Christmas
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  • Parts 2
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  • Reads 13
  • Votes 0
  • Parts 2
  • Time <5 mins
Ongoing, First published Dec 13, 2018
During World War I, on and around Christmas Day 1914, the sounds of rifles firing and shells exploding faded in a number of places along the Western Front in favor of holiday celebrations in the trenches and gestures of goodwill between enemies.

Starting on Christmas Eve, many German and British troops sang Christmas carols to each other across the lines, and at certain points the Allied soldiers even heard brass bands joining the Germans in their joyous singing.

At the first light of dawn on Christmas Day, some German soldiers emerged from their trenches and approached the Allied lines across no-man's-land, calling out "Merry Christmas" in their enemies' native tongues. At first, the Allied soldiers feared it was a trick, but seeing the Germans unarmed they climbed out of their trenches and shook hands with the enemy soldiers. The men exchanged presents of cigarettes and plum puddings and sang carols and songs. There was even a documented case of soldiers from opposing sides playing a good-natured game of soccer.

Some soldiers used this short-lived ceasefire for a more somber task: the retrieval of the bodies of fellow combatants who had fallen within the no-man's land between the lines.
The so-called Christmas Truce of 1914 came only five months after the outbreak of war in Europe and was one of the last examples of the outdated notion of chivalry between enemies in warfare. It was never repeated-future attempts at holiday ceasefires were quashed by officers' threats of disciplinary action-but it served as heartening proof, however brief, that beneath the brutal clash of weapons, the soldiers' essential humanity endured.

During World War I, the soldiers on the Western Front did not expect to celebrate on the battlefield, but even a world war could not destory the Christmas spirit.
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This was my first time. I patiently waited for the man Dua Begum told me would be my first to bed with. After starting to bleed two years ago, my stepmother left me at a pleasure house when my father abandoned us. Since then, I've accepted the pleasure house as my new home. He walked in a black Kurta with subtle green eyes and a deep voice. The moment he asked my name and age and then proposed to me for the wedding, I fell in love. There was no denying it. I was just fifteen, and he was nineteen. But, ever since the night of our wedding, he has not come back to take me with him to his home. He left me alone, stranded, burning for him. I did not know who he was. What did he do? All I knew was that he was the soul of my World. My Jaan-e-Jahan. Seven years later, he came back as a storm in my life. As Sultan Rehman Sulaiman. The son of the man who took everything from my family, even before my birth. The reason I ended up in the Pleasure House in the first place. But my love for my husband, the Sultan, is bigger than the mountains, deeper than the oceans, and wider than the skies, even though he is himself a Mountain, impossible to move, an ocean, scaring people to stay away, and a wide sky, impossible to reach. Discipline is everything for him. He is full of love and respect for his family but equally heartless and dangerous toward those who cross him. And, in all of this, I entered his life as a burning flame, a tiny candle's flame, dancing for his attention, crying for his affection, and dying for his love. Until he killed my only loved one. My love died. And, his never bloomed. I was once a bud, unbloomed Rose, who opened my deep red petals for him, and he turned them black, leaving me forgotten inside the dying pages. Was I always forgotten for him? Did he never consider me anything more than a mere responsibility? Will I always be remembered as Bride of Sultan ~ The Forgotten Rose? Mature Content!!! @Copyright 2025