A Transcendental Love

In Romance, Tragedy
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This is not your typical love story and I beg that you do not read this if you are overly sentimental or emotional, please!


While seated at her favourite spot, she looked up at his picture hanging on the wall, as a tear escaped her eye. This was her 70th birthday and 40th year of being without him. Another careless tear escaped her eye and came crashing onto her wrinkled palm.

She closed her eyes and reminisced on how they met; Mousa was sitting around a corner surrounded by his male friends when Bridget walked by. Bridget was a very pretty girl, with the most interesting feature about her being her eyes, they were a bit slanted and at the same time, alluring.

Mousa and his gang made catcalls but Bridget ignored them, till one idiot made a somewhat sexually offensive remark, Bridget stopped, turned and walked back to them, the guys, all of them froze, they never expected her to pay them attention plus the once alluring eyes were now terrifying, “Who made that remark just now?”, she asked.

Everyone went mute until the same guilty idiot pointed at Mousa in a bid to shirk off his responsibility, without confirming the idiot’s claim, Bridget went on a heavy tirade all targeted at Mousa who stared on with mouth agape before she turned and left leaving everyone especially Mousa astonished.

Thereafter Mousa had tried severally, days after days to apologize and explain but she never gave him a chance. Close to two weeks of trying to explain himself, with Mousa sometimes wondering why he bothered explaining, Bridget gave him a chance. After he was done explaining and apologizing, they struck up a chord, one which would lead to forever.

A happy smile played around Bridget’s old face as she remembered their adventures together and how he had finally proposed to her after several months of mutual silliness, but the smile quickly faded into a sad one as she recalled the night she lost him, it was her longest and dreariest night, she recalled the banging on the door and how the door had been forcefully broken down, after they had refused to open the door, to reveal 5 hefty men clad in black and wielding deadly weapons.

Just after these robbers had finished their operation and were ready to leave, a voice came blaring through a microphone, it was the local security, they had been most likely alerted by the neighbors who must have heard the door banging and breakage.

The voice wanted the robbers to surrender and come into the open where they could be seen but the robbers had other plans, a shootout ensued.

In the midst of this shootout, Mousa jumped on top of Bridget and used his body as a human shield, Bridget though terrified tried to get him off as she understood the consequences of his action but Mousa held fast and strong, he wouldn’t budge, Bridget calmed down and for a moment she savored the feeling of safety she felt with his body covering hers, his masculine smell encroached her nose but she felt some odd pleasure from the smell.

Suddenly Mousa jerked, the jerk brought Bridget back to reality, “Are you alright?”, she asked in a hushed tone but the only reply she got was another jerk and this jerk corresponded with a gunshot, that was the last gunshot before everything went quiet.

Bridget tried to get Mousa off of her but still, he wouldn’t budge, his hands were tightly clamped around her like a vice, something warm and sticky dripped onto Bridget’s cheek, she ran a finger through it and looked at her finger to discover the blood on it. At this point she didn’t care about the robbers nor the shooting, all she cared about was the fact that her husband was wounded and bleeding.

Amid her shouts and exasperation, the security agents slowly and carefully made their way into the house, out of the five robbers, two were dead, one was heavily injured and the remaining two were nowhere to be found, one of the security men was injured but not fatally. Two of the security men helped get Mousa off of Bridget who was still crying hysterically.

When they got to the hospital, Mousa was already cold and a few minutes later, he was pronounced dead by the doctor.

Bridget smiled again as another tear slid from her eye through her wrinkled cheek and this time around, landed on a picture which she had placed on her lap.

It was a picture of them together on their honeymoon, she remembered how they had seen a shooting star one night and they both agreed to make secret wishes, her face blushed as she recalled the wish she made, it was a silly and selfish wish which would never come to pass, she had wished to die before Mousa, she believed she would not be able to shoulder the pain and sorrow that would come if he ever left her.

After all these years she had refused to remarry, two years after Mousa’s demise the first suitor came, he was a bright young man with an ambitious future but Bridget turned him down, months after months he kept trying but with no luck before he gave up, eleven other suitors came but they all met the same fate, Bridget wanted no other man but her Mousa.

She always wanted to take her life so she could join him, but she could not bear to leave their barely two-year-old son behind, Mousa Jnr was born just seven months after the unfortunate event that claimed his father’s life, he would be forty this year, he already had a wife and kids.

Bridget thought she could leave now, their son was already the one taking care of her. Today being her birthday, she only had one wish and that was for death to come and carry her as quick as possible.

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