The young girl, though her eyes were closed, lay wide awake beneath her covers. Either side of her, her older sisters slept peacefully, small smiles on spread across their lips. The young girl, Carole, guessed their sleeping happiness had something to do with the music playing softly from the sterio in the corner of the room, and the beautiful, melodic singing. As she rolled onto her back, Carole squeezed her eyes momentarily before relaxing her lids again, all the while listening to the voice singing. The question that always plagued her mind whenever she listened to this tape, who was the singer? The Christmas angel, her sisters called her. But who was she? Who is the Christmas angel?
He sighed as he stood in the doorway of his daughters' room knowing his youngest had not yet drifted off. As quietly as he could manage, he tiptoed over to Carole's bed and sat down on it's edge. "Carole," he said in a whisper. "Sweetie, you're supposed to be asleep!"
"I can't get to sleep Daddy," said Carole, looking at him before slowly averting her eyes a few moments later. "Daddy, who's that?"
"Who Carole?"
"The lady singing Daddy," said Carole, "who is she?"
Carole's father is silent for a while before he says anything. "The lady singing is your mother, Carole," he said, his voice extremely quietly.
"My mummy?" Carole asked breathlessly.
"Yes."
As she melted into the pillows, her father lightly stroked her hair with the tips of his fingers.
Carole couldn't stop the smile spreading over her lips as the next song started to play. For some reason, this Christmas carol had always been her favourite, for as long as she could remember.
"Your mother used to sing this to get you to go to sleep," he said, and Carole jumped involuntarily at the sound of his voice, having not realised he was still there.
"Really?" She asked, and he nodded.
As the song went on, Carole quickly seemed to drift off to sleep, giving her father the chance to creep quietly from the room. He paused momentarily in the doorway, smiling at the sound of his wife's voice. "Merry Christmas, Angela," he said in a whisper. "Sing our girls to sleep, just like you do every year."
When he made to move he just didn't seem able. The memories came back in a wave. He remembered how much she had loved their daughters. How happy they'd been when Carole had been born, and how sad when they learnt she wouldn't be there for it all. He remembered her ingenious idea of recording a tape of Christmas carols, for the girls to remember their mother by. His smile widened as he realised how thankful he was she'd done that.
"Thank you Angela," he said in a whisper. "For preserving yourself as a Christmas Angel."
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Merry Christmas everyone! As usual, I'll be taking a short break from posting online over the holidays. See you all on the 7th!
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Mini Me's
Fondly, Iris stared up at the row of porcelain dolls, lined neatly, motionlessly on the shelf. As she backed ibno her rocking chair, the images of the porcelain dolls filled her head as she dozed off.
The pale faced girl with ringlets the colour of chocolate and an eggplant coloured bonnet smiled graciously as she bent low before gracefully sitting on the ground. She looked around her, smiling at the sounds of laughter that filled the air. The sight of children running around, playing and the beautiful, clear blue sky overhead with the sun shining it's rays down on the world.
Iris smiled in her sleep, shivering with pleasure. Even though she was in her dark living room, it felt as if the sun were beating down right above where she sat, warming her too.
Daintily, the young girl rose to her feet and approached the other children, her skirts rustling as they brushed the ground where she walked. After a little chat, she began to skip happily along with a group of girls who were adorned in the same heavy skirts as she.
Iris's eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she laid eyes on was a porcelain doll that was almost identical to the young girl in her dream. Who was the girl from her dream. Slowly, she tottled over to the shelf, shakily climbed a step and cautiusly took the doll into her arms, smiling fondly at her as if she could see. "Hi Iris," she said. "I always knew it would be great to have a mini me. My family and closest friends, immortalised forever, looking exactly like we did in our youth."
As Iris returned her doll self to the shelf, she scanned the rest of the dolls on the shelf, her eyes lingering for a minute or so as she recalled a memory associated with the loved one who the doll resembled.
She stopped as she came to the last doll, a baby, which she took from the shelf and cradled in her arms. She looked down at it's snow pale face, lightly touching a finger to it's cool surface before tracing an invisible line up the doll's face as he finger brushed the edge of the baby doll's fringe. "Baby Jane," she said softly, "the only doll anyone was named after in place of named for."
The doll still in her arms, Iris glanced at a nearby framed picture of her daughter, beautiful and glowing with life. she touched a finger to her lips then pressed it ever so lightly to the doll's forehead before returning her to the shelf with the other dolls and backtracking to look at them all, the smile on her lips spreading wide.
"There you all are," she said, "right there forever. Watching over me."
The pale faced girl with ringlets the colour of chocolate and an eggplant coloured bonnet smiled graciously as she bent low before gracefully sitting on the ground. She looked around her, smiling at the sounds of laughter that filled the air. The sight of children running around, playing and the beautiful, clear blue sky overhead with the sun shining it's rays down on the world.
Iris smiled in her sleep, shivering with pleasure. Even though she was in her dark living room, it felt as if the sun were beating down right above where she sat, warming her too.
Daintily, the young girl rose to her feet and approached the other children, her skirts rustling as they brushed the ground where she walked. After a little chat, she began to skip happily along with a group of girls who were adorned in the same heavy skirts as she.
Iris's eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she laid eyes on was a porcelain doll that was almost identical to the young girl in her dream. Who was the girl from her dream. Slowly, she tottled over to the shelf, shakily climbed a step and cautiusly took the doll into her arms, smiling fondly at her as if she could see. "Hi Iris," she said. "I always knew it would be great to have a mini me. My family and closest friends, immortalised forever, looking exactly like we did in our youth."
As Iris returned her doll self to the shelf, she scanned the rest of the dolls on the shelf, her eyes lingering for a minute or so as she recalled a memory associated with the loved one who the doll resembled.
She stopped as she came to the last doll, a baby, which she took from the shelf and cradled in her arms. She looked down at it's snow pale face, lightly touching a finger to it's cool surface before tracing an invisible line up the doll's face as he finger brushed the edge of the baby doll's fringe. "Baby Jane," she said softly, "the only doll anyone was named after in place of named for."
The doll still in her arms, Iris glanced at a nearby framed picture of her daughter, beautiful and glowing with life. she touched a finger to her lips then pressed it ever so lightly to the doll's forehead before returning her to the shelf with the other dolls and backtracking to look at them all, the smile on her lips spreading wide.
"There you all are," she said, "right there forever. Watching over me."
Monday, December 15, 2014
This Moment
No matter how many times he'd wipe it, his face would become wet almost as soon as he took the tissue away. He slowly looked up at the feeling of a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Dom," said the girl with the kind smile. "Why the tears?"
She sat down beside him, her hand having migrated to his knee as the story came flooding out.
"I don't know what I'm going to do Kelly," he said, his eyes still glistening with moisture as he held her gaze. "I..."
The way she gave his knee a gentle pat silenced him at once.
"Dom, is this happening right now?"
His head fell a little as he shook it.
"So why don't you be here with me?" she asked, reaching for his hand and giving it a light squeeze,
"Be here with me now," she said as he hesitated.
"Kelly, I can't... how am I going to do this?" Kelly waited patiently as he went on. "Dom, that's all in the future, am I right?" Again, he nodded, helplessly. "All we have is this moment. Have you ever thought about how you'd feel if you realised you missed out on something because you were to busy worrying about what's to come?"
"No," he admitted in a tear stained voice.
"Baby," she said, still trying for his attention as she twisted and turned her head in an attempt to meet his eyes once more. "don't blink and miss this moment. Be here with me." She waited as slowly, he re-met her gaze.
"Have you ever thought about how you'd feel if you missed out on something?" she asked again.
"I never thought about it..." he said in an echo. "But what am I going to do?" he asked after a while.
She got up, not sure what else to do. Wondering whether she'd ever get through to him. "Maybe one day you will find that you just can't push rewind." she said as she wandered away. "Tomorrow's unspoken."
Kelly was quite surprised when weeks later, she ran into Dom. "Hi Kelly," he said, offering her a small smile. At once, her mind froze and her eyes involuntarily grew wide.
"Look Dom," Kelly said. "There's only so long you can be patient. I'm not interested anymore."
"Kelly wait, please," he said, managing to lightly brush her arm with his fingertips as she made to get away. She quickly turned around, her stare harsh as she folded her arms across her chest.
"I'm ready to be here with you," he said, the pleading clear in his tone. "It took me a while to listen to what you said, but it really helped. Thank you."
"I'm glad you've learnt to revel in the moment Dom," she said sincerely, taking a step forward.
"Kelly, I realise this may be a lot to ask, but..."
"Just get it out, please," she said, at least, not moving.
"Be in the moment with me," he said. "Will you give me a second chance? Can we start fresh?"
The wait was agonising as he awaited her response. "Well, I suppose." she said, and a smile cracked his lips. "For the sake of the moment."
"Dom," said the girl with the kind smile. "Why the tears?"
She sat down beside him, her hand having migrated to his knee as the story came flooding out.
"I don't know what I'm going to do Kelly," he said, his eyes still glistening with moisture as he held her gaze. "I..."
The way she gave his knee a gentle pat silenced him at once.
"Dom, is this happening right now?"
His head fell a little as he shook it.
"So why don't you be here with me?" she asked, reaching for his hand and giving it a light squeeze,
"Be here with me now," she said as he hesitated.
"Kelly, I can't... how am I going to do this?" Kelly waited patiently as he went on. "Dom, that's all in the future, am I right?" Again, he nodded, helplessly. "All we have is this moment. Have you ever thought about how you'd feel if you realised you missed out on something because you were to busy worrying about what's to come?"
"No," he admitted in a tear stained voice.
"Baby," she said, still trying for his attention as she twisted and turned her head in an attempt to meet his eyes once more. "don't blink and miss this moment. Be here with me." She waited as slowly, he re-met her gaze.
"Have you ever thought about how you'd feel if you missed out on something?" she asked again.
