MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “love story”

The most important medicine

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They told him he would be foolish to abandon everything he had spent his whole life creating. He had a successful legal office and had a good reputation among his peers.

But when his wife got sick, he didn’t consider it at all. For him it was obvious that his place was by her side. Always and at all costs. It was what they had vowed to each other so many years ago.

He didn’t see it as making sacrifices. He saw it as standing by and supporting the person he loved.

He didn’t care that he spent his whole life being next to her, even when she stopped remembering him. He continued his efforts to remind her of his love for her every day and refused to stop trying or to not be there, for her. So that she would feel safe and cared for.

He believed with all his heart that when you love someone you dedicate to them a part of your life, your time and your interest.

For him being with the person he loved and shared his life with was much more important that work, money and material goods.

Love is sometimes the most important medicine.

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The box office event

©Ted Strutz

She had been waiting for the show for weeks. It set a box office record wherever it performed. She had told him and he had excitedly agreed to go. After all, he couldn’t refuse something that got her so happy that she couldn’t stop blabbing while bouncing around happily.

A few days earlier, she awoke by a nightmare. He consoled her, wrapping her in his arms until she fell back asleep.

But then, a peculiar thing happened. Her fear had diffused into him. Unjustifiably and inexplicably.

It was when they were already seated that it happened. And it was life-changing.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Cat-like

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Women are like cats. They like attention but not too much and on their terms, are independent and self-sustainable, move around a room like they own it, like to sleep as much as possible, like to cuddle but only when they want to, and can disappear for hours doing their own thing with no-one really knowing what that is.

Women are like cats in that they can claw their way out of a fight, just as easily as they can start one.

But most of all, they are like cats in the sense that they can reciprocate the love you show them and be the source of your serenity.

Charity was the most cat-like girl Jessop had ever met. He could almost swear to hear her purr when she fell asleep in his arms. She fought for her autonomy and demonstrated that she could handle her affairs on her own. But every now and again she would crawl to his side and press into his chest for a tight hug, something that would make all the troubles she didn’t share just go away.

Jessop liked that she was dynamic and feisty. But he loved it more when she became the vulnerable, chirpy girl he fell in love with. After all, every man adores being the protector of his girl.

But over the past weeks, something happened. It was as if the cat inside her curled up and hid from the world. She wouldn’t talk much, her smile had faded and she barely ate. She wouldn’t respond to his questions, even getting agitated by them and would retreat to her bed, sleeping more than the usual hours.

One morning, Jessop woke up to find a note on his bedstand:

If I show you I need you, take it seriously. It means more than just the words you understand. I do whatever I can to never have to depend on anyone, to avoid showing weakness and fear. But if I tell you I need you by my side, it means I am trusting you to catch me when I fall”.

The note was stained with droplets of tears.

Jessop sprung out of bed, got dressed and left.

He knew where she was. Cats always have a safe place. Somewhere they think no-one knows about, but if you follow them closely they’ll let you find them.

Happy Endings

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Did you always know you would end up together?” the little girl asked her Grandma who was baking a cake for her wedding anniversary. The child loved kitchen-table talk. It was the place where real-life stories were told. Where she realised that true love exists in reality and that sometimes, fairy tales do come true even after many hardships. It was all a matter of how much you wanted something, and how much you were willing to try for it.

Her grandmother smiled as she mixed the dough in a big round bowl. “Well, to be honest, I wasn’t sure. But I had a feeling this one was special. That there would be something more to this man who courted me so decisively.

You weren’t sure? Because I was certain!” Grandpa interrupted as he abruptly entered the kitchen and surprised Grandma with a peck on the cheek. She still blushed, even after all these years.

The child clapped happily. She was witnessing a couple who never aged and who lasted through time.

How did you know, Grandpa?

Well, I just did. It’s like an intuition. That special feeling when I first looked into your grandmother’s eyes. I just knew we’d click. As if our fates were from that moment tied together”.

Grandma smiled as she continued her baking. Her eyes sparkled as she recalled those first moments of their encounter.

I wish I will be lucky enough to find a love like yours,” the little girl said.

I’m sure you will,” Grandma responded. “When the time comes, that person who will cherish you and treat you like the most important treasure in the world will appear.”

The child sighed in optimism as she watched the elderly couple take care of each other as if they were still young lovers, as if none of the decades had passed over them.

“Those who love deeply never grow old; they may die of old age, but they die young” – Benjamin Franklin

Marked hearts

©Roger Bultot

“Do you remember this part of our walk on our first date, when we timidly held hands? I was trembling with excitement. Your smile illuminated the entire cloister.

And then I turned and looked into your eyes. They were sparkling.

I still remember our first kiss. How can I ever forget?

You came into my life for a brief moment and left your mark on it forever”.

She held the old photo in hand and read his handwritten letter as she walked along the cloister.

It took him a decade to find her.

And now she had come to him.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Jasmin’s Prince

Her name was Jasmin. She was named after her mother’s favourite flower, one symbolising love, beauty and good luck. She had blue eyes and long black silky hair.

When she was young she was thrilled to discover that one of her favourite princesses bore the same name. She believed she was destined for greatness and always strived to achieve it.

But this had the disadvantage that, on this account, nothing (and often no one) was good enough.

So when she met her prince, she stifled him because the reality did not fit the perspective she had imagined. It was the problem of having too many expectations. They caused too great a heartache and too much disappointment when they were not met.

