1935 - 1975 Eternal Love.

(Recommended: while reading listen to slow piano music. It is not mandatory)

September, 18th, 1975.

Dear Steve,
My love, my all, I wish you could hear my call for help. It has been almost forty years since you left me, and I still hope to hear your voice one more time. That last day we spent together, I remember you hugged me and told me to listen to your heart beat. I wish I could still hear it beat so close to my ear, feel the warmth of your arms around me. The slow thuds that used to make me relax next to you and fall asleep in your hug. I wish your eyes would look at me again, opening that acceptance of you in my heart. I wish all I could do was say hello to you one more time, one last time, and spend that last day with you all over again. I want to hold you the way you held me, and kiss your face slowly, thanking you for doing what you do, and for being who you are.
The moment we first met, I remember there was no way that you would leave me and go your own way. But after some time, I gave up, let you talk to me, and I got to know you. In time, I realized that you were exactly what I was looking for; everything in me knew you were the one I wanted. After those days, we began spending more and more time together, and all I could think of was you. Two years of pouring love into each other's ears, butterfly kisses and bear hugs, soft caresses on your face and mine, soft nibbles on each other's lips. It was all perfect.
Every time I saw you, I ran to you, I could not bare the distance, I could hardly wait to be in those strong arms that held me so tight against the body that carried them. I could not wait to run the distance, and you could hardly resist running to me as well. I remember the first time you came back from the war in 1932; you looked so happy, that I cried. I cried for the happiness of having you near me again, and for all the months I had spent on my own, trying to convince myself that you were fine, and that everything was going to be okay. I cried because of all the months we had spent sending letters back and forth, and for all the time we waited before we received the next letter, which most expressed how much we loved each other and how everything was. You cried because you could hold me one more time, because you saw me cry. You wiped the tears off my face and told me not to worry, that you were with me. We laughed then, and from that moment on, we spent every day together again, like we used to before you had left for the first time.
When the time came for you to leave for war again, we cried together one more time, and hugged so hard that we could hardly breathe. The past days had been the happiest days of my life. Days, weeks, I treasure in my old heart. I can still hear the beat of your strong heart which I heard those first days we spent together when we were twenty.
On September, 22 of 1935 I received a letter from you. It was dated: September, 18th, 1935. You could not tell me where you were or what you were going to do those next days. All you told me was that you loved me and that if something were to happen, you would always, always be by my side to take care of me and watch me while I sleep. You said that if you weren't to come back home, that you hoped that I remembered only the good and kind of you, and to forget whatever bad you had done, or whatever faults you had. I never found any bad in you, and all I remember now are the days we were able to spend together.
That letter was the last one I received that was written by your hand.
The next letter I received was on September, 24th, 1935. It was dated: September, 20th, 1935. It read: We are sorry to inform you that Mr. Stephen O'Brien has been killed the morning of the present day. I dropped it, and wept for what seemed like years. I then slept, and spent most of my time crying for you, even in dreams.
I miss your hands, your voice, your scent. I miss your words whispering in my ear whenever I hugged you, and your arms wrapped tightly around my fragile body. I miss you. That first day we spent together, I realized we were meant to be.
The memories are beginning to fade away, and I can no longer remember the sound of your voice. It has all been so long ago, and still, the love for you I felt in my heart when I was young remains. In the bottom of my heart, I know you will always be the only one who knew exactly how to love me, take care of me, and the only one who knew me from the inside to the outside.
All I ask for, and have been asking for, for the last forty years is to have you hug me again, and to hear your voice one more time. Just once, because you were what made me smile. After receiving that last letter you had written, I collapsed, and smiled only when being polite, but the sadness remained. It has been too long to remember, but I wish I could be young again, and be held by you once more.
There is no way of saying good-bye to someone who is already gone, but, still, everything counts. So, I bid you farewell my love, my heart, my soul. I say good-bye to you while I can, and still wish for that last hug and whisper of love. I missed you before, I miss you now, and always.
Your eternal love.
Sabrina.

From the Gates to the Wisdom

From the gates to the palace I have described for so long, I can tell you there is a winding path that will take you farther from home than you've ever imagined, and you will experience the most morbid and horrid of times on you way to the innermost heart of the dark kingdom. This path will lead you to your freedom, but it will also lead you to a part of you, which you do not want to know. A part which will make you forget your past and all the knowledge that came with it. All you have achieved through all the years of your life, will be gone as soon as you step across those gates. This is the only way into the dark palace, and the only way out, if you are able to find any. The grim creatures that wander through these places, and the dark magic that lives on the inside of these walls, belong to one master, and one master only: The Great Wanderer. He looks upon good and evil as he would a root or a flower. He has no mercy and shows no mercy. He neither lives nor is dead. He is infinite, but yet, he has an end. He is the lord of all lords, and believes in none and trusts no one. You must be careful as you walk in, and exceptionally careful when you speak. Dare not you look into his eyes, for he will never forgive nor forget the one who stares at him, or the one who dares speak to his eyes. You must bow your head, and he shall hear the cry for mercy, and the plea for forgiveness. Beware... For the road is treacherous, and the path an infinite staircase to the inside of the Earth. At the bottom, He awaits. Impatience marks His every word, and makes Him claw the ground which holds His paws. He will not tolerate the sound of another angry temper; for it is the end of His reign, and the beginning of a new era for this world and the subterranean world beneath our feet, and He knows it. He perceives it, just as He perceives that there is someone coming to take it all from Him. It all begins now, as soon as you enter those gates, as soon as you set your first step on the other side of these walls. It all begins now. Good luck, my son.