Easter fest, when I talked about human nature, you seemed quite distracted, and after the conversation, I was left thinking about what the reason was.
“You know, Miss Katherine, what is the biggest sin committed by man?”
“What is it, Lieutenant?”
“It’s betrayal.”
“It is what?”
“Betrayal.”
“Oh, betrayal. Right. Nothing’s more heinous than betraying your society, your nation.”
“Or betraying someone close to you.”
“Right. --So Lieutenant, what’s your thought about Easter?”
But then Miss Collins called you and you went away.
I sometimes find you quite preoccupied in your own thoughts. Of course, I may be mistaken, because I pay a lot of attention to you. But that’s solely because I can relate to your opinions and your perceptions. I sometimes find it difficult to come to terms with the blind reality that I am a soldier of immense competence, yet falling for a girl with whom my contact is extended just to talks that bring emotional pleasure.
I’m like that fallen leaf from a withered maple tree, only waiting for some sweet, soothing breeze to lift me up from the dirt that borders my saddened life. You are that string of emotions, to which my kite of feelings is tied. The bond is thin, so very thin. And yet so essential, so indispensable.
But I shall not be influenced. I am that one being who longs for truce and tranquillity and love, but knows by his circumstances, that for him, such ideal facilities only extend to imagination and faithless, fallacious dreams; who realizes that for him, war is the marriage and gun the spouse, even if he does not love this bitter truth.
And so, I pick up my spouse and head for another round of training.
Yours truly
Daniel