"I never thought about it..." he said in an echo. "But what am I going to do?" he asked after a while.
She got up, not sure what else to do. Wondering whether she'd ever get through to him. "Maybe one day you will find that you just can't push rewind." she said as she wandered away. "Tomorrow's unspoken."
Kelly was quite surprised when weeks later, she ran into Dom. "Hi Kelly," he said, offering her a small smile. At once, her mind froze and her eyes involuntarily grew wide.
"Look Dom," Kelly said. "There's only so long you can be patient. I'm not interested anymore."
"Kelly wait, please," he said, managing to lightly brush her arm with his fingertips as she made to get away. She quickly turned around, her stare harsh as she folded her arms across her chest.
"I'm ready to be here with you," he said, the pleading clear in his tone. "It took me a while to listen to what you said, but it really helped. Thank you."
"I'm glad you've learnt to revel in the moment Dom," she said sincerely, taking a step forward.
"Kelly, I realise this may be a lot to ask, but..."
"Just get it out, please," she said, at least, not moving.
"Be in the moment with me," he said. "Will you give me a second chance? Can we start fresh?"
The wait was agonising as he awaited her response. "Well, I suppose." she said, and a smile cracked his lips. "For the sake of the moment."
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
If You Can Afford Me
She squatted down before him, seeing clearly the hunger in his eyes. "Hi sugar," she said, smiling sweetly. "Do you want somethin'?" Unable to take his eyes from her, the smart clad blindly reached into his pocket, producing a few notes, which he then set down at her feet. Her smile grew wider. "Alright then!" she said, effortlessly jumping from the platform into his lap with a light thud. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and his eyes lustfully met hers. "Now we're talkin'!" She leaned forward, kssing him square on the mouth before swiftly leaning back, lifting her legs and easily jumped back up onto her feet, her heels click clacking as she wandered away.
"Hey!" called the confused man after her, waving another note in the deal. "There's more where that came from!"
She paused ,waving a hand lazily in the air. "Sorry Darlin'," she said. "I might be back, but for now, enjoy the show." She smiled as she looked back to see one of her colleagues had taken her place on the man's lap.
She was immediately drawn to a cute, bewildered looking guy in a classy looking long sleeved shirt and jean ensemble. She pushed another of her cooleagues out of the way, her eyes locked on him. "I'll take this one," she said.
"How about it Sweetie?" she asked, batting her lashes as she stood still in front of him, allowing him to take her in. Usually, a guy was overcome with desire, but this one surprised her. His expression remained the same. "It's his first time love," said the guy beside him, slapping a few notes into her palm. "Go easy on him." She nodded, snatching the money before he could change his mind.
"Hi," she said, turning her attention back to cute guy. She sat on his lap, trying every trick she knew, every trick in the book, to not a single response. She looked to see his friends all preoccupied by some of her colleagues. The tricks worked on them. She leaned closer, batting her lashes in an attempt to mask her desperation.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Ooh," she said flirtatiously. "He speaks."
"What's your name?" he asked again, calmly, although she could sense his patience may soon wear thin.
"I...I'm Lauren," she said, letting out a breath as her shoulders slumped.
"Well Lauren, I know that you do this sort of stuff for money..."
"That's generally the point, yes."
"But, I.. I don't know. It seems superficial." At her frown, he kept talking. "You're a beautiful girl."
"If you want something, just name your price."
"Can't I just talk to you? You seem like a nice girl. One who deserves to be treated well."
"Thank you," she said, finally smiling.
"So what do you say we get out of here?"
"I suppose.." she said uncertainly. "But you pay the bill, cause that's the deal." She moved to sit on the edge of the platform in front of him.
"If that's the way it has to be," he said, rising to his feet and smoothing his clothes before offering his hand. She slips it easily into his, smiling as she jumps down.
"Lauren," he said, holding her gaze. "What do you say I take you out?"
"I never even.. thought of that before." she said honestly.
He shakes his head. "I thought so."
"Well, if you can afford me." she said. "Cause, the owners, they might make you pay."
"Whatever," he said with a smile, leading her to the door.
"Hey!" called the confused man after her, waving another note in the deal. "There's more where that came from!"
She paused ,waving a hand lazily in the air. "Sorry Darlin'," she said. "I might be back, but for now, enjoy the show." She smiled as she looked back to see one of her colleagues had taken her place on the man's lap.
She was immediately drawn to a cute, bewildered looking guy in a classy looking long sleeved shirt and jean ensemble. She pushed another of her cooleagues out of the way, her eyes locked on him. "I'll take this one," she said.
"How about it Sweetie?" she asked, batting her lashes as she stood still in front of him, allowing him to take her in. Usually, a guy was overcome with desire, but this one surprised her. His expression remained the same. "It's his first time love," said the guy beside him, slapping a few notes into her palm. "Go easy on him." She nodded, snatching the money before he could change his mind.
"Hi," she said, turning her attention back to cute guy. She sat on his lap, trying every trick she knew, every trick in the book, to not a single response. She looked to see his friends all preoccupied by some of her colleagues. The tricks worked on them. She leaned closer, batting her lashes in an attempt to mask her desperation.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Ooh," she said flirtatiously. "He speaks."
"What's your name?" he asked again, calmly, although she could sense his patience may soon wear thin.
"I...I'm Lauren," she said, letting out a breath as her shoulders slumped.
"Well Lauren, I know that you do this sort of stuff for money..."
"That's generally the point, yes."
"But, I.. I don't know. It seems superficial." At her frown, he kept talking. "You're a beautiful girl."
"If you want something, just name your price."
"Can't I just talk to you? You seem like a nice girl. One who deserves to be treated well."
"Thank you," she said, finally smiling.
"So what do you say we get out of here?"
"I suppose.." she said uncertainly. "But you pay the bill, cause that's the deal." She moved to sit on the edge of the platform in front of him.
"If that's the way it has to be," he said, rising to his feet and smoothing his clothes before offering his hand. She slips it easily into his, smiling as she jumps down.
"Lauren," he said, holding her gaze. "What do you say I take you out?"
"I never even.. thought of that before." she said honestly.
He shakes his head. "I thought so."
"Well, if you can afford me." she said. "Cause, the owners, they might make you pay."
"Whatever," he said with a smile, leading her to the door.
Dance of Passion
She took a few quick, mindless steps toward him before turning away, allowing her hair to fall in a curtain over her eyes. Then, she turned to look at him again, coming closer still. He took a few steps toward her, mirroring her actions in a way, and she turned from him again, still unsure of what she wanted.
She was within arm's length of him now, and he reached out, firmly clasping her wrist as she made to turn away again, pulling her back instead. Before she could make any move whatsoever, his lips were against hers. At first, she tried to pull away, horrified. She was still angry with him. Wasn't she? But then, it was as if a wave washed over her mind, putting it to sleep, and she closed her eyes, melting into his kiss.
As quickly as they'd seemed to vacate her frenzied mind, her thought processes returned and she wriggled from his grasp, angrily walking away. He was quick though, and soon caught up, taking her hand once more, pulling her toward him. Unsteady on her feet, she crashed against his chest before abruptly pulling herself upright, crossing her arms firmly across her chest. he held up his hands like an offering, shrugging his shoulders.
There was a moment where they were both silent, frozen before at the same time, they both took the few steps forward so they were standing inches from one another. Her eyes were fire, and his were ice, slowly, helplessly melting it. He reached out a gentle hand, brushing a finger against the skin of her cheek, causing her to tremble involuntarily as a chill ran down her spine. His fingers trailed lightly down the length of her face before coming to rest around her chin, his palm barely touching it's pointed, bony surface. She took a cautious step backwards, wordlessly staring at him, taking him in as he stood seemingly frozen in place.
It all happened so quickly. She could feel her heart thudding against her rib cage. Her shoulders slumped in lazy exhaustion as she allowed her mind to succumb to the yearning of her heart. His eyes slowly widened, his mouth fallingopen a moment before abruptly closing again as she came at him, her hand thrust out before her, forcefully grabbing his shirt in it's fist and pulling him to her. She closed her eyes as their mouths met. All her body was on fire, and his kiss seemed the sole cure, melting the invisible heat and sending a wave of calm washing through her.
Exhausted, she collapsed into his open arms, finally melting as he placed a light peck on the top of her head, interlacing their fingers together and pulling her up so he could look into her eyes. She let out a breath before a relaxed smile replaced her earlier, seemingly glued on frown. His eyes softened as he looked at her, the woman he loved and her smile was mirrored in him as he lost himself in the moment.
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Every Day Birthday
"Dad," said the young boy, clear, bright eyes sparkling as he looked up at the man beside him. "What's a birthday?"
"Well Tommy," said his father putting down his knife and fork with a gentle clang on the bare plate and turning to face his son, making sure he had his full attention. "In the old days, a birthday was a person's special day, held once a year on the same date to commemorate, and celebrate the day of their birth."
"So why don't birthdays exist anymore?"
"Because one day, a little while ago, someone decided it would be a good idea to have your birthday everyday," said his father. "Once upon a time when the occasion was only annual, they were special."
"But it can't be special when it happens everyday," said Tommy, his eyes sparkling.
"Exactly," he said, reaching out to ruffle his son's hair.
"But aren't birthdays supposed to be special?" Tommy asked quietly.
"Yes, they are."
"Why do birthdays have to be every single day?" she asked with a heavy sigh.
"I feel like I've barely lived, yet I'm on the downhill track."
Her friend turned to her, mouth open wide. "We are not on the downhill track Sally!"
"It feels like it," Sally said.
"Maybe to you," said her friend.
"Kristen," Sally said seriously, eyeing her friend. "When you're about to have 'grand' added to your list of titles, it feels like it."
"There must be some way to age slower," said Kristen, thoughtfully scratching her chin.
