Love Is A Flame - Chapter 22/23
Title: Love Is A Flame
Author: Hotlen/Stonehouse
Summary:
It is the fall of 1944. Luke is a 19-year-old American soldier in France. Reid is a German doctor who is drafted by the Nazis to work in their POW camp. During a battle Luke gets injured and captured. Reid and Luke meet and a love story quickly follows, but this love must remain a secret under the watchful eyes of the SS. Think: “A Farewell To Arms” meets Lure and WW2.
Characters:
Luke (19), Reid (in his 30s), Katie (in her 20s), Noah, Casey and Kevin as other American soldiers. There are also SS, German soldiers, Nazi’s, and the Snyder family.
Rating: R for language and violence
Word Count: 1,511
WARNING:
EXTREME NOAH HATE, I mean Noah turns out to be the worst person on Earth in this story.
Previous Chapters: http://lure-atwt.livejournal.com/tag/%21author%7Cartist%3A%20hotlen
IMPORTANT:
Because many of you are wary about my stories I promise there’s a few twists, but a very Lure ending will be waiting for you.
Chapter 22.
I jump off the last stair of the train, taking in a deep breath of musty yet familiar Chicago air. The smell of fresh rain, new grass and manure fill my nostrils and it’s the best scent I’ve smelled in half a year. I hitch my duffle bag higher onto my shoulder, watching the crowds of service men run into the arms of their loved ones. They drop their packs on the platform and grab their wives and girlfriends, daring to kiss in public what normally they would keep in private.
I try to untangle myself from the hoards of people stopped right at the train door. I search for my father, not a tall man, but the tallest of our family.
“Luke!” I hear his familiar voice and my eyes fill with tears. Quickly I mirror everyone else and leave my duffle bag in the street as I run towards my family. My mother in her crisp white gloves and spring hat, my grandma as loving and comforting as ever. I see my siblings still recognizable but I swear have grown ten feet since last I saw them, and my father with his arms held open for me to fall into. I curl against his chest, holding on to his old brown corduroy coat that I used to wear as a kid when I wanted to play grown-up.
“I missed you all so much,” I mumble into my father’s shoulder. I feel hands around my back as my mother and grandma also wrap me in a hug. Ethan’s arms come around my legs and I can hear Natalie’s shrieks of joy through the muffled air around me.
“Come on sweetheart.” My grandma claps my back after I have exchanged hugs all around. “Let’s get you home, I cooked all your favorite foods!”
“Oh grandma, I haven’t had real food since the last time I ate a meal at the farm.”
“And you need to be fattened up!” She clasps her hands around my arm as my father lifts my duffle bag onto his shoulder. My mother has remained silent, but tears are flowing from her eyes, and Ethan and Natalie are dancing around my feet chirping about all the things I have missed on the farm while I was away at camp.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The farm looks the same, as if pulled off of a postcard marked home. The smell of budding maples and fresh cut grass fill the air until I walk into the kitchen and am hit by the smell of Grandma’s pot roast, mashed potatoes, and the peach pie she made for me with fresh peaches she canned last summer.
“Sit down, Luke dear, I’ll make you a plate.”
“I’ll take your stuff up to your room, we have it all ready for you!” Faith says.
“Luke did you bring me a present from camp?” Ethan asks, tugging on my jeans. I squatted down to face him, trying to think of anything I had with me from Germany. I was going to give Ethan the wooden toy horse that Noah had whittled for me for Christmas, but that now lays in dust on the abandoned streets of a liberated POW camp halfway around the world.
“Sorry buddy, I didn’t get you a present.”
“Phewy!” He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest and giving me a sad lower lip.
“Ethan, Luke’s home isn’t that present enough?” My dad scolds.
“Well now you have to make it up to me. You have to take me to see the new Mickey Mouse cartoon.”
“Anything, buddy,” I ruffle his hair and pull him into a tight hug that he wriggles away from.
“Luke your room’s all ready for you when you want to take a nap. I’m sure you’re exhausted from the train ride,” my mother says as she comes down the stairs.
“Sit, Luke,” Grandma nearly pulls me off the floor and sits me in a chair before handing me the biggest plate known to man filled five inches high with food. “And there’s dessert after that don’t forget! I want you to eat all of it you are much too skinny!”
