Chapter Two: Exiled Love
So many dates went by that I forgot about my pain. I became careless and carefree; I could feel like I could fly. I tried to stay grounded, but I found myself in heaven dreaming of her.
She had fallen madly in love with me. I felt free of the pain. The endless bounty of love filled my very essence. I hated the world because for some strange reason they didn’t stop hating me. It was something I often used to, and it didn’t matter because I found love. I often dreamed of just sitting by the beach with her. I often thought about laying under the stars curled up with her. It was a dream, a dream in the high sky.
I had a few years with Mistia; we were about to elope. Everything and anything was going right. I felt so much better knowing that the curse would come to an end. That everyone would love me and accept me for who I was. We, Mistia and I, were engaged. I would be free from the wretched curse. I felt comfort in knowing that it will stop.
It was two days before our wedding date. My girl didn’t tell anyone about it but the person that was marrying us. So many years had passed since my mother died and since the strange day, everything was horrible. Since I could remember the world was out to get me. There, on the last day, right before we got married.
She, Mistia, brutally murdered. Her throat cut. The crime happened on the streets of Germany. I was the first to find her. I cried. I wept as I held her green eyes in my hand. That was the real moment when I became a man. I felt like running as far away as possible. I even thought of tearing myself from limb to limb and having someone bury me across the world; scattered.
No! I sat there to hold her weak dead body. Then I hear a horrid voice as twisted as a knot in a tree. As old as the tallest oak. As Shrewd as a banshee and as sharply as a nail on a chalkboard.
“Did you think you could escape?! run away from this curse?! Be free from me??!”
“no, no, I thought to kill you! Witch!” I said.
She laughed and laughed in her sharp voice. It felt like the cat scratching all the way down to the bone. My tears seem to fuel her jealousy, and her jealousy appears to fuel my rage.
“I killed her myself, she begged and begged for mercy. I smiled as a slowly cut her jugular vein; she choked on her blood,”
She laughed again. I swung at her, in tears. It went right through. I collapsed on the street. My tears fell to the ground.
Her sharp shriek pierced my ears like a knife into bone.
“GIVE up! Deary, you’ve been defeated. You will never have true love as long as you live,” Arlianic Shern said.
RAGE, blind, pain fueled rage came into me. I Tried for another hit in this evil monster face, and nothing happened. I heard the echo of laughter around me. She had disappeared.
I looked down at my fiancee. She wasn’t even in her dress. I held her cold corpse next to mine. I had spent an hour before they found me holding her.
When the police found me, I became a suspected number one. I knew that there was no way of proving my innocence. They wouldn’t believe anything I said; they would think I was nuts. In 1919 August first, I was tried for the murder of my fiance Mistia. I was found guilty and hanged that next day.
I pretend to be dead until they forgot about me. My neck was sore, but it healed instantly. My heart, though, had become twisted and torn. It felt like I had died inside. It felt like a piece of me was gone forever.
I took advantage of my death and ran away to America with my impenitent and bone heart. My stone heart, which I had closed lock and all. I became like a troll from a fairy tale. I hid under bridges and never ate. I never drank. I had several moments of death only to be awoken to her not there in this hell. No savior, no heroes, no damsel just me dying and undying. I still found the notes and would hear her voice scream for me.
For hours, I would cry and be hysterical. It felt like centuries of hell until I saw her face. She had to be twenty-one. She was carrying a Bible, and she had brown eyes. I felt instant attraction; my heart beat again. I felt the blood rushing through my body and into my heart. No longer did I feel like I was dead or to die by my hand but that someone had heard my soul weeping in the night. I was under a bridge in new york. It was summer time. I was a mess, but I hadn’t aged since I was twenty-five. It was 1933. I had learned English from the time I knew Mistia, and she taught me.
She knelt down before me. Laid the bible next to me, She was a brown-eyed woman with bright ocean colored eyes. She was wearing a long dress and was very pristine and clean. She was radiating with a beautiful, perfect smile. She was like an angel sent down from heaven. She was like a flower that had just blossom off of a flowering orchid.
“poor man, Have you heard of Jesus?” she said looking into my eyes.
I felt rage, but I didn’t say anything because I knew she was a gift. A gift to save myself from the horror of knowing I couldn’t die, that I couldn’t love that nothing or anything ever cared about me, not even the animals that roam about here.
“No, I don’t, please tell me,” I said.
“I will if you come, you look horrid, pork chop,” she said.
I felt like letting the pain get out. I had died so many times only to get back to the realizing that I was alone, all alone in this world. Now, This angel has come again just in the different form, and I call it mercy.
I knew and felt that primarily the universe has come again to create another window of opportunity. There was another chance to be redeemed, to-be-loved.
She helps me get up, and she said her name was Sarah, She was a Christian, and she was very much a kind gentle soul. A part of me felt anger against God and blamed him for all my misery, I lied to her and said I believed. She loved Jesus just as much as I felt strong feeling for her. Sometimes I felt angry about it.
We started dating. This women let me live with her and cleaned me up a bit. To my dismay, everyone didn’t like me. They still hated me. They are still angry at me. It boiled my blood. I felt like a rugged that get walked all over.
We moved from New York to Florida. Where we started to, actually date heavily. I didn’t care about marriage, but she insisted on it, saying that she needed a ring or she would leave. I had a job and changed my name to Jim Darnall. I enjoyed every moment with Sarah and every day I was with her. It came to one day that I knelt before her and proposed.
She said, “Yes!”
End of chapter two
Story Telling Nook 