"George," she said softly, squeezing his hand a little harder, causing his eyes to meet hers.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice so quiet she had to lean in close in order to hear.
"The people," she said shakily. "I'm not sure they like your invention."
"Well, I suppose it is killing me quicker." George shrugged.
"In the old days, every day was someone's birthday," she said, "but when it's every day, it loses the magic and the spark that all birthdays are supposed to have."
"What are you trying to say?"
"A day doesn't have to be your birthday just to be special."
"But birthdays are extra special."
"When they happen once a year," she said, surprising even herself with her patience. "But it loses all of that when it happens every day. Besides, having a birthday every day, you age a lot quicker and you're therefore here for a lot less time."
"Well, I suppose you do have a point Dear," he said to a sigh of relief from his wife.
"Thank you," she said, finally feeling herself relax,
"Will you contact my secretary for me?" he asked. in a whisper, "I'll make a motion to have it changed in the morning."
"Well Tommy," said his father putting down his knife and fork with a gentle clang on the bare plate and turning to face his son, making sure he had his full attention. "In the old days, a birthday was a person's special day, held once a year on the same date to commemorate, and celebrate the day of their birth."
"So why don't birthdays exist anymore?"
"Because one day, a little while ago, someone decided it would be a good idea to have your birthday everyday," said his father. "Once upon a time when the occasion was only annual, they were special."
"But it can't be special when it happens everyday," said Tommy, his eyes sparkling.
"Exactly," he said, reaching out to ruffle his son's hair.
"But aren't birthdays supposed to be special?" Tommy asked quietly.
"Yes, they are."
"Why do birthdays have to be every single day?" she asked with a heavy sigh.
"I feel like I've barely lived, yet I'm on the downhill track."
Her friend turned to her, mouth open wide. "We are not on the downhill track Sally!"
"It feels like it," Sally said.
"Maybe to you," said her friend.
"Kristen," Sally said seriously, eyeing her friend. "When you're about to have 'grand' added to your list of titles, it feels like it."
"There must be some way to age slower," said Kristen, thoughtfully scratching her chin.
"George," she said softly, squeezing his hand a little harder, causing his eyes to meet hers.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice so quiet she had to lean in close in order to hear.
"The people," she said shakily. "I'm not sure they like your invention."
"Well, I suppose it is killing me quicker." George shrugged.
"In the old days, every day was someone's birthday," she said, "but when it's every day, it loses the magic and the spark that all birthdays are supposed to have."
"What are you trying to say?"
"A day doesn't have to be your birthday just to be special."
"But birthdays are extra special."
"When they happen once a year," she said, surprising even herself with her patience. "But it loses all of that when it happens every day. Besides, having a birthday every day, you age a lot quicker and you're therefore here for a lot less time."
"Well, I suppose you do have a point Dear," he said to a sigh of relief from his wife.
"Thank you," she said, finally feeling herself relax,
"Will you contact my secretary for me?" he asked. in a whisper, "I'll make a motion to have it changed in the morning."
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
This Is How We Do
As they passed us, they'd stare, their eyes cold as their gaze lingered a little longer than necessary. Some of the newer members of our group still got affected by it, but it had happened so many times to me that now, I didn't even bat an eyelid.
"Cole," says Kara, one of the newer members of the group, "how does it not affect you? What's your secret?"
"Well," I say. "At first, it affected me just the same as it's affecting you now, but once you've had it happen as many times as it's happened to me, it just stops mattering."
"Oh," she says, touching a light hand to my shoulder. "I'm sorry Cole."
"It's alright," I say, waving away her concern. "I'm tough. I suppose that's another factor."
"Ew!" a kid calls as he passes us. "Using your feet!? That's dirty!"
"Hey!" I say, glancing at my friend before stepping forward, toward his tormentor. "What would you do if you didn't have arms to use?"
"Cole!" says young, nervous Kara, scampering up behind me.
"It's alright Kara," I say. glancing at her before taking another step. "This is no big deal."
"Loser!" calls someone else, putting up a thumb and finger in front of their forehead as they stare harshly at another of my friends who is stumbling over her words.
"And you!" I call, turning the tables now. They stop and turn to face me, wide eyed. "How frustrated would you feel if you couldn't get your words out straight away?"
"I... I..."
"Isn't that a little hypocritical of you?" I ask with a raised brow, "making fun of them stumbling over their words, yet stumbling over them yourself? It's really no different to not knowing what you want to say. Just more frustrating because you know, but can't quite get it out."
I notice their shoulders slumping as they slowly meet my eyes. "I suppose you have a point," they say in a whisper. The first tormentor however, still doesn't seem to be convinced and stands with arms crossed and brow raised.
"Using your feet is dirty. They go on the ground for goodness sake!"
"What if we all walked on our hands?" I ask, challenging him. "Wouldn't they be dirty then too?"
"I suppose..."
"Look," I say, getting sick and tired of giving explanations. "We do the best with what we've got. We have certain parts of us that don't work like they're supposed to. If you were in our situation, what would you do? Because, this," I say, gesturing back at my group of friends, who are all still watching us, watching me, "is how we do."
As the two, once tormentors walk away and I turn to my friends once more, I am met with a round of applause. Pete gets up and claps me on the back, a big smile on his face. "Good going Cole."
"Cole," says Kara, one of the newer members of the group, "how does it not affect you? What's your secret?"
"Well," I say. "At first, it affected me just the same as it's affecting you now, but once you've had it happen as many times as it's happened to me, it just stops mattering."
"Oh," she says, touching a light hand to my shoulder. "I'm sorry Cole."
"It's alright," I say, waving away her concern. "I'm tough. I suppose that's another factor."
"Ew!" a kid calls as he passes us. "Using your feet!? That's dirty!"
"Hey!" I say, glancing at my friend before stepping forward, toward his tormentor. "What would you do if you didn't have arms to use?"
"Cole!" says young, nervous Kara, scampering up behind me.
"It's alright Kara," I say. glancing at her before taking another step. "This is no big deal."
"Loser!" calls someone else, putting up a thumb and finger in front of their forehead as they stare harshly at another of my friends who is stumbling over her words.
"And you!" I call, turning the tables now. They stop and turn to face me, wide eyed. "How frustrated would you feel if you couldn't get your words out straight away?"
"I... I..."
"Isn't that a little hypocritical of you?" I ask with a raised brow, "making fun of them stumbling over their words, yet stumbling over them yourself? It's really no different to not knowing what you want to say. Just more frustrating because you know, but can't quite get it out."
I notice their shoulders slumping as they slowly meet my eyes. "I suppose you have a point," they say in a whisper. The first tormentor however, still doesn't seem to be convinced and stands with arms crossed and brow raised.
"Using your feet is dirty. They go on the ground for goodness sake!"
"What if we all walked on our hands?" I ask, challenging him. "Wouldn't they be dirty then too?"
"I suppose..."
"Look," I say, getting sick and tired of giving explanations. "We do the best with what we've got. We have certain parts of us that don't work like they're supposed to. If you were in our situation, what would you do? Because, this," I say, gesturing back at my group of friends, who are all still watching us, watching me, "is how we do."
As the two, once tormentors walk away and I turn to my friends once more, I am met with a round of applause. Pete gets up and claps me on the back, a big smile on his face. "Good going Cole."
Monday, November 10, 2014
Revitializing Winds
He looked around him, cautious yet curious. He had the eerie feeling of being watched, like something he couldn't see was around, observing him from the shadows, yet this strange new world fascinated him, and he longed to explore what it had to offer.
The old man tread carefully, keeping an eye on the young boy as he stood, looking around. He remembered fondly that feeling of fascination and wonder that he himself had once experienced. Though, he'd been in this world long enough now. Nothing surprised him anymore, and the thought saddened him. Oh, how he longed to revisit his youth, be a child again so that everything old may be new once more.
The young man jumped at the slight, quiet sound and swirled around to look behind him, but, there was nothing. Only his shadow. A little more wary now than a moment ago, he continued to look around, slowly taking in his surroundings. His eyes wide and filled with wonder, the young man circled the small space, not approaching the curtains by the edge, for feeling told him if danger were anywhere, it would lurk there, in the shadows were he could not see.
He winced at the sound of his footfall and froze a moment, fearing his stumble may give him away. Slowly, he reached out, drawing back the curtain a few inches and chancing a peek at the space beyond. Seeing the young man come round, he stepped back, allowing the curtain to fall back into place and pressing himself against the wall behind, hardly daring to breathe for fear of exposure.
The young man stopped again. The curtain had moved, as if it were breathing. But curtains couldn't move on their own, could they? He was sure they couldn't, which meant something... someone, else was around. He looked around him, slowly now, studying each thing he looked at for signs of life. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, for he could see nothing but the still surroundings that had been there this whole time. He shivered at the sudden gust of icy cold air blowing around him.
As the icy breeze surrounded him, the old man knew it was time. Taking a breath, he mustered all his strength, and with the wind aiding his plight, stepped forward, out into the light.
The young man gasped at the sudden appearence of the old man. He approached with caution, curiously looking him over. This man seemed familiar, yet he was sure he'd never seen him before in his life.
As the old man watched the young, the memories of his youth washed over him in a wave, and a smile cracked his once still, straight lined lips. He remembered the time he had been that age. He held the memories fond and dear.
The wind was blowing faster now, as if to urge the old man in his quest. He closed his eyes and breathed in the chilling air. He stepped forward, colliding with the young man as two became one once more. The young man smiled to himself. He was young again.
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
Reunited
"Goodnight Petal," he says, pausing in the doorway to look back at his granddaughter before turning out the light.
"Grandpa," she says softly, and her only just hears her. "Please don't leave me." With a few strides, he sits on the edge of her bed, leaning over to stroke her soft brown waves. "I don't like the dark, and I'm not sleepy yet."
"It's alright," he says with a kind smile. "Why don't I tell you a story?"
