Forget Me Not

I snuck over to the blog of the lovely Hilda, and stumbled upon her recent post, where she shared a short story she wrote. I thought it was really awesome, so I asked her if I could share it on my blog as well. She's given me permission, so here you go.

*NOTE: This story belongs to Hilda. Please do not steal this story or any of the things contained within it without Hilda's permission. I'm sure she worked really hard on it! (:

FORGET ME NOT
by Hilda Leticia Dominguez

     The story was found, many centuries ago, from a young maiden’s journal.  Her name

was Anora.  She came from a noble family, but since she met an infamous warrior named

Baron, her parents disowned her after their reputation was shattered.

     Anora was sixteen when she met him.  She was with her sisters, picking wild flowers

and Daisies from the field, when a charming man rode up to them in pain.  They took him

in and bandaged his wounds until he was well again. 

     Anora’s father approached the young man and asked, “What is your name, sir?”

     “I am Baron.”

     “Are you a soldier?  Who do you work for?” questioned Anora’s father.

     “I’m a warrior.  I travel all over the country, seeking work.”

     “You may wish to stay, if you wish for a job, but here you will work as a laborer in my

fields.”

     Baron glanced at the lovely maiden, Anora, behind her father’s shoulder and smiled. 

“I accept.”

     Months passed by and Baron became beloved among Anora and her family that they

began to see him more than a laborer.  Anora’s father treated Baron as if he was a son of

his own, until Baron confessed his affections toward Anora.  Anora’s father was pleased

that he insisted he marry his daughter.  Anora was very timid, but she too confessed her

feelings toward Baron to her mother.  Her mother had also insisted she marry him, for in

her eyes, Baron was a remarkable and fine man.

     The wedding was held at their nearby church, and the celebration lasted only two days,

for the town’s bells rang of a war approaching.  Most men took up arms and Baron was

called to duty.  After he placed his armor over his body and prepared his faithful steed, he

went up to his beloved wife and kissed her goodbye.  She wept for fear she would never

see him again. 

     He gave her a flower from the fields he worked on with her father, and whispered into

her ear, “Forget me not, my love.  I shall return for you.”

     She smiled and clutched onto the Forget-me-not flower close to her heart.  She pain-

fully watched him climb up onto the saddle and ride away to the nearest road.  But she

kept hope that her husband will return alive and well some day.

     Unfortunately, one day, Anora’s father returned home from the tavern in an outrage

and grabbed Anora’s arms with rage.  “How could you?”

     “What is it, father?” she cried, in shock.

     “Why did you not tell me that your husband is a traitor?”

     Anora could not believe her ears.  “A traitor?!  That cannot be true!”

     “Because of him, no one will buy our produce.  He has spread vicious lies about us! 

He ruined our reputation!”

     “But he couldn’t have!  Besides, he is at war, fighting for the safety of our village.”

     “He lied!” shouted her father.  “He works for the emperor of the north!”

     Anora was in denial.  How could her husband lie to her and her family?  How could he

work for the Emperor, who is an evil man to the entire country?  It was until one evening

when Anora realized it to be true when a woman holding a young child approached her in

anger.

     “You!  You took my husband away from his family!”

     Anora did not know that Baron was married before her.  She was humiliated and disre-

spected that she was driven away and never heard from again.  All that was left from her

was a forget-me-not flower, which she had tossed away in tears.  At last, the last news

about her was found many years later.  Her body was never found, but her journal was

found under an apple tree in another country by a farmer.  It was traced back to her fami-

ly, but her family refused to accept anything about her.  Her village also refused anything

to do with her, but people from other countries were impressed by her journal that it be-

came published and a favorite among scholars.