“Yes, grandma,” I laugh, digging in. The most obscene moan escapes my throat as Grandma’s homemade cooking makes contact with my tongue. Everything I’d eaten in month’s taste of tin and metal. Her food was rich with spices and juicy, tender and scrumptious. I looked up from my plate to see my whole family staring at me expectantly.
“Um… could you maybe not stare?”
“Oh, of course Luke. I have to do some chores, kids why don’t you help me?”
“But dad…” they protest as my father drags them out of the farm.
“I’ll go put some of your things away,” my mother worries her hands before climbing back upstairs.
“So, Luke how are you really doing?” Grandma asks.
“Better now that I’m home. Can I tell you a secret, Grandma that you can’t tell anyone else?”
“Sure.”
“OK, well, when I was injured I didn’t go to any old hospital, I was captured and taken to a POW camp by the Nazis.”
“Oh, Luke,” she chortles, “You always had an imagination!”
“Grandma, I’m not joking. I’ve been in a POW camp since August.”
Grandma looks at me sternly before her eyes start to go wide, “Why didn’t you tell anyone!” She rushes to my side as if she can protect me now.
“I didn’t want to worry you all. Anyway it wasn’t that bad. They didn’t treat me meanly or anything,” I shrug, deciding that POW camp is one thing, and another to talk about the German I fell in love with who was then beaten and dragged to his death because of it.
“I’m glad you’re safe now, honey,” she kisses the top of my head and hugs my shoulders. “Now eat up or you’ll hurt my feelings!”
“Of course, Grandma, it’s delicious,” I say before shoveling another forkful into my mouth.
______________________________
Spring bloomed into a sweltering summer. The kids and I spent our days in the pond or at the theater. I watched the newsreels report stories from Germany. Watched as the true nature of the camps were revealed. I would cover the kids’ eyes from the horror depicted on screen and hope that Reid was not among the piles of tangled corpses.
The squelching summer cooled into a mild winter. Snow fell in heaps and I spent my days making snow angels and having snowball fights. My dad hitched the horses up to our sleigh and my family would spend hours sledding through snow-covered words laughing and singing Christmas carols. At night, with a large mug of cocoa in my hand, I’d sit by the warm fire and gaze out the window. On clear nights it seemed each start twinkled even brighter than before, glittering off the snow fields like crystals and I’d wonder if Reid were gazing in wonderment searching for me in the same sky. I’d sing softly to myself through the night, “Some day my prince will come, some day we’ll meet again.”
1946 brought more days, more time, more seasons without Reid. There were times I’d think he was never real. During those days I’d lie on my bed and pull my shirt up, run my fingers over the scar across my stomach, the only physical proof I have that Reid is real. He marked me with his signature, “Reid was here,” and I’d fall asleep dreaming of the days when his fingers would join mine and once again travel over the expanse of my skin.
Every night I light a candle in my window, hoping Reid will follow the flame home. For love is a flame beautiful and enchanting. Love starts with a spark then grows to a smoldering peace. Love can bring hope, like candles in a vigil. Love can bring serenity like campfires at Snyder Pond.
Like fire, love takes time for man to discover. Once discovered man cannot bear to think about functioning without it. Love is the fuel inside a man’s heart to will him to survive. The flame that licks at his soul urging him forward when steps seem too painful and the future too dim, love lights the way. Like water to fire, distance is loves enemy. If you pull something apart far enough, like a rubber band it will snap.
There are special cases when the element refuses to die, like magnesium, which burns even underwater, some love is stronger than the forces put against it. No matter how much time passes, if we are reunited or never again, my love burns brighter than the candle I light for him. It burns brighter than the sun. Like the rays beating down on me from millions of miles away, my love will find Reid no matter the distance. I hope it warms him like the torch I hold inside for him warms me. My love is a flame and the candle I light for him is his guiding light home to me.
_________________________________
Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires. -Francois de La Rochefoucauld
Yeah, I wanted the stuff with the Snyder’s to be longer but I have to post 2 chapters today and have so much stuff to do before the hospital tomorrow (at 5:30 am no less!) so this is what you get, ha!