The young girl nods, snuggling deeper into her pillows as her grandfather pulls the blankets tight around her. His eyes are soft as he looks at his grandaughter before turning his gaze to the window and the night outside.
"Your grandmother," he says, closing his eyes as he pictures her in his mind. "was, is, a beautiful woman."
"Where is she Grandpa?" asks the girl innocently. "I thought she'd died."
"No petal," he says, glancing at her again. "She's just... lost."
"Why Miss, you look exquisite this evening, I'm surprised nobody has asked you to dance yet," he says, not being able to help smiling as her bright green eyes meet his. "Would you like to dance with me?"
"Why, I would be absolutely delighted," she says, a big smile on her face as she takes his outstretched hand and rises to her feet.
He leads her out to the dance floor and they turn toward one another, beginning to move in time to the music.
"My name is Joe," he says,
"I'm Lina," she says.
"Lina," he repeats in a slow whisper, testing how the name sounds on his tongue. He closes his eyes, his smile a little wider than before. After a moment, he opens his eyes again and looks at her, meeting her gaze. He is no longer aware of those that surround them, only the music and her. Her, unbelievably beautiful her.
Three years later, Joe arrives home to a house which, if not for the baby crying, is unusually silent. Normally, Lina has music playing softly while she works, cleaning or cooking.
"Lina?" he calls as he walks through the house, picking up baby Olive on the way through. "Lina! I'm home!" Joe is met with no reply. He calls her name over and over again growing more and more worried each time, only to get the same response. Nothing.
"Does this story have a happy ending Grandpa?" asks the young girl, frowning at where the story seems to be going.
"Not yet," says Joe honestly. "But, your grandmother, Lina, she gave me your mother, and you."
"My mother is baby Olive?" asks the young girl, eyes wide. Joe nods.
"Hello, miss, you look lost." says Joe, smiling at a woman wandering around outside his house.
"My husband called me that the first time we met."
"My name is Joe," he says, the smile on his lips wider now.
"He said that too," says the woman.
"What's your name Love?" asks Joe, not really believing it. Not wanting to without confirmation.
"I'm Lina."
"Lina," he breathes.
"He said my name just like that too, when I told him," says the woman.
"That's because I am him, Love," says Joe, stepping closer to her. "It's me Joe."
"Joe," she asks, slowly looking up at him. She stares at him blankly a moment as her memories come in a flood, and with it a few tears.
"Joe?" He nods. "I thought I"d never see you again." Lina falls into his arms and he holds her close.
"I thought I'd lost you forever," he says into her soft hair.
"Grandpa," calls his granddaughter from the veranda. "Grandpa, who's that?"
"Brisa, I'd like you to meet your grandmother," he says, leading Lina toward her.
"Lina, this is our grandaughter, Brisa."
"Olive?" she asks as a tear rolls down her cheek and Joe nods.
"Hi Grandma," says Brisa, hugging her.
"Hello, Petal." says Lina.
"Grandpa," she says softly, and her only just hears her. "Please don't leave me." With a few strides, he sits on the edge of her bed, leaning over to stroke her soft brown waves. "I don't like the dark, and I'm not sleepy yet."
"It's alright," he says with a kind smile. "Why don't I tell you a story?"
The young girl nods, snuggling deeper into her pillows as her grandfather pulls the blankets tight around her. His eyes are soft as he looks at his grandaughter before turning his gaze to the window and the night outside.
"Your grandmother," he says, closing his eyes as he pictures her in his mind. "was, is, a beautiful woman."
"Where is she Grandpa?" asks the girl innocently. "I thought she'd died."
"No petal," he says, glancing at her again. "She's just... lost."
"Why Miss, you look exquisite this evening, I'm surprised nobody has asked you to dance yet," he says, not being able to help smiling as her bright green eyes meet his. "Would you like to dance with me?"
"Why, I would be absolutely delighted," she says, a big smile on her face as she takes his outstretched hand and rises to her feet.
He leads her out to the dance floor and they turn toward one another, beginning to move in time to the music.
"My name is Joe," he says,
"I'm Lina," she says.
"Lina," he repeats in a slow whisper, testing how the name sounds on his tongue. He closes his eyes, his smile a little wider than before. After a moment, he opens his eyes again and looks at her, meeting her gaze. He is no longer aware of those that surround them, only the music and her. Her, unbelievably beautiful her.
Three years later, Joe arrives home to a house which, if not for the baby crying, is unusually silent. Normally, Lina has music playing softly while she works, cleaning or cooking.
"Lina?" he calls as he walks through the house, picking up baby Olive on the way through. "Lina! I'm home!" Joe is met with no reply. He calls her name over and over again growing more and more worried each time, only to get the same response. Nothing.
"Does this story have a happy ending Grandpa?" asks the young girl, frowning at where the story seems to be going.
"Not yet," says Joe honestly. "But, your grandmother, Lina, she gave me your mother, and you."
"My mother is baby Olive?" asks the young girl, eyes wide. Joe nods.
"Hello, miss, you look lost." says Joe, smiling at a woman wandering around outside his house.
"My husband called me that the first time we met."
"My name is Joe," he says, the smile on his lips wider now.
"He said that too," says the woman.
"What's your name Love?" asks Joe, not really believing it. Not wanting to without confirmation.
"I'm Lina."
"Lina," he breathes.
"He said my name just like that too, when I told him," says the woman.
"That's because I am him, Love," says Joe, stepping closer to her. "It's me Joe."
"Joe," she asks, slowly looking up at him. She stares at him blankly a moment as her memories come in a flood, and with it a few tears.
"Joe?" He nods. "I thought I"d never see you again." Lina falls into his arms and he holds her close.
"I thought I'd lost you forever," he says into her soft hair.
"Grandpa," calls his granddaughter from the veranda. "Grandpa, who's that?"
"Brisa, I'd like you to meet your grandmother," he says, leading Lina toward her.
"Lina, this is our grandaughter, Brisa."
"Olive?" she asks as a tear rolls down her cheek and Joe nods.
"Hi Grandma," says Brisa, hugging her.
"Hello, Petal." says Lina.
Friday, October 31, 2014
Thinking Of You
A sad expression was on her face as she approached the front door. Quickly, she tried to cover it with a mask of happiness before knocking.
"Katie," he said, the smile spreading quickly across his lips at the sight of her. "It's great to see you, come on in." She followed him inside and to the lounge room, where they sit beside one another on the plush cushions.
Unable to keep up the charade any longer, and without warning, she burst into tears, falling into his side. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her, concern flooding his face. "Katie, what's wrong? Katie? Beautiful?"
"Oh George," she managed to say through her tears. "I'm so sorry."
"Whatever for darling?" he asked, lifting her chin with a finger, meeting her eyes. "I'd like to stay."
"I'm not going anywhere, I promise you."
"I love you," she said, crying again. "I love you."
"I love you too," said George slowly.
"George, they're forcing me to marry someone else." She said, finally allowing her timid eyes to meet his kind ones.
"Oh Katie," he said, tightening his grip on her as she continued to cry. He could just about feel his own heart being tugged forcefully from his chest and crushed into a thousand pieces.
"George, say I won't lose you, please." she said, begging desperately with her eyes.
"I won't ever let you go Katie," he said solemnly, a tear trickling down his own cheek now. "You have my word."
I won't ever let you go, he'd said, and that had been the last thing he had wanted, but she'd been forced from him instead. They'd known each other for so long, and it wasn't all that long ago that he'd discovered his real feelings for her went beyond just simple friendship. He'd been going to propose next week....
"Stop crying girl," her mother snapped angrilly. "This should be the happiest day of your life."
"It might have a chance of being that way, if you weren't forcing me to marry someone I don't even know!"
"He is a good man," said her mother firmly. "Your father picked him out for you. Do you not trust your father?"
Katie said nothing, knowing she'd get in deeper trouble if she was honest, but she couldn't bring herself to lie either. "Maybe if you'd picked George..." she said so quietly it was barely audible, even to her.
Katie wore a mask of happiness as she went back down the aisle with her newly wed husband. The last person among their guests that she came across was George. He gave her a sad smile as they held hands for a moment. He squeezed it tight, fighting a battle with the tears desperate to turn his cheeks into a waterfall. 'You're the one I love,' she mouthed giving his hand one final, tight squeeze before letting it drop and her stranger husband lead her away.
"I love you too, my darling," he whispered, allowing his gaze to follow her receding shadow. "One day, I vow to you, whether it be this life or the next, we will be together."
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Recurring Dream
I pause, the need for breath now overtaking the need to run with my pack. Panting with exhaustion from the speed of our route through the forest, I look up at the sky. I close my eyes a brief moment, remembering a time only a few months earlier when I had felt completely lost. I hadn't remembered anything, fear and uncertainty running through me.
Eventually, it had become clear. My pack, ever loyal, had tracked me down and taken me in as one of their own once more. I soon discovered that I'd been missing, they'd lost track of exactly how long I'd been gone. A long time was all they could tell me. My first memory, waking up in that forest, was the first time they'd sensed me since I disappeared.
My pack tell me that you don't remember anything when you switch. My first memory, they tell me, even though I'm human in this memory, is when I first started to change back.
Her light brown, wavy, glossy hair flies gently as the wind coming in through the open window sets it afloat. She turns around, smiling at the sight of me. Her plump, naturally pink lips turn up further at the corners, her chocolate eyes sparkling as the sun hits them. Her whole face with it's pale, milky complexion is aglow.
I let out an involuntary shiver as the image in my mind disappears, chilling me to the bone. Beside me, a member of my pack cocks his head to the side, are you ok? I shrug my shoulders, and his eyes widen in warning. We need to run again. If your heart rate gets too low, you change, and it was excruciating enough the first time around, let alone doing it all over again.
