Tatyana R. Sep 28th
Happy Birthday my beloved Aleksey, I am so happy that this day eventually came –since, do you remember, the day so long ago that we were pronounced husband and wife- yet I am also saddened with the fact that you are away and not here beside me. Your mother insisted that I erase you from my heart completely ever since The Tsar declared that the men who ventured into Khiva some time ago were massacred by the Khan, but I couldn’t bring myself to forget about you and those days we spent together so joyously. I started this journal around the time you left for Khiva to read it to you when you would return to me, eventually, and to inform you of my very thoughts whilst you were gone; which mostly were of you and I knew you would find this very amusing. I say mostly because if I do dream of you, desire you and fill my mind with you every second of the day; it would be so hard for me to accept the harsh fact when it does come. And it came. You promised me with all your heart that you would never leave me, that however selfish I would become; you would accept it, that is the vow you took. Now I have become that ignoble woman and hopefully, if you are living –which I am certain you are- you would still breathe for me.
It has not been so long since Napoleon Bounaparte and his men of 400,000 marched through Vilnius for the purpose of invading our country. What a fool! What did he expect, that Our Tsar Alexander was as foolish as he? The whole world was in favour of Bounaparte and his men and as they enjoyed the publicity, we had already followed orders from The Tsar to burn Moscow; He planned to burn Moscow so that when Bounaparte and his French troops did arrive, they would have no food nor supplies to survive the upcoming Russian winter. And the plan worked brilliantly. As I watched Moscow being reduced to ashes, the guerilla bands were secretly watching the entrance for signs of Bounaparte, and the Cossacks prepared to catch the troops in surprise, their minds thirsting to afflict pain on the French. It seemed so easy, really, the troops were continuously attacked by our Cossacks and guerillas but we also had Mother Nature as our ally; most of the soldiers were already dying of frostbite, starvation and diseases as they reached Moscow. Eventually, the French troops gave themselves up to us, defeated and dying, we gave them the Russian hospitality by tormenting them endlessly although there were very few who escaped the cruel fate inflicted upon them. The Tsar organized this special event for everyone; peasants, women, children and I believe even our animals saw it as quite an entertaining spectacle; many of Bounaparte’s men were arranged into a line, stripped of their clothing, presented with the anticipation of their own deaths as they watched their comrades screech in excruciating pain and agony. The rest of his men were imprisoned and were presented to the soldiers so that they too could enjoy themselves, although I do not know exactly what happened within those walls I can well imagine, I heard that they were buried alive, defenselessly. We might sound like barbarians but the French troops deserved it, especially Bounaparte; though he retreated and was instead exiled on Saint Helena.
My beloved, as I witnessed the mass-slaughter, I could not help but feel vengeful and in spite of the atrocious events which happened before my eyes, I was quite content with the killing of those French men. I felt that this was my vengeance, finally played out especially for you. I miss you so deeply; I still vividly remember the September I first met you and your sister, Irena –who also misses you greatly and who is now married to one of your childhood friends, Roman. They have two children, and how envious am I of them, I still dream of the day I could finally have a child with you. Do you remember that extremely chilly day in November, when we met near Lake Glubokoe? We sat next to each other and talked so much of current affairs, it felt like time had stopped and left us alone, surrounded by an infinite desert of beautiful white snow. I did not even feel the chill air against my skin because I had you by my side; I had always hated winter before I found you. The snow seemed ravishing and rather delicate, it felt quite rich against my skin when you were with me but since you have left, the once beautiful snow now saddens me so.
Aleksey, if you are alive please return to me… Our Tsar Alexander is currently playing a very dangerous game with the rest of the world. I do not understand what he has found so desirable that he would risk our precious country for, I am sure whatever it is it must be incredibly important; this must also be what Bounaparte so desperately sought.
It has not been so long since Napoleon Bounaparte and his men of 400,000 marched through Vilnius for the purpose of invading our country. What a fool! What did he expect, that Our Tsar Alexander was as foolish as he? The whole world was in favour of Bounaparte and his men and as they enjoyed the publicity, we had already followed orders from The Tsar to burn Moscow; He planned to burn Moscow so that when Bounaparte and his French troops did arrive, they would have no food nor supplies to survive the upcoming Russian winter. And the plan worked brilliantly. As I watched Moscow being reduced to ashes, the guerilla bands were secretly watching the entrance for signs of Bounaparte, and the Cossacks prepared to catch the troops in surprise, their minds thirsting to afflict pain on the French. It seemed so easy, really, the troops were continuously attacked by our Cossacks and guerillas but we also had Mother Nature as our ally; most of the soldiers were already dying of frostbite, starvation and diseases as they reached Moscow. Eventually, the French troops gave themselves up to us, defeated and dying, we gave them the Russian hospitality by tormenting them endlessly although there were very few who escaped the cruel fate inflicted upon them. The Tsar organized this special event for everyone; peasants, women, children and I believe even our animals saw it as quite an entertaining spectacle; many of Bounaparte’s men were arranged into a line, stripped of their clothing, presented with the anticipation of their own deaths as they watched their comrades screech in excruciating pain and agony. The rest of his men were imprisoned and were presented to the soldiers so that they too could enjoy themselves, although I do not know exactly what happened within those walls I can well imagine, I heard that they were buried alive, defenselessly. We might sound like barbarians but the French troops deserved it, especially Bounaparte; though he retreated and was instead exiled on Saint Helena.
My beloved, as I witnessed the mass-slaughter, I could not help but feel vengeful and in spite of the atrocious events which happened before my eyes, I was quite content with the killing of those French men. I felt that this was my vengeance, finally played out especially for you. I miss you so deeply; I still vividly remember the September I first met you and your sister, Irena –who also misses you greatly and who is now married to one of your childhood friends, Roman. They have two children, and how envious am I of them, I still dream of the day I could finally have a child with you. Do you remember that extremely chilly day in November, when we met near Lake Glubokoe? We sat next to each other and talked so much of current affairs, it felt like time had stopped and left us alone, surrounded by an infinite desert of beautiful white snow. I did not even feel the chill air against my skin because I had you by my side; I had always hated winter before I found you. The snow seemed ravishing and rather delicate, it felt quite rich against my skin when you were with me but since you have left, the once beautiful snow now saddens me so.
Aleksey, if you are alive please return to me… Our Tsar Alexander is currently playing a very dangerous game with the rest of the world. I do not understand what he has found so desirable that he would risk our precious country for, I am sure whatever it is it must be incredibly important; this must also be what Bounaparte so desperately sought.
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