Hello,

As the title says this is a short story that I have been slowly working on for a few years. I’ve stopped and come back to it many, many times. But I think it’s time for it to be shared again or else it won’t (and I won’t!) get any better.

So, please, I invite you to tear it apart. Any feedback would be welcome. I’m not sure how it works, since I’m still new here, but if you’d prefer to send a DM instead of leaving a comment you may do so!

Edit: Sorry for the formatting. It was too big for a single post or comment so I had to split it into 4 parts. It should all be chained together within the first comment. (Sort comments by Old)

Synopsis:

{This is a standalone piece.}

A mysterious love letter leads a man on a road to self-discovery.

#writing #shortstory #fiction

  • aegisofdark@beehaw.orgOP
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    1 year ago
    Part 4 (final):

    Sitting there in silence, I was trying to take in the words this kind woman had just shared with me. A clock chimed from somewhere in the church.

    The priest cleared his throat as if he were commanding that all the attention in the church to be on him. He seemed to have taken notice of us, perhaps asking us to be mindful while attending the service. He simply nodded his thanks and turned back towards the women in front of the urn. They placed a bouquet of flowers beside it and stepped back to their place beside the altar. There was a disconcerting silence that followed. Finally, the priest began to speak.

    “As the family of the deceased would like a short, informal service, I will be saying a few words in his memory. I would ask that you pray along with us."

    He waited a moment for whispers to stop and continued, "In life, we oftentimes do not seem to realise just how deeply we are affected by a person’s absence until much later. We do, however, eventually come to realise after time has passed and the pain has began to dull that they are never truly gone. We know in our heart of hearts that they are forever with us, and with God. God gives his love to all his creatures from the moment they are conceived and even after they join him in heaven. God’s love is irrevocable. God’s love is unconditional. God’s love is eternal. We should all remember to pay heed to the words that God has left us.”

    Trying to give some privacy as the family wept together I turned to look at the woman beside me. She was holding her handkerchief against her face and slowly nodded in agreement with what had been said.

    The priest, with a resounding voice, began to read from the Bible:

    Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

    The verse reverberated off the stone walls, echoing with each word. Even though we were all separated in the church, it felt as if my soul was being penetrated with this overwhelming sentiment of closeness and solidarity.

    I began to examine my life and what was truly considered to be love. Was it more than just juggling multiple women to satisfy your constant loneliness? And even then, was love more than just finding someone to enjoy having sex? A small hand covered mine once again and gave me the reassurance I needed.

    I got up and smiled at the woman before I left, thanking her for understanding my situation and for her guidance. I walked a few more blocks before I had finally returned to my apartment. All the while I was thinking about what I needed to change: I needed to have faith in myself and make my own future with it. Standing inside my apartment I fished the love letter out of my pocket, tearing it up and throwing it into the trash bin. Walking into the bedroom I lay down on my bed. Drifting off to sleep, I felt a peaceful sensation; for the first time since… I don’t know when, I felt fulfilled. I felt like I had a path forward, and I wasn’t going to lose sight of it.

                             #
    

    I’d returned to that church on Sunday. And the next two after that. However, I hadn’t seen that woman again since the night I met her. Occasionally, I’d still stop in and sit in that church when I needed to think about important things going on in my life.

    She must have been my wake-up call; my beacon, my paddle, pointing me in the right direction when I had very much gotten myself lost. She didn’t throw me into the river of faith. She guided me to the shores and told me to dip my toes in. She let me figure it out for myself where I needed to go.

    I will never forget what it was that she taught me:

    Love is not something easy. You can’t demand it. You can search all you want, but when you’re looking in all the wrong places you won’t find it. If you don’t give up, love will find you.

    Love is a freely given gift.

    And it comes from the heart.