As we gain speed, my heart starts to race again, until it is hammering in my chest. My breathing
is heavy, yet steady and I begin to pant. The last thing I hear is a loud howl before everything disappears, yet I can still feel my paws hit the ground.
"Barney," she whispers as she approaches, her smile somewhat seductive. I feel myself tense as she reaches out, lightly brushing her fingertips along my forearm, and a pleasent shiver runs right through me. "Barney," she says again and I close my eyes at her caress.
"Rose,"
When my vision returns to me, I vigurously shake my head and begin to run again. This time, my pack is nowhere near me. But I just keep running aimlessly, as my thoughts consume most of my mind. That voice... her voice... it sounds strangely familiar, and I wonder whether I've heard it before. I wonder where it comes from. Who she is.
I've lost track of how long I've been running for. But I know this. I am lost from my pack. I am lone now. I reach a mountain top and take a moment to regain breath. Looking up toward the sun in the sky, I howl.
"Barney," comes the voice again, a whisper in the wind. I shiver. That voice.. Why is it so familiar?
She wraps her arms around me, and I squeeze her tight, kissing the side of her neck. "Rose," I say, throwing my head back and closing my eyes.
"Barney," she echoes.
Suddenly, the image is in my head. Her face. Her dark, sparkling eyes, her soft lips, her pale, smooth skin. The next thing I know, I am running. I don't know where. I know only that my feet are carrying me as fast as they can. I focus on steadying my breath. My body must know something that my mind does not.
There she is, running. She crashes into me then pulls away. She is frightened. Until she meets my eyes. Then, she knows somehow. "Barney," she whispers, wrapping her arms around my furry neck and folding into me. Her voice. That voice. It's her.
I am stationary, but my heart is running fast ahead of me. Unable to speak in my wolf form, I settle for simply nuzzling her cheek with my wet nose. I feel her smile and I know somehow that this is really where I belong.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sequel to 'The Silent Haunt'
Eventually, it had become clear. My pack, ever loyal, had tracked me down and taken me in as one of their own once more. I soon discovered that I'd been missing, they'd lost track of exactly how long I'd been gone. A long time was all they could tell me. My first memory, waking up in that forest, was the first time they'd sensed me since I disappeared.
My pack tell me that you don't remember anything when you switch. My first memory, they tell me, even though I'm human in this memory, is when I first started to change back.
Her light brown, wavy, glossy hair flies gently as the wind coming in through the open window sets it afloat. She turns around, smiling at the sight of me. Her plump, naturally pink lips turn up further at the corners, her chocolate eyes sparkling as the sun hits them. Her whole face with it's pale, milky complexion is aglow.
I let out an involuntary shiver as the image in my mind disappears, chilling me to the bone. Beside me, a member of my pack cocks his head to the side, are you ok? I shrug my shoulders, and his eyes widen in warning. We need to run again. If your heart rate gets too low, you change, and it was excruciating enough the first time around, let alone doing it all over again.
As we gain speed, my heart starts to race again, until it is hammering in my chest. My breathing
is heavy, yet steady and I begin to pant. The last thing I hear is a loud howl before everything disappears, yet I can still feel my paws hit the ground.
"Barney," she whispers as she approaches, her smile somewhat seductive. I feel myself tense as she reaches out, lightly brushing her fingertips along my forearm, and a pleasent shiver runs right through me. "Barney," she says again and I close my eyes at her caress.
"Rose,"
When my vision returns to me, I vigurously shake my head and begin to run again. This time, my pack is nowhere near me. But I just keep running aimlessly, as my thoughts consume most of my mind. That voice... her voice... it sounds strangely familiar, and I wonder whether I've heard it before. I wonder where it comes from. Who she is.
I've lost track of how long I've been running for. But I know this. I am lost from my pack. I am lone now. I reach a mountain top and take a moment to regain breath. Looking up toward the sun in the sky, I howl.
"Barney," comes the voice again, a whisper in the wind. I shiver. That voice.. Why is it so familiar?
She wraps her arms around me, and I squeeze her tight, kissing the side of her neck. "Rose," I say, throwing my head back and closing my eyes.
"Barney," she echoes.
Suddenly, the image is in my head. Her face. Her dark, sparkling eyes, her soft lips, her pale, smooth skin. The next thing I know, I am running. I don't know where. I know only that my feet are carrying me as fast as they can. I focus on steadying my breath. My body must know something that my mind does not.
There she is, running. She crashes into me then pulls away. She is frightened. Until she meets my eyes. Then, she knows somehow. "Barney," she whispers, wrapping her arms around my furry neck and folding into me. Her voice. That voice. It's her.
I am stationary, but my heart is running fast ahead of me. Unable to speak in my wolf form, I settle for simply nuzzling her cheek with my wet nose. I feel her smile and I know somehow that this is really where I belong.
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Sequel to 'The Silent Haunt'
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
The Silent Haunt
There is a cool breeze blowing through the emerald leaves around me, and the lake before me is like ice to the touch.I can't help but shiver in my blindingly green, yet blue feeling surroundings. The sky above me is a cloudless blue and the sun appears to beat down on the earth, though I don't feel it. This is all I know. I don't remember anything before this. To the past, my mind is a blank. Given my surroundings, that scares me.
It would appear that civilisation is nowhere near, for as far as I can see, there is only green. The sole break in that endless green is the lake before me. I wonder how long the lake is, for it stretches out in front of me as far as my eye can see.
I just about jump out of my skin when I look down at myself. Not believing my eyes, I take another look, only to have the same sight as before greet me. That is all there is. Skin. I am unclothed, and though sight confirms this simple fact, I struggle to accept it. This is not me. I would never leave a room unclothed, let alone go out in public in this manner, which begs the question, where are my clothes? Why am I not wearing any clothes?
I stop dead at the sound, and feel my eyes grow wider as it comes again. I can only remember a few minutes, fifteen at most, before it is all blank, and in that time there has been nothing but complete and utter silence. Just when I start to think that maybe things will return to what seems to be normal now, the noise comes again, and the sound sends a chill down my spine, though I'm unsure quite why. It is the sound of wolves, howling.
The howls sound distant, and I imagine the wolves up high on a hill somewhere, for the sound of their cries seems to echo a few times over after the noise initially hits my ears. A few minutes later, I hear the howls again, only louder this time. The wolves are closer, and I feel myself tense.
Every few minutes, the cycle repeats itself. With each repeat of the cycle, the howls become louder as the wolves grow closer. As the proximity between myself and those wolves lessens, I switch to autopilot. My body takes over completely, and before I'm aware of what I' doing, I'm running. As fast as my feet will carry me, I run, not to any particular destination, just... away.
My heart is beating so fast it feels as if it is making an attempt at escape from my rib cage. The loud sound of my bare feet thudding against the leaf strewn ground fills my ears, and I wonder whether it is my footfalls alone that I hear, or that of the wolves as well. I can still hear their howls, and though I know they are gaining on me, the sound seems distant.
It was bound to happen at one point or another, but I suddenly stop, falling into a squatting position as I rest my hands on my knees, desperately trying to claim my breath as my own once more. The wolves are just behind me now, and my breath, though more controlled, is as fast as my racing heart. I feel everything within me tense as the wolves, too many to count in my state, circle me. But they do nothing to me, simply surrounding me.
I drop onto my knees on the forest floor as an excruciating pain hits me. I am screaming as my blood is taken over by a burning wild fire that courses through me in it's place. All at once, though I don't remember anything past an hour ago, everything becomes clear. My unmodest dress, or lack thereof, my completely blank mind, the wolves chasing me as if on a hunt with me as their prey, yet not harming me at all. I understand now. I am one of them. I am wolf.
It would appear that civilisation is nowhere near, for as far as I can see, there is only green. The sole break in that endless green is the lake before me. I wonder how long the lake is, for it stretches out in front of me as far as my eye can see.
I just about jump out of my skin when I look down at myself. Not believing my eyes, I take another look, only to have the same sight as before greet me. That is all there is. Skin. I am unclothed, and though sight confirms this simple fact, I struggle to accept it. This is not me. I would never leave a room unclothed, let alone go out in public in this manner, which begs the question, where are my clothes? Why am I not wearing any clothes?
I stop dead at the sound, and feel my eyes grow wider as it comes again. I can only remember a few minutes, fifteen at most, before it is all blank, and in that time there has been nothing but complete and utter silence. Just when I start to think that maybe things will return to what seems to be normal now, the noise comes again, and the sound sends a chill down my spine, though I'm unsure quite why. It is the sound of wolves, howling.
The howls sound distant, and I imagine the wolves up high on a hill somewhere, for the sound of their cries seems to echo a few times over after the noise initially hits my ears. A few minutes later, I hear the howls again, only louder this time. The wolves are closer, and I feel myself tense.
Every few minutes, the cycle repeats itself. With each repeat of the cycle, the howls become louder as the wolves grow closer. As the proximity between myself and those wolves lessens, I switch to autopilot. My body takes over completely, and before I'm aware of what I' doing, I'm running. As fast as my feet will carry me, I run, not to any particular destination, just... away.
My heart is beating so fast it feels as if it is making an attempt at escape from my rib cage. The loud sound of my bare feet thudding against the leaf strewn ground fills my ears, and I wonder whether it is my footfalls alone that I hear, or that of the wolves as well. I can still hear their howls, and though I know they are gaining on me, the sound seems distant.
It was bound to happen at one point or another, but I suddenly stop, falling into a squatting position as I rest my hands on my knees, desperately trying to claim my breath as my own once more. The wolves are just behind me now, and my breath, though more controlled, is as fast as my racing heart. I feel everything within me tense as the wolves, too many to count in my state, circle me. But they do nothing to me, simply surrounding me.
