A Long Battle to Reality

HI readers, I hoped you like the story entitled "One wrong night one wrong path". I have been digging through the files to show you my past works and I particularly like this one. (Its a bit short though!). The title is "A long battle to reality". It is originally written on 8th September 2000. That was like more than 8 years ago. My new piece is going to be up soon but I just want you all to read my past works first. Enjoy reading!

The story starts.........

It had been quite some time since I had last stepped into this concrete jungle. Things had changed so much from the day I left this place for a faraway place for a battle I got to fight. I remembered ten years ago, when I was just only twenty years old. A youth full of vitality, spirit and dreams to fight for my country. Now ten years later, my town has changed so much and I do not know much of what reality is all about in this changed place.
As I walked with the help of my clutches, my comrades and I strolled down the pavement. It had been an hour since we had walked out of our military base about a mile away from where we were right now. Strange eyes looked at us. Some gave us sympathetic glances, others had scornful glares. Some of my comrades had just one leg or a hand or was mutilated in one way or another due to one cause or another in the war. Painful memories of those times were forced down deep into our brains but yet stayed afloat in our minds whenever we saw each other in this stage. I was very lucky to just survive the war with fractures, numerous bruises and umpteen blood clots in my veins. Even though my physical injuries were insignificant, my mental injuries were ingrained and severe. Traumas, amnesia and a great loss of touch with reality in the civilisation seemed to be sticking onto my train of thoughts like a leech all these while.
When I reached to my home where I had written the address on my dog tag, it was not a home but an almost torn-down building. Wild thoughts came to my mind. What had happened to these buildings? Where did all the families go? What am I going to do?

I sank down to the floor, devastated. I felt as if an icy-cold knife had cut into my heart, my brain and my limbs. My limbs lost feeling, my heart muscle felt a strain from another major emotional setback, I was in a severe state of depression. I did not know what was going on. It was terrible, just very terrible beyond description. It suddenly succumbed to me that I had nowhere to go and that it would not be easy to find my family in my town.
I was a very tired man, I could call myself a war veteran at the age of thirty even though it was inappropriate. Even though I had yet to hit the middle age, I was all so worn out, without anything but the clothes I had on my war-hardened body. On that night, I was so drained out that I slept in front of a building, unaware of the surroundings.

When I woke up, the sun was already up in the sky. I found a few coins beside me. I felt so inferior. I felt like a beggar, a helpless beggar who after all these years had seemed to fail in his life. I took the coins and they were barely enough to buy me a loaf of plain bread for me to eat. People around me shunned me or just mongered weird remarks among themselves.

I regretted fighting that war which destroyed my youth which everybody had only once and nobody could turn back in time to enjoy youth once again. All they gave was that small amount of miserable compensation and a medal, which fetched little value. In return, all I had was a memory of what my family was like ten years ago. My kid brother should be fifteen years old. My elder sister who was two years my senior should be married by then and all the merry, sad and terrifying memories, which stuck to me like glue. I walked and walked, hoping to see one of my family members but to no avail. Then, someone tap my shoulder from behind.

"Hi, I am Marie, you must be one of the war veterans who came back. You are really great, what is your name?" I turned around and saw a female who seemed to be in her late-twenties. She was petite with wavy shoulder-length hair, which framed her oval-shaped face. Her eyes were sparkling blue and her rosy cheeks highlighted when she smiled. I was at first very cynical of the remarks of strangers.

“Just call me Mark,” my lie was short and sweet.
"Please take this, you would like it," As she spoke, she gave me a packet the size of two palms. I opened up and they are freshly-made cookies. I was so elated that I forgot all about my manners and ate them up in a fast and crude manner.

She continued," I have seen you around in this neighbourhood, it seems that you are homeless, I can always let you stay in my grandmother's place, I think that you wouldn't mind."
I was too delighted and just thanked her numerous times.

She interrupted, “Do not thank me. You should thank my grandmother, you would understand when you reached our place.”