Author: Hotlen/Stonehouse
Summary:
It is the fall of 1944. Luke is a 19-year-old American soldier in France. Reid is a German doctor who is drafted by the Nazis to work in their POW camp. During a battle Luke gets injured and captured. Reid and Luke meet and a love story quickly follows, but this love must remain a secret under the watchful eyes of the SS. Think: “A Farewell To Arms” meets Lure and WW2.
Characters:
Luke (19), Reid (in his 30s), Katie (in her 20s), Noah, Casey and Kevin as other American soldiers. There are also SS, German soldiers, Nazi’s, and the Snyder family.
Rating: R for language and violence
Word Count: 1,511
WARNING:
EXTREME NOAH HATE, I mean Noah turns out to be the worst person on Earth in this story.
Previous Chapters: http://lure-atwt.livejournal.com/tag/%21author%7Cartist%3A%20hotlen
IMPORTANT:
Because many of you are wary about my stories I promise there’s a few twists, but a very Lure ending will be waiting for you.
Chapter 22.
I jump off the last stair of the train, taking in a deep breath of musty yet familiar Chicago air. The smell of fresh rain, new grass and manure fill my nostrils and it’s the best scent I’ve smelled in half a year. I hitch my duffle bag higher onto my shoulder, watching the crowds of service men run into the arms of their loved ones. They drop their packs on the platform and grab their wives and girlfriends, daring to kiss in public what normally they would keep in private.
I try to untangle myself from the hoards of people stopped right at the train door. I search for my father, not a tall man, but the tallest of our family.
“Luke!” I hear his familiar voice and my eyes fill with tears. Quickly I mirror everyone else and leave my duffle bag in the street as I run towards my family. My mother in her crisp white gloves and spring hat, my grandma as loving and comforting as ever. I see my siblings still recognizable but I swear have grown ten feet since last I saw them, and my father with his arms held open for me to fall into. I curl against his chest, holding on to his old brown corduroy coat that I used to wear as a kid when I wanted to play grown-up.
“I missed you all so much,” I mumble into my father’s shoulder. I feel hands around my back as my mother and grandma also wrap me in a hug. Ethan’s arms come around my legs and I can hear Natalie’s shrieks of joy through the muffled air around me.
“Come on sweetheart.” My grandma claps my back after I have exchanged hugs all around. “Let’s get you home, I cooked all your favorite foods!”
“Oh grandma, I haven’t had real food since the last time I ate a meal at the farm.”
“And you need to be fattened up!” She clasps her hands around my arm as my father lifts my duffle bag onto his shoulder. My mother has remained silent, but tears are flowing from her eyes, and Ethan and Natalie are dancing around my feet chirping about all the things I have missed on the farm while I was away at camp.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The farm looks the same, as if pulled off of a postcard marked home. The smell of budding maples and fresh cut grass fill the air until I walk into the kitchen and am hit by the smell of Grandma’s pot roast, mashed potatoes, and the peach pie she made for me with fresh peaches she canned last summer.
“Sit down, Luke dear, I’ll make you a plate.”
“I’ll take your stuff up to your room, we have it all ready for you!” Faith says.
“Luke did you bring me a present from camp?” Ethan asks, tugging on my jeans. I squatted down to face him, trying to think of anything I had with me from Germany. I was going to give Ethan the wooden toy horse that Noah had whittled for me for Christmas, but that now lays in dust on the abandoned streets of a liberated POW camp halfway around the world.
“Sorry buddy, I didn’t get you a present.”
“Phewy!” He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest and giving me a sad lower lip.
“Ethan, Luke’s home isn’t that present enough?” My dad scolds.
“Well now you have to make it up to me. You have to take me to see the new Mickey Mouse cartoon.”
“Anything, buddy,” I ruffle his hair and pull him into a tight hug that he wriggles away from.
“Luke your room’s all ready for you when you want to take a nap. I’m sure you’re exhausted from the train ride,” my mother says as she comes down the stairs.
“Sit, Luke,” Grandma nearly pulls me off the floor and sits me in a chair before handing me the biggest plate known to man filled five inches high with food. “And there’s dessert after that don’t forget! I want you to eat all of it you are much too skinny!”