I drop onto my knees on the forest floor as an excruciating pain hits me. I am screaming as my blood is taken over by a burning wild fire that courses through me in it's place. All at once, though I don't remember anything past an hour ago, everything becomes clear. My unmodest dress, or lack thereof, my completely blank mind, the wolves chasing me as if on a hunt with me as their prey, yet not harming me at all. I understand now. I am one of them. I am wolf.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Dance With Me
It was one of the few times in her life that Lea had felt pretty, yet she sat on the sidelines and watched as other girls danced with their partners. No one had asked her to dance.Not yet, and that's what she was hanging onto. Clinging to. No one had asked her to dance, yet. There was still time. It wasn't over yet. Her eyes wandered as she tried not to look at the dancefloor, and the many people on it, having a great time.
Little did Lea notice the slender, blonde haired man approaching. Slowly, she looked over to see his hand extended toward her. Her eyes wandered from his hand up his arm and finally to his smiling face. Recognising who it was, the crush she'd had ever since her first year at high school, and one of the popular kids, she looked away quickly. But still, he took her hand in his and pulled her up. As he did so, she could feel her heart begin to race in her chest and tried hard not to let it show.
Out on the floor, she tried spinning into him, though it just ended with her crashing into him. His smile ever present, he smiled as he took her hands and led the way. Lea couldn't help but smile as she allowed her head to fall onto his shoulder, looking out at the other couples. At first she saw them, but then it was as if they were the only two on the floor.
The most magical moment was when he lifted her up, holding her firmly but gently by the waist as they gazed into one another's eyes, like something out of a movie. It only lasted a few seconds before Lea found her feet once again touching the ground, but for her it was enough. Because for her, it had felt like an eternity.
They danced some more before he dipped her low, and they had another of those eye lock moments. The smile on Lea's face now could not possibly get any wider, and suddenly, she didn't care what the others thought as they straightened again and she hugged him tight, kissing him just as the balloons fell from the ceiling.
Little did Lea notice the slender, blonde haired man approaching. Slowly, she looked over to see his hand extended toward her. Her eyes wandered from his hand up his arm and finally to his smiling face. Recognising who it was, the crush she'd had ever since her first year at high school, and one of the popular kids, she looked away quickly. But still, he took her hand in his and pulled her up. As he did so, she could feel her heart begin to race in her chest and tried hard not to let it show.
Out on the floor, she tried spinning into him, though it just ended with her crashing into him. His smile ever present, he smiled as he took her hands and led the way. Lea couldn't help but smile as she allowed her head to fall onto his shoulder, looking out at the other couples. At first she saw them, but then it was as if they were the only two on the floor.
The most magical moment was when he lifted her up, holding her firmly but gently by the waist as they gazed into one another's eyes, like something out of a movie. It only lasted a few seconds before Lea found her feet once again touching the ground, but for her it was enough. Because for her, it had felt like an eternity.
They danced some more before he dipped her low, and they had another of those eye lock moments. The smile on Lea's face now could not possibly get any wider, and suddenly, she didn't care what the others thought as they straightened again and she hugged him tight, kissing him just as the balloons fell from the ceiling.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Man I Once Knew
My eyes snap open, and I rise quickly from the warm bed sheets that cover me. My breath is swift and heavy as I look around me, squinting as my eyes adjust to the darkness. It takes a moment to calm myself. For a few minutes, I'm not convinced that the haunting nightmare from which I'd just awoken was just that. A nightmare.
Months earlier, everything had been different to how it was now. The change had occurred quickly and I could remember that night as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. That night, Nick hadn't been him. That was the only explanation I could fathom. Nick had never been a big drinker, and that night he'd had more than usual. All I can say is that the alcohol in his system changed him. The unexpected, sudden change in his demeanour scared me deeply, and I was chilled to my core. Thinking on my feet, I waited until he had passed out before I packed a bag and left.
The next morning, he called me. My hand hovered for a moment over the phone, as I debated whether or not to answer the call.
"Callie, Thank God!" he said when I picked up the phone and answered, having decided to give him at least a chance. "Where are you? I've been so worried!"
"You don't remember?" I asked in place of answering his question.
"Don't remember..." he said, and laughs a little. My heart swelled at hearing that lovely laugh. "Well, I guess that answers your question, doesn't it?"
"Nick, I... You... You came home drunk last night." As I spoke, I could feel my voice trembling, and it only got worse as I went on. Though he was silent, I could sense Nick crying on the other end of the phone, and suddenly I remember the cause. "I'm sorry Callie. I'm so sorry. I.. The last thing I ever want is to hurt you. I don't want to be like my father. I'm not my father."
"Ok," I said, not really convinced. "You didn't lay a hand on me if that makes you feel any better. The house copped it instead," I said before I was aware of the words escaping his lips.
"Oh, good."
"But it scared me to death," I said after working up the courage to speak. "That's whiy I left."
"Callie, there's something else," he said after a while.
"What?" I ask quietly. After seeing him that night, I couldn't really think of what else there could be.
"There's someone else," he answered and I gulped heavily.
"What?" I asked again, not wanting to believe it. "How long?" I asked, before realising Nick is no longer on the other end of the phone.
I put the phone down and walk away, toward the window of the motel I'd checked into the night before. I stared out the window, not really seeing a thing as I allowed the tears to escape and roll slowly down my cheeks. I hated walking away when I was still in love with him, but that's exactly what I was doing.
That night has replayed over and over at night, a recurring dream that reminds me what the true meaning of fear really is. When I wake, I feel as if I've dodged that same bullet over again, and I sit a moment, breathing hard as I remember that my safety is intact.
I meet with Nick again a while after it all happened, in search of some answers. He tells me that the someone else he'd told me about had been around for a few months. He'd loved us both, he says, and wanted to see if he could keep us both. I think he knows, from my expression after his admission that he has just blown his chance. I take solace when he tells me of his plans for the future. He's going to a facility to make sure he isn't a repeat of his alcoholic father. I smile and wish him well before we go our sepearte ways, for good this time. That last meeting with him was all I needed. It was the closure, and the cure of those recurring nightmares. I smile in the knowledge that he recognises what could be, and is seeking help before it reaches that point, and I am hopeful that the Nick I knew and loved could soon return.
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If you are worried about yourself, or someone else, please give Lifeline a call on 13 11 14. They can help.
Months earlier, everything had been different to how it was now. The change had occurred quickly and I could remember that night as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. That night, Nick hadn't been him. That was the only explanation I could fathom. Nick had never been a big drinker, and that night he'd had more than usual. All I can say is that the alcohol in his system changed him. The unexpected, sudden change in his demeanour scared me deeply, and I was chilled to my core. Thinking on my feet, I waited until he had passed out before I packed a bag and left.
The next morning, he called me. My hand hovered for a moment over the phone, as I debated whether or not to answer the call.
"Callie, Thank God!" he said when I picked up the phone and answered, having decided to give him at least a chance. "Where are you? I've been so worried!"
"You don't remember?" I asked in place of answering his question.
"Don't remember..." he said, and laughs a little. My heart swelled at hearing that lovely laugh. "Well, I guess that answers your question, doesn't it?"
"Nick, I... You... You came home drunk last night." As I spoke, I could feel my voice trembling, and it only got worse as I went on. Though he was silent, I could sense Nick crying on the other end of the phone, and suddenly I remember the cause. "I'm sorry Callie. I'm so sorry. I.. The last thing I ever want is to hurt you. I don't want to be like my father. I'm not my father."
"Ok," I said, not really convinced. "You didn't lay a hand on me if that makes you feel any better. The house copped it instead," I said before I was aware of the words escaping his lips.
"Oh, good."
"But it scared me to death," I said after working up the courage to speak. "That's whiy I left."
"Callie, there's something else," he said after a while.
"What?" I ask quietly. After seeing him that night, I couldn't really think of what else there could be.
"There's someone else," he answered and I gulped heavily.
"What?" I asked again, not wanting to believe it. "How long?" I asked, before realising Nick is no longer on the other end of the phone.
I put the phone down and walk away, toward the window of the motel I'd checked into the night before. I stared out the window, not really seeing a thing as I allowed the tears to escape and roll slowly down my cheeks. I hated walking away when I was still in love with him, but that's exactly what I was doing.
That night has replayed over and over at night, a recurring dream that reminds me what the true meaning of fear really is. When I wake, I feel as if I've dodged that same bullet over again, and I sit a moment, breathing hard as I remember that my safety is intact.
I meet with Nick again a while after it all happened, in search of some answers. He tells me that the someone else he'd told me about had been around for a few months. He'd loved us both, he says, and wanted to see if he could keep us both. I think he knows, from my expression after his admission that he has just blown his chance. I take solace when he tells me of his plans for the future. He's going to a facility to make sure he isn't a repeat of his alcoholic father. I smile and wish him well before we go our sepearte ways, for good this time. That last meeting with him was all I needed. It was the closure, and the cure of those recurring nightmares. I smile in the knowledge that he recognises what could be, and is seeking help before it reaches that point, and I am hopeful that the Nick I knew and loved could soon return.
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If you are worried about yourself, or someone else, please give Lifeline a call on 13 11 14. They can help.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Still Exists
As a little girl, I always loved the fairytales and the stories of everlasting love. I loved the idea of one day finding my own Prince Charming or, the one as they're called as you get older and living my own happily ever after. I used to think that was possible, but now that I've witnessed all I have of love in the real world, I doubt it a little. There are people in other countries denied the chance at love and instead told they'll be spending the rest of their life with someone they barely know. Others have opened their heart so many times only to have it shatter into a thousand pieces left for them to mend. While I still like the idea of love, with all that I've seen, I have become rather wary of it.
"Rachael," my mother smiled at me. "If you want love, you have to be willing to open your heart up to people."
"But... there's all that you've been through," I said and Mum leaned forward, lightly brushing her fingertips against my arm. "That's me Rach," she said. "I've had a bit of rough luck, sure. But you can't let that stop you."