Unlike her gentle and kind character, she began to get angry too often. In her head, it wasn’t this difficult to be with someone, to communicate, to get along. She was enraged that things were not turning out the way she hoped.

And then his behaviour made it all worse. He began to pull away, talking to her less and not spending time together. She despised that he was lying to her. Even for the simplest of things under the pretext of “not wanting to upset her”. It made everything worse. Because she knew what the truth was and how he was lying about it. It made her feel as if he didn’t think she could handle the truth or that he did not trust her. She had always wondered, if people are doing things that they have to lie about, then why do them in the first place?

She was a person of discipline and order, and uncertainty did not fare well with her. So she began to walk away too, giving up trying to reconcile their romance. But in her heart she still hoped he would see clearly and claim her back. He always knew how to do that at first: it only took a flower, a kiss, a kind gesture, and she would melt in his arms. Princes have that ability: to charm you.

A Wheel ride

©Dale Rogerson

There is a saying that if you don’t like the way things are, change your point of view. You are bound to see things differently.

She hoped that would work when she asked him to go to the fair, simply for a ride on the Ferris Wheel.

With the city landscape covered by nightfall and the colourful lights beaming, they suddenly became more tranquil. As if all the tension and stress were lifted, as the Wheel began to turn.

I’m sorry,” he said, as he placed her hand inside his.

It didn’t make everything OK, but it was a start.

Also part  of Friday Fictioneers

The option of retaliation

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The wind howled waking her up almost constantly. It was hard to sleep soundly when you were constantly worried that your entire house would be blown down. For a person already overcome by anxiety and stress, this was almost too much to bear.

The morning began with rain in addition to the gale. It was ice cold outside.

She had promised to meet him at their usual café. She was comforted by the fact that it was almost certain the fireplace would be on today.

He was already waiting for her when she arrived. But, following the gentleman’s rulebook, he hadn’t ordered yet.

He smiled widely upon laying eyes on her. His whole face brightened immediately, bringing out the sun in an otherwise freezing day. She was still reserved. It wasn’t easy to let things go so abruptly. To forget. Overthinkers have this disadvantage. They remember everything. Especially the bad things.

He reached out to grab her hand but she pulled back using the cold as an excuse.

He was seeking another chance. A fresh start. A new beginning. Hope.

In her head, a million things were gushing through. Thoughts of retaliation, of payback, of making him experience the same, of handing him too the same absolute demands and the ultimatum he so carelessly gave her back then. She could feel the anger steaming up inside her. Her head suddenly felt all too hot and it wasn’t because of the fireplace.

She took a deep breath, trying to quieten down the yelling inside of her.

It wouldn’t lead anywhere. She tried to console herself. If she acted in the same way, if she wronged him as he had once done to her, there was no point in even trying to be there together.  Ghandi had said “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind”. He was right. There is a reason why one person must always maintain a superior level. Because if you too retaliate in the same way, you are no better in the end. Perhaps you’re even worse, because you knew of an alternative way and did not take it.

Fear of the unknown

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“Come on, let’s go!” His voice was anxious, masking the excitement and enthusiasm of a well-kept secret only he knew.

She was reserved, almost scared. Where were they going? Why? What would be there? How would they go? How long would it take? Her mind was a whirlwind of questions. She probably appeared dazed too, perhaps betraying her confusion to the outsider. So much, that it prompted him to reassure her. “It’ll be fine. Don’t be so afraid. It’s going to be fun!”

He took her hand and led her to the car. He smiled at her, his eyes glowing. She smiled back nervously. “Sometimes you don’t need to have all the answers,” he said.

When the car stopped, he turned towards her. She was gazing outside trying to figure out where they were. “Close your eyes”, he said. She was almost shocked. “Come on, close your eyes. You’ll ruin the surprise otherwise. Don’t you trust me?” It was a cheap card to play – the trust issue – but he knew she would cave to it. “No peeking either!”

She gripped his arm as he led her out of the car and up a grassy hill. The fresh air penetrated her nostrils and filled her lungs with oxygen. It helped her get her mind off the fact that her heart was pumping mad with anguish about this unknown event.

We’re here,” he said. She timidly opened her eyes.

In the middle of a picture-perfect scene – green valley, tall trees in bloom, colourful flowers, peace and quiet – there lay a picnic feast waiting for them.

She laughed wholeheartedly and jumped in his arms.

“Sometimes not knowing too much is the best way to keep calm,” he winked.

Childish excitement

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This was her favourite time of year. Not because of the festive holiday season and the magic that spread everywhere, but because she loved the feeling of snuggling up somewhere warm with a hot beverage and good company.

He shared the feeling. Because it reminded him of how wonderful it was to feel like a child again. To be excited with the little things, to play without caring what others thought, and to rekindle his lust for life.

She brought that out in him. She made him happy.

And he made her forget everything that bothered her. He turned her negative obsessions to positive aspirations.

That night of a new moon, he took her hand and led her to a Christmas market. There were jingles in the air, the smell of roasting chestnuts, happy cheers and lots and lots of bright lights.

And in the midst of it all was that magical place.

A carousel.

He helped her onto a plastic almost life-size horse and his eyes sparkled as he saw her smile lighting up her entire face. Her eyes were two diamonds in the night. And he knew he was simply lucky to be there.

It is the people who rekindle that feeling of being a child who are most deserved to be loved by you. Because they remind you of that lost innocence and of that bewilderment at every single thing in life. Witness things as a miracle and you have found happiness.

“Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it” – Roald Dahl

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