“Yes, grandma,” I laugh, digging in. The most obscene moan escapes my throat as Grandma’s homemade cooking makes contact with my tongue. Everything I’d eaten in month’s taste of tin and metal. Her food was rich with spices and juicy, tender and scrumptious. I looked up from my plate to see my whole family staring at me expectantly.
“Um… could you maybe not stare?”
“Oh, of course Luke. I have to do some chores, kids why don’t you help me?”
“But dad…” they protest as my father drags them out of the farm.
“I’ll go put some of your things away,” my mother worries her hands before climbing back upstairs.
“So, Luke how are you really doing?” Grandma asks.
“Better now that I’m home. Can I tell you a secret, Grandma that you can’t tell anyone else?”
“Sure.”
“OK, well, when I was injured I didn’t go to any old hospital, I was captured and taken to a POW camp by the Nazis.”
“Oh, Luke,” she chortles, “You always had an imagination!”
“Grandma, I’m not joking. I’ve been in a POW camp since August.”
Grandma looks at me sternly before her eyes start to go wide, “Why didn’t you tell anyone!” She rushes to my side as if she can protect me now.
“I didn’t want to worry you all. Anyway it wasn’t that bad. They didn’t treat me meanly or anything,” I shrug, deciding that POW camp is one thing, and another to talk about the German I fell in love with who was then beaten and dragged to his death because of it.
“I’m glad you’re safe now, honey,” she kisses the top of my head and hugs my shoulders. “Now eat up or you’ll hurt my feelings!”
“Of course, Grandma, it’s delicious,” I say before shoveling another forkful into my mouth.
______________________________
Spring bloomed into a sweltering summer. The kids and I spent our days in the pond or at the theater. I watched the newsreels report stories from Germany. Watched as the true nature of the camps were revealed. I would cover the kids’ eyes from the horror depicted on screen and hope that Reid was not among the piles of tangled corpses.
The squelching summer cooled into a mild winter. Snow fell in heaps and I spent my days making snow angels and having snowball fights. My dad hitched the horses up to our sleigh and my family would spend hours sledding through snow-covered words laughing and singing Christmas carols. At night, with a large mug of cocoa in my hand, I’d sit by the warm fire and gaze out the window. On clear nights it seemed each start twinkled even brighter than before, glittering off the snow fields like crystals and I’d wonder if Reid were gazing in wonderment searching for me in the same sky. I’d sing softly to myself through the night, “Some day my prince will come, some day we’ll meet again.”
1946 brought more days, more time, more seasons without Reid. There were times I’d think he was never real. During those days I’d lie on my bed and pull my shirt up, run my fingers over the scar across my stomach, the only physical proof I have that Reid is real. He marked me with his signature, “Reid was here,” and I’d fall asleep dreaming of the days when his fingers would join mine and once again travel over the expanse of my skin.
Every night I light a candle in my window, hoping Reid will follow the flame home. For love is a flame beautiful and enchanting. Love starts with a spark then grows to a smoldering peace. Love can bring hope, like candles in a vigil. Love can bring serenity like campfires at Snyder Pond.
Like fire, love takes time for man to discover. Once discovered man cannot bear to think about functioning without it. Love is the fuel inside a man’s heart to will him to survive. The flame that licks at his soul urging him forward when steps seem too painful and the future too dim, love lights the way. Like water to fire, distance is loves enemy. If you pull something apart far enough, like a rubber band it will snap.
There are special cases when the element refuses to die, like magnesium, which burns even underwater, some love is stronger than the forces put against it. No matter how much time passes, if we are reunited or never again, my love burns brighter than the candle I light for him. It burns brighter than the sun. Like the rays beating down on me from millions of miles away, my love will find Reid no matter the distance. I hope it warms him like the torch I hold inside for him warms me. My love is a flame and the candle I light for him is his guiding light home to me.
_________________________________
Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires. -Francois de La Rochefoucauld
Yeah, I wanted the stuff with the Snyder’s to be longer but I have to post 2 chapters today and have so much stuff to do before the hospital tomorrow (at 5:30 am no less!) so this is what you get, ha!