"It killed me to watch you go through all that pain," I said and Mum's smile softens. "I can't imagine what it would have been like for you."
At the anniversary party for my grandparents a few months later, I was the only one of their grandchildren to speak.
"50 years is a long, long time," I started, trying my hardest to find a spot on the far wall that I could stare down rather than keep looking around at all the people. "Especially in this day and age, and it seems to me a real acheivement that they have been together this long. I've seen a lot of hardships with love, both from personal experience and my observations of others, and all of that made me doubt that love could be everlasting as they say it is in the fairytales. But Nan and Pop, you are my proof that fairytales can still exist and that, though it seems rare these days, everlasting love is possible." Everyone clapped when I was finished and I could even see my Nan and my Mum wiping the tears from their faces. I believed every word of what I said. Though I still have my small doubts about love, they've restored my faith that it can still exist.
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For my own grandparents, who recently celebrated their own 50th wedding anniversary. Congratulations on such a big milestone!
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Who Am I Living For?
"You want your classmates to think you look nice, don't you?" I can remember my mother saying. "To the other girls your age, looks is everything."
Now that I think back over it, and the other similar requests my parents have thrown at me, there's one simple word that I can extract from all of their requests, and it keeps repeating itself over and over in my mind. Impress. But why should I need to impress? Shouldn't people like me for me instead of how I look? Shouldn't someone be judged on their personality rather than appearance? I understand that appearance has a small part to play in they way people are viewed, and especially first impressions, but shouldn't it remain as just that? A small portion.
"Kay, you've got to live for yourself," a friend has told me recently, and that was what started me thinking. Up until now, I've been doing it my whole life without a second thought, but why should I be striving to impress those around me? You want someone to like you for you, not an 'improved' or 'bettered' version of yourself that's not really you. That can lead to some problems down the track sometimes if you forget your original facade. Those types of messes are the ones I realise now that I don't want to get into.
"What's changed about you?" Jenna asks when I approach her at school. "There's something... different. You seem happier."
"I'm living for myself," I say simply, shrugging.
"And who were you living for before?" she asks, her eyebrows knitting together.
"Everyone else," I say. "I was trying to impress everybody. But not anymore. I'm living for myself now, finally. I'm me, and anyone who wants to can take me or leave me as I am."
Jenna smiles. "I always knew you were stronger than you thought you were Kay."
"Really?" I ask, blinking.
"Yeah, there was always a light inside of you," Jen says, her smile growing wider. "One spark will shock the world."
Now that I think back over it, and the other similar requests my parents have thrown at me, there's one simple word that I can extract from all of their requests, and it keeps repeating itself over and over in my mind. Impress. But why should I need to impress? Shouldn't people like me for me instead of how I look? Shouldn't someone be judged on their personality rather than appearance? I understand that appearance has a small part to play in they way people are viewed, and especially first impressions, but shouldn't it remain as just that? A small portion.
"Kay, you've got to live for yourself," a friend has told me recently, and that was what started me thinking. Up until now, I've been doing it my whole life without a second thought, but why should I be striving to impress those around me? You want someone to like you for you, not an 'improved' or 'bettered' version of yourself that's not really you. That can lead to some problems down the track sometimes if you forget your original facade. Those types of messes are the ones I realise now that I don't want to get into.
"What's changed about you?" Jenna asks when I approach her at school. "There's something... different. You seem happier."
"I'm living for myself," I say simply, shrugging.
"And who were you living for before?" she asks, her eyebrows knitting together.
"Everyone else," I say. "I was trying to impress everybody. But not anymore. I'm living for myself now, finally. I'm me, and anyone who wants to can take me or leave me as I am."
Jenna smiles. "I always knew you were stronger than you thought you were Kay."
"Really?" I ask, blinking.
"Yeah, there was always a light inside of you," Jen says, her smile growing wider. "One spark will shock the world."
Lemons
I followed after my grandmother as she headed for the big lemon tree in the middle of her backyard. Basket slung over my arm, I ran to catch up to her.
"Here, give me that basket you've got there," she said, holding out her hand.
"Grandma, what do you want lemons for?" I asked curiously as I sat on the cool green grass, watching her as she picked lemons from the tree and placed them carefully in the basket she held. Grandma was silent until she'd finished picking her lemons, then, she turned to face me and squatted down, offering her hand. I took it and she pulled me up.
"Why would I want lemons?" she asked, repeating my question from earlier as we slowly made our way back down the hill to the back door. I simply looked back at her when she glanced at me, not having any idea of the answer to my own question. I let out the breath I was unaware I'd been holding when Grandma spoke again.
"Well my boy," she said, resting an arm around my shoulder as we walked through the door. "Lemons as they are bitter, are they not?" I silently nodded my head in agreement. "But what happens when you take the juice and add a little sugar huh?"
"Lemonade!" I said excitedly as she set a pitcher of the freshly made liquid on the kitchen counter in front of me.
"Exactly," said Grandma with a smile. "It's like life, Max. In life, you're given what you're given, and you've got to make the best with what you've got."
"When life gives you lemons..." Grandad said, taking a seat on the kitchen stool beside me.
"Make lemonade!" the three of us said happily together.
Years later, a terrible accident left me a paraplegic in a wheelchair, and in the midst of my initial struggle to accept the situation for what it was, Grandma's words from all those years ago echoed in my mind as if she'd only spoke them yesterday. In life, you're given what you're given, and you've got to make the best with what you've got.
It was the very next day, I met a young lad who'd been stuck in a chair his whole life, and was battling to accept himself with that chair. "Hey," I said, smiling as I approached. He looked up at me from the ground and seemed to relax when he saw that I too was in a chair."I know it's hard Buddy," I said, patting his shoulder.
"How long have you been stuck?" he asked.
"A few months," I said quietly, "but I'm getting used to it."
"I've been stuck my whole life and I still hate it."
"That's ok," I said, starting to laugh a little. "I know the feeling well. Everybody has those days where they hate it. You've just got to make lemonade."
"Make lemonade?" the young boy asked, staring at me wide eyed as if I looked really stupid.
"You know that old saying?" I asked, coming closer. "When life gives you lemonade..."
"Make lemonade!" he said enthusiastically before I could finish. "Oh, I get it now!" With that, I turned and left the young boy. It didn't feel like I'd said or done much, but I saw the smile our conversation had left on the young boy's face as I rolled away.
"Here, give me that basket you've got there," she said, holding out her hand.
"Grandma, what do you want lemons for?" I asked curiously as I sat on the cool green grass, watching her as she picked lemons from the tree and placed them carefully in the basket she held. Grandma was silent until she'd finished picking her lemons, then, she turned to face me and squatted down, offering her hand. I took it and she pulled me up.
"Why would I want lemons?" she asked, repeating my question from earlier as we slowly made our way back down the hill to the back door. I simply looked back at her when she glanced at me, not having any idea of the answer to my own question. I let out the breath I was unaware I'd been holding when Grandma spoke again.
"Well my boy," she said, resting an arm around my shoulder as we walked through the door. "Lemons as they are bitter, are they not?" I silently nodded my head in agreement. "But what happens when you take the juice and add a little sugar huh?"
"Lemonade!" I said excitedly as she set a pitcher of the freshly made liquid on the kitchen counter in front of me.
"Exactly," said Grandma with a smile. "It's like life, Max. In life, you're given what you're given, and you've got to make the best with what you've got."
"When life gives you lemons..." Grandad said, taking a seat on the kitchen stool beside me.
"Make lemonade!" the three of us said happily together.
Years later, a terrible accident left me a paraplegic in a wheelchair, and in the midst of my initial struggle to accept the situation for what it was, Grandma's words from all those years ago echoed in my mind as if she'd only spoke them yesterday. In life, you're given what you're given, and you've got to make the best with what you've got.
It was the very next day, I met a young lad who'd been stuck in a chair his whole life, and was battling to accept himself with that chair. "Hey," I said, smiling as I approached. He looked up at me from the ground and seemed to relax when he saw that I too was in a chair."I know it's hard Buddy," I said, patting his shoulder.
"How long have you been stuck?" he asked.
"A few months," I said quietly, "but I'm getting used to it."
"I've been stuck my whole life and I still hate it."
"That's ok," I said, starting to laugh a little. "I know the feeling well. Everybody has those days where they hate it. You've just got to make lemonade."
"Make lemonade?" the young boy asked, staring at me wide eyed as if I looked really stupid.
"You know that old saying?" I asked, coming closer. "When life gives you lemonade..."
"Make lemonade!" he said enthusiastically before I could finish. "Oh, I get it now!" With that, I turned and left the young boy. It didn't feel like I'd said or done much, but I saw the smile our conversation had left on the young boy's face as I rolled away.
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Silhouette
For as long as I've been alive, every year, there's a day when my family has been a little more tense than usual, and a tiny bit upset behind the scenes. I once had an uncle, but due to an unfortunate tragedy, he's an uncle I've never known. Though unseen, I can sense the empty silhouette his absence leaves behind. He seems like a pretty cool guy from the pictures I've seen, the stories I've heard. I think, were he here, he'd be that cool uncle that everyone talks about. The one with the cool car and the most awesome presents on birthdays The one who you could come to in tricky situations when you'd rather your parents not know. The one who's tough, and just generally cool.
He may not be here anymore, physically at least, but the empty silhouette lingers still, and it always will. He might be gone, but he'll never truly be gone. No one ever is, so long as those they left behind still think of them. Even when a person is gone, their memory can live forever. When I was younger, I used to like to think that when someone passed on, they weren't going anywhere, but instead gaining the power of invisibility, and I believe that's true for him. If I pay close enough attention, it sometimes feels like he's here, somewhere, with us still.
Sometimes things like ghosts vanish over time. The longer the period the more the ghost disappears, but I prefer thinking of his shadow still here somewhere, and as long as I'm around, I'm determined not to let that shadow fade, not to let the silhouette go away. He'll still be here in some form, always and forever.
