Two
Once the letter was dispatched
Manfred von Richthofen set out to Italy from Barcelona. It was a long
journey, once reaching south of Spain on horseback he would abandon
Hispania and head on ship to the Mediterranean shores. His thoughts were
dancing between Esmeralda and future imagined glories in the Italian shores. And so
he began to compare himself to the history figures from ancient times.
On his travel south he encountered a statue of Alexander the Great. He
stopped to admire it, and in deep meditation for some minutes broke down
and wept.
A strong nostalgia came over him, a desire
for the ancient heroes to be alive. A terrible shame gripped him, he
didn't amount to nothing worthy of his name. At 23 Alexander the Great
was conquering the known world, he was a miserable dandy who had
squandered his inherited fortune. The memory of the shameful venture
with Esmeralda now haunted him. He now realized that in his poetic
stupidity he viewed her power over him as something to be admired.
"Love?
What is love!? Is love not the surrender of ones entire focus into one
person? How could you, Megalexandros, ever find "true love" in the arms
of a woman? Nay! Power was your mistress! You worked too hard to conquer
her, and you wouldn't be so vulgar to let her go!"
He
gave a sigh, for he knew that his ambition began and ended in capturing Esmeralda's heart. The youthful fool! He had the intellect to know such,
and was now beginning to realize the repulsive position he was in but it
was futile to fight against his desires for the simple country girl.
This was the 19th century was it not? He was a product of the Romantic
movement, and it was in his blood to be ready to build and burn another
Troy for a beautiful face. Disgust entered his thoughts: "A women should
at best soften a man, not weaken him whole!"
Richthofen
was sick with the fullness of his luxurious life. Comfort now was a sin as he
marveled at the statue of Megalexandros. He spoke thus:
"I've
been waiting all my life, for what? And if opportunity were to arrive
years to come, will all this waiting have atrophied the legs of my soul?
Would I be able to stand and with vigor move onwards? Or will I
collapse, spirit-broken and shout to the heavens 'It's to late! My life
is in vain! I lack the will to move on...' and acknowledge my life was
not worth preserving?"
The gods of love and war were fighting over to gain his control, the god of chaos gained their spoils.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Chapter One
One
Our story begins with a letter, the center point that divides our story in two. For this is where the hero abandons the naive ideals of youth, and the aspiration for domestic peace. Cynicism, nihilism and moral pragmatism are now the poetry of his heart. For long life, his career, reputation... none worth anything to him once his beloved declared to loved him not. With a death wish he embarks to Italy, hoping to lose the memory of Esmeralda from his soul... for he wasn't willing to let it go on his own.
My dearest Esmeralda
You write to me expressing the vulgar lies from our acquaintances? I guarantee you no "vulgar lie" was told concerning my weeping at your departure. I'm made of flesh you know, regardless of how much you've boasted there to be iron in me chest. If this is insufficient to prove my feelings to you, then I have no other proof to offer.
Heaven knows I wish you happiness, despite it being away from my arms. Perhaps one day you shall acknowledge the truth of what I again promise and vow, that no other shall ever hold the place in my affection which is and shall be a most sacred altar to you, till I'm nothing.
I never knew till I met you, the madness off... I cannot speak, this is no time for words, my dear and beloved girl! I cannot express myself... But I still have a pride, a melancholy pleasure! I suffer of that which you thought me hardly capable of... You know me not.
It is indeed true I am leaving Spain, no, not for my home country of England, I can say so much. As to my true destination I shall keep it to myself.
Last time we met you seemed heartbroken towards the affection I held towards you, you asked me to "promise not to love you", Ah Esmeralda, it is past promising, but I shall view your petitions for the proper motive, for I know deep down you're pure kindness and you suffer when you witness others suffer. But I shall never cease to feel that which you have already witnessed, and more, that can only be known but to my own heart. May God protect, forgive and bless you, ever and even more than ever.
Until I fall, my love ever belongs to you.
Your most attached
-Richthofen.
Our story begins with a letter, the center point that divides our story in two. For this is where the hero abandons the naive ideals of youth, and the aspiration for domestic peace. Cynicism, nihilism and moral pragmatism are now the poetry of his heart. For long life, his career, reputation... none worth anything to him once his beloved declared to loved him not. With a death wish he embarks to Italy, hoping to lose the memory of Esmeralda from his soul... for he wasn't willing to let it go on his own.
March 11 of 1805
My dearest Esmeralda
You write to me expressing the vulgar lies from our acquaintances? I guarantee you no "vulgar lie" was told concerning my weeping at your departure. I'm made of flesh you know, regardless of how much you've boasted there to be iron in me chest. If this is insufficient to prove my feelings to you, then I have no other proof to offer.
Heaven knows I wish you happiness, despite it being away from my arms. Perhaps one day you shall acknowledge the truth of what I again promise and vow, that no other shall ever hold the place in my affection which is and shall be a most sacred altar to you, till I'm nothing.
I never knew till I met you, the madness off... I cannot speak, this is no time for words, my dear and beloved girl! I cannot express myself... But I still have a pride, a melancholy pleasure! I suffer of that which you thought me hardly capable of... You know me not.
It is indeed true I am leaving Spain, no, not for my home country of England, I can say so much. As to my true destination I shall keep it to myself.
Last time we met you seemed heartbroken towards the affection I held towards you, you asked me to "promise not to love you", Ah Esmeralda, it is past promising, but I shall view your petitions for the proper motive, for I know deep down you're pure kindness and you suffer when you witness others suffer. But I shall never cease to feel that which you have already witnessed, and more, that can only be known but to my own heart. May God protect, forgive and bless you, ever and even more than ever.
Until I fall, my love ever belongs to you.
Your most attached
-Richthofen.
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