It was her charm and charisma that won over my stubbornness and pride that I finally agreed to her suggestion. When I went into the cottage where her grandmother stayed, it was small but yet cosy.

An old lady came out of the kitchen and greeted me. She mentioned, “You must be the war veteran. I have always respected war veterans as my husband is one of them, but it was a pity he passed away just recently. I have seen you wandering in the streets and I have asked my grand daughter to help me offer you a place to stay.”

I forced myself to smile in front of the old lady and her grand daughter and accepted the offer even though deep down inside, the many emotional wounds were still fresh and deep.

Ever since that day, her grandmother treated me like her own grandson and we enjoyed each other’s company. Marie also visited her grandmother and that we would have dinner together and enjoyed the many conversations after dinner. It was occasional at first but as time goes by, it became more and more frequent. Inspite of the good company I had right now, I still missed my family members. It had been almost a year in town but my search for my family members or any traces of them came to nothing. As I stepped out and took a stroll along the streets on one day, I accidentally overheard a conversation between a few owners of the torn-down building where I once lived. I was so excited that I began attentive and eavesdropped over the conversation, but to my disappointment, I could not receive any information of any of my family members.

When I went back to the cottage and told Marie and her grandmother about what I had found out. I felt sad and they too felt sad for me.

Suddenly, Maria came over to me and told me," You have been good to the both of us, helping us in every way you can. I know that it is very hard for you to accept the fact that you might not be able to find your family but that you still got me. I..."
I interrupted with a defensive tone," No, don't get the wrong idea. You have accommodated me when I was homeless, it is my duty to help you in return. I have lost touch of reality. Lost touch of the warmness of the family, lost touch of what is happening around me. Regaining this touch of reality back is an uphill task for me. I have been so disillusioned by life that I forgot what is love, what is hate and so on. You do not know me ten years ago, but I have to admit that I am a changed man and no longer the man ten years back."
Marie stood up and suddenly grabbed my arm. I was stunned and looked at her in disbelief. Her eyes gave me a caring and alluring look, which was all so familiar but I could not recall. She admitted," The reason why I wanted you to stay in my grandmother’s home was that we were childhood friends. We have lost touch ten years ago because you went to war and that we had a liking for each other. I prayed for these many years that the war would be over and you would come back and may fate bring us together. When I saw you, I could not really recognise you but I took a few days to confirm who you really were. You are Richard Sanders, not Mark. But all these while, you could not recognise who I am. Though, I am very disappointed with you, I would still ….love you.”

As she uttered the last statements, her eyes turned red and tears trickled down her cheeks. She turned away and faced her back at me. I was stunned and shocked at the last few words she said. My mind, which was slowly regaining organisation and logic, was thrown back into a heap of catastrophic confusion.

I fumbled for a reply," No, you cannot love me, you are a pretty young lass who deserves a better man than I do. I am just a retired soldier who has nothing with him. I don't deserve you. I have to leave. Thank you both,"

I looked at her grandmother who was further away. She shook her head and gave a sign. "I thank you for all the help you have given to me, but that I am a lost man, a lost soul who had already lost meaning in life. I cannot carry on living in your home. I must leave. Sorry," I concluded.

I just did not know why but I had the conscience to leave this place without turning back my head and my steps turned quicker as my walk turned to a jog and then a run. I just ran as far as possible from everything. I did not know which part of my mind pushed me to a strong sense of denial and rejection of love from someone whom I once liked, I did not care whether my family existed, I did not care how Marie felt about me. I just went blank on my mind, totally blank.
I ran to my old home where it was already brought down and a flat piece of land lied in front of me. A big patch of brown soil welcomed me. I dropped to my knees and kneeled in front of this piece of land. Tears welled up my eyes as I banged my fist against the soil, not aware that I had cut myself with broken glass. I began to feel a sense of insanity kicking in me. I just kneeled there for the whole day and night, not aware and not oblivious to my surroundings at all.
As the chill wind blew across my hair, my face, down to my torso and kneeling legs, I felt that I had lost track of time, space and last of all reality. Even now, I did not know whether I am alive or dead myself........