Collection of my sad stories

The old Soldier

1942, Yorkshire, Hull.

A man twenty-seven years of age with blonde hair and blue eyes sat in a bar holding a pint of beer in his hands though he was in his late twenties the trauma embedded in him made him look several years older, at least early thirties... The man in question looked up at the bar's calendar it had been almost a year since they had won the war, Germany had surrendered Hitler had lost - that was the end of it. Now they needed to rebuild England.

However, hatred and grudges die hard. He still had nightmares of those camps, of his comrades, of his brother, and of the man who killed them. 

How could he forget him? The man who took almost everything he loved away from him. A year and he still could not forgive and move on. He could not move on while that monster still breathed, he had shot him in the leg the last time he saw him, but that was not good enough.

His mind went back to his mother... Such a kind woman she was...
She would most likely disprove of his actions.

'Revenge is for the weak, forgiveness is for the strong.'

He hesitated for a moment but then the memories returned to his mind once. More... He had to die, so he didn't know the man's name, or where he lived but he could remember his face. If his brother and comrades had to die then the murderer must too. He would find him and make him pay.

****

It took the man three whole year's to achieve his goal, finally, he flew to Germany, Munich and got off the plane around 10:30 at night and booked a hotel for the night, however, he could not sleep not only because of the act he was going to commit the next day, no - Because of the dreams that plagued him every night as he rest.

The next day he woke up and went to the murderers home with a knife and a gun at the ready, the knife to kill him with the gun in case the man persisted in living.

He knocked on the door and in his pocket, he held the knife at the ready.

But who answered was but a boy over seven years of age with lovely blue-green eyes and dirty blonde hair. He smiled at the child and asked in German for the name of the man he was pursuing. The boy smiled:

"My dad can't come to the door right now - he is still under heavy medication, he can't walk in one leg a British soldier shot him there my mother has to work, so she can't come up either, what do you want, I can relay on the message." The boy replied.

This caused the hair on the back of the man's head to go up, for just then he realised he had become the very force he thought he was at war with, now he realised the only war that he was fighting was inside of him.

His father had when he was but a young lad, he only had his mother and brother... Until he lost them too his mother died in one of the bombings while he and his brother were fighting in the war, and we all k ow what became of his younger brother... How could he allow the same fate to befall this innocent child, no it wasn't only the child who was innocent, it was also the man - both of them never wanted to be involved in their countries wars, neither of them wished that. Neither of them wanted their homes bombed or their loved ones to be taken away. Nay, there are no villains or monsters here. For the only true monsters reside inside of our hearts and the only way to get rid of those monsters is forgiveness.
The man clenched his fists tightly as the breeze flew off him, the boy looked at the elder man with apparent confusion... And fear?

"Yes, I do have something I wish to tell him - Tell him he has a beautiful son, and also... Tell him I'm sorry."

****

Ten years flew by fast during this time the man helped rebuild London, and Hull, his hometown in York. The nightmares still haunted the man but every time he imagined the boy reading with his father they became worth it. For he had long banished his monsters from his heart and now be lay peacefully on a hospital bed attended to by nurses and doctors. They tried to help him but even the man understood that his time would come - he would soon see his family and comrades again.

So he closed his eyes and prepared to depart when he felt someone hold his hand he looked at the doctor who now held his hand as the young medical worker leaned in and whispered in his ear:

"My father says he forgives you, and that he is sorry too."

The man looked up at the blue-green eyes and smiled.

"Thank goodness." His eyes closed once more and his soul blew off into the wind. In the arms of the boy, he had saved so long ago. He could now leave in peace for he understood what his mother had said so long ago.

'Forgiveness is for the strong.'