First Love

Comments are welcome; insults to the author are not. Please be courteous.

I guess this fits best in Non-Erotic. I thought about LW but went against that idea

I think the story is good, I hope you will too. There is no sex in this story. It is sort of about cheating and deception, and death. Do not read any further if you do not like these subjects. It will be worthwhile to continue, though.

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Somebody said they saw me. The problem is, I was nowhere near the place. I was on the other side of town. I swear!

The only light in the area was about 100 feet from the scene of the crime. They said it was my coat and hat for sure. The light was too dim to identify the face. But they all swear it looked like me.

My name does not matter; I am now long gone and buried. It has been over 10 years.

I did not get a headstone, but she planted violets on my grave. Death flowers; that's what the old-timers called them. You plant them on the grave and when they burn all the weeds off the cemetery in the spring the first thing that grows back is the violets. The grass takes a few months to grow, and even then you mostly get weeds. But, green is green: and the weeds stop most of the dirt from running off.

The county does not spend a lot of time worrying about this part of the town cemetery. It is referred to as Potters Field. Only the poor, the unknown and criminals get buried here.

I do get a visitor every now and then. She dresses in a black veil so it is difficult to tell who she is. To make it more difficult she comes in through the woods that line the cemetery, after dark. I believe she loves me like she said the night they came to get me. While she is here she cries until she is all dried up.

She and I were lovers from way back. It was long before she married that man. He was my best friend. WAS is the key word in that statement.

She was mine until I was called to serve my country. When I came home he had convinced her that I no longer cared for her and they were married. I knew he was crooked; but I never thought he would stoop to that level.

Almost all of the letters I sent never made it there; that was the story. I found out later from a drunken fellow that they were intercepted and burned. The letters she wrote met a similar fate. I was gone for 2 years; when I returned she would not speak to me. I learned why years later, from her mother. I met her during one of my drying out periods.

By then my head was all sorts of messed up. Between the killing, exploding bodies and the betrayal I was not worth a damn. The alcohol and everything else just made me worse.

We met in school like many couples do. Neither of us was the best looking or the smartest; but we were not at the bottom of the barrel either. I decided I liked her after she threw herself at me for over 3 years. OK, I was slow on the uptake about that. So sue me.

We were inseparable through high school; we gave each other our virginity in 10th grade. We promised to love each other always. I was in heaven and we were set for life.

Until! Until I got the letter that said "Greeting,".... Did you ever think the government was a little cheep; they take your life for years or more, the least they could do is give you more than one. Greeting, my ass!!!

When I came back from basic she was all over me, and I was all over her. We cried the last day I was there, swore we would wait forever, and then I was sent to war.

I won't subject you to my feelings or visions of the carnage I saw. I will just say I wanted to be home. The mail was poor at best; many times we got none for weeks at a time. Mom and Dad had both died in an accident about 2 months before I was called up. I had no other living relatives that I ever knew of. The only one to write to was her: the only one to hear from was her. It started out doing OK, and then things just stopped. There was no way to go home; all I could do was nothing.

I now know how he convinced her that I no longer cared for her. It was the involuntary abandonment on my part; never writing her a letter or any contact for over a year and a half. They were married a month before I got back.

When I returned I desperately needed her love and understanding to heal my scars from battle. She would not even speak to me; just turned and ran away, crying. Since I no longer had her love I swam as deep as I could into the bottom of a bottle. I stayed there for the better part of 5 years.

The month after I was released from the county jail I ran into her mother. It was only the 6th time I was put away for public drunkenness. We happened to meet at the local gas station.

She gave me hell; among they thing she said was she "...she was glad I had not written to her daughter if all I was gonna be in my life was a FUCKING drunk."

As I walked away my ears picked up the comment and I returned to talk to her. I told her I had written at least once per week, even after she had stopped writing to me.

"Stopped writing to you?" she yelled at the top of her lungs. "She wrote to you until the night before she married."

My mouth dropped open. I stuttered and mumbled for a few seconds and then told her "I never got a letter after I had been there for 3 months."

She was stunned. After looking at each other for a while we both were convinced we had heard the truth.

Her mother said that as much as she hated her daughter's husband for the way he treated her, she was not going to drive the last nail into the coffin on the marriage. Mom would tell her she should at least listen to me one time if we ran across each other.

With that remark Mom gave me a light hug and we parted.

Now, I knew the husband worked 3 to 11, and then went to the bar and many times he got raging drunk before going home. He then slept it off until he had to get up and go to work again.

I stayed sober from that point on; the sheriff took the credit for it. He said he finally got through to me.

One afternoon I happened to run into her near the lake where we used to hang out. She did not see me as I walked up to her; she looked to be deep in thought.

I asked if I could sit and talk.

She jumped in shock. "Mom said there were things I did not know, so let's get this over with."

I told her I had written to her every week while I was gone and I now understood she had written to me. However, the letters never got to either of us. I also knew that her husband hung around with the guy who worked at the post office while I was gone. They drank together; after they married the two of them never drank together again. I told her that I still loved her when I returned, but the love was slowly dying of starvation.

She did not love her husband and had no idea why they married. "I guess it was on the rebound" she said. Their love life was nothing, he could not do anything. Then he would beat her saying it was her fault.

Gradually we started to run into each other more and more. We spoke often. She told me she could not leave him, "She made her bed, now she had to lie in it."

We met out near the lake and started to become closer and closer. One day we kissed; the fireworks were still there.

It took a year but we finally became intimate again. The first time we both felt really bad, the more we did the less we cared.

Then one night while we lay together; there was a killing near the town hall. The next day I was asked where I had been at that time. I said I was home in bed, alone.

A few months later the judge offered me a chance to provide witnesses that I was telling the truth, I said nothing.

I was soon hung and buried.

9 months after our last meeting she gave birth to a perfect baby boy, 4 months later her husband shook the child until he died.

They were divorced while he was in prison.

She never dated or took up with another man; she lives with her mother and is frequently known to visit the back corner of the Potter's Field.