He may not be here anymore, physically at least, but the empty silhouette lingers still, and it always will. He might be gone, but he'll never truly be gone. No one ever is, so long as those they left behind still think of them. Even when a person is gone, their memory can live forever. When I was younger, I used to like to think that when someone passed on, they weren't going anywhere, but instead gaining the power of invisibility, and I believe that's true for him. If I pay close enough attention, it sometimes feels like he's here, somewhere, with us still.
Sometimes things like ghosts vanish over time. The longer the period the more the ghost disappears, but I prefer thinking of his shadow still here somewhere, and as long as I'm around, I'm determined not to let that shadow fade, not to let the silhouette go away. He'll still be here in some form, always and forever.
Friday, September 5, 2014
Trip Of A Lifetime
Naturally, my curiosity is going to grow when there's a large crowd gathered round. As I approach, I notice more people trying to push in and others who are simply trying to see what all the fuss is about. I'm one of those people, and, being the small person I am, I don't expect to have a problem squeezing through. All I want is a look, then I'll go and let someone else take my place. Like I said, natural curiosity. Besides, Everyone's a sticky beak at some point or another. Right?
Without any real effort on my part, I feel my jaw drop a few centimetres as I lay eyes on the focal point of the crowd. On the brick wall is a notice, typed clearly on an A4 piece of paper in black ink.
The Chance To Win The Trip Of A Lifetime
One lucky person will win the chance to take a trip beyond one's wildest dreams. For your chance to win, answer in fifty words or less; what you would do given the chance to time travel anywhere in the universe?
I make sure to commit to my memory where entries should be sent to as I turn away and push through the crowd, who are abruptly moving in the opposite direction to fill the now vacant space my departure creates.
The competition's question lingers in my mind as I make my way home. What would I do given the chance to go anywhere? There's so many things I could do. Correct mistakes I always wished I hadn't made, erase regret, simply relive a happy time in my life. The possibilities are so endless that it seems near impossible to select just one. This concept they talk about seems all like a good dream. Like it must be a dream because it's way too good to be true. There's a million things you could do with a chance like this. But that's the thing, there's only a chance. Just one. So I suppose you can see now what a difficult situation it is that I'm faced with.
For days now I've been trying to work out how I should answer this question, because this competition is one I wouldn't mind winning. Who would mind winning a competition like that? Really? To my great surprise, an idea comes to me, just about when I was was starting to give up. So, what would I do with the trip of a lifetime I hear you ask? I would go back to a time when all of my family was together and happy in order to relive it again. Though, if I'm honest, I think the real question is, what would you do wit the trip of a lifetime?
Without any real effort on my part, I feel my jaw drop a few centimetres as I lay eyes on the focal point of the crowd. On the brick wall is a notice, typed clearly on an A4 piece of paper in black ink.
The Chance To Win The Trip Of A Lifetime
One lucky person will win the chance to take a trip beyond one's wildest dreams. For your chance to win, answer in fifty words or less; what you would do given the chance to time travel anywhere in the universe?
I make sure to commit to my memory where entries should be sent to as I turn away and push through the crowd, who are abruptly moving in the opposite direction to fill the now vacant space my departure creates.
The competition's question lingers in my mind as I make my way home. What would I do given the chance to go anywhere? There's so many things I could do. Correct mistakes I always wished I hadn't made, erase regret, simply relive a happy time in my life. The possibilities are so endless that it seems near impossible to select just one. This concept they talk about seems all like a good dream. Like it must be a dream because it's way too good to be true. There's a million things you could do with a chance like this. But that's the thing, there's only a chance. Just one. So I suppose you can see now what a difficult situation it is that I'm faced with.
For days now I've been trying to work out how I should answer this question, because this competition is one I wouldn't mind winning. Who would mind winning a competition like that? Really? To my great surprise, an idea comes to me, just about when I was was starting to give up. So, what would I do with the trip of a lifetime I hear you ask? I would go back to a time when all of my family was together and happy in order to relive it again. Though, if I'm honest, I think the real question is, what would you do wit the trip of a lifetime?
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
I'm Glad You're Still Here
I shake my head at what I'm hearing. I certainly understand why., but... If I'm honest, I've probably been there too, but.. I shake my head again, blinking as I look around me. I feel so sorry that such awful things had to happen to such wonderful, non-deserving people and I can't help but wish, and to wonder why I wasn't there earlier. Why couldn't I have been there to show them someone was still there? Why couldn't I have just been there, full stop?
I shake my head as I try to rid my mind of the onslaught of thoughts. This shouldn't be about me, but the thoughts keep rushing. They're screaming, demanding to be heard. As if it had actually happened, like they'd gone through with it, all the thoughts seem to be why. Why didn't I know them earlier? Why couldn't I have been there to show them they weren't alone? Why couldn't I have done something? Anything, to help?
As the conversation continues to flow in the room, I slowly come back from my own world of thoughts and sit quietly listening as my mind finally comes to a conclusion of sorts. "Can I... Can I just say something?" I ask after a while of silence. My voice is almost a whisper with the shock of the earlier confessions as everyone turns to look at me. "I.. I'm glad you're still here."
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If you're having a hard time, or you're worried about a friend or family member, help is available. You can go to headspace.org.au or contact Lifeline on 13 11 14.
I shake my head as I try to rid my mind of the onslaught of thoughts. This shouldn't be about me, but the thoughts keep rushing. They're screaming, demanding to be heard. As if it had actually happened, like they'd gone through with it, all the thoughts seem to be why. Why didn't I know them earlier? Why couldn't I have been there to show them they weren't alone? Why couldn't I have done something? Anything, to help?
As the conversation continues to flow in the room, I slowly come back from my own world of thoughts and sit quietly listening as my mind finally comes to a conclusion of sorts. "Can I... Can I just say something?" I ask after a while of silence. My voice is almost a whisper with the shock of the earlier confessions as everyone turns to look at me. "I.. I'm glad you're still here."
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If you're having a hard time, or you're worried about a friend or family member, help is available. You can go to headspace.org.au or contact Lifeline on 13 11 14.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
I'm Still Breathing
"M.. Mum?" she asks weakly, looking around as her eyes flutter open.
"Maisy?" her mother says in a whisper, a few tears rolling down from her eyes as she slips into the chair beside the bed and clasps her daughter's hands, squeezing tightly.
"Mum, where am I?"
"There was a bit of a complication with the operation Sweetie."
"Complication?" Maisy repeats. "What sort of complication?"
"You lost a lot of blood," says her mother quietly. "We could have lost you Maisy."
"Oh," says Maisy. "I'm still here though."
"Yeah, you're are. We're only lucky the doctors could figure it out in time and fixed it. You're still here, with us."
"Mum, I'm sorry," says Maisy suddenly, tears falling from her own eyes.
"What for?" her mother asks, reaching for her daughter's hand. "Maisy, you haven't got anything to be sorry for."
"Everything," Maisy says, so quietly it's barely audible. "I'm sorry for everything I ever did. And Mum, I love you."
"I love you too Maisy," says her mother, crying too. "I never thought I was going to get to say that again. But what's this all of a sudden? You never used to say those sorts of things before."
"Exactly that," Maisy says simply.
"What?"
"What did you just say Mum?"
"What?"
Maisy shook her head. "Try again."
"Ok... Um, I never thought I was going to get to say that again?"
Maisy simply nods. "I'm still breathing Mum. I've been given a second chance. I took life for granted before, but I know how precious it is now. I've been given a second chance at it, and I promise you, I'm not going to waste it this time."
"Maisy, honey, you weren't wasting it before.."
"But I wasn't really living either, just existing," Maisy says, holding her mother's gaze. "This time, I'm going to really live."
"That's good honey," her mother says uncertainly.
"I've got a second chance," says Maisy, blinking as the reality sinks in. "I'm still breathing."
"Maisy?" her mother says in a whisper, a few tears rolling down from her eyes as she slips into the chair beside the bed and clasps her daughter's hands, squeezing tightly.
"Mum, where am I?"
"There was a bit of a complication with the operation Sweetie."
"Complication?" Maisy repeats. "What sort of complication?"
"You lost a lot of blood," says her mother quietly. "We could have lost you Maisy."
"Oh," says Maisy. "I'm still here though."
"Yeah, you're are. We're only lucky the doctors could figure it out in time and fixed it. You're still here, with us."
"Mum, I'm sorry," says Maisy suddenly, tears falling from her own eyes.
"What for?" her mother asks, reaching for her daughter's hand. "Maisy, you haven't got anything to be sorry for."
"Everything," Maisy says, so quietly it's barely audible. "I'm sorry for everything I ever did. And Mum, I love you."
"I love you too Maisy," says her mother, crying too. "I never thought I was going to get to say that again. But what's this all of a sudden? You never used to say those sorts of things before."
"Exactly that," Maisy says simply.
"What?"
"What did you just say Mum?"
"What?"
Maisy shook her head. "Try again."
"Ok... Um, I never thought I was going to get to say that again?"
Maisy simply nods. "I'm still breathing Mum. I've been given a second chance. I took life for granted before, but I know how precious it is now. I've been given a second chance at it, and I promise you, I'm not going to waste it this time."
"Maisy, honey, you weren't wasting it before.."
"But I wasn't really living either, just existing," Maisy says, holding her mother's gaze. "This time, I'm going to really live."
"That's good honey," her mother says uncertainly.
"I've got a second chance," says Maisy, blinking as the reality sinks in. "I'm still breathing."
Monday, August 11, 2014
Surprise!
Her eyes didn't stray from the screen once since the play button had been hit and the movie had begun. The face that filled the screen had the young girl hooked. She laughed uncontrollably at his funny faces and even the slightest hint of his comic prowess caused a smile to escape her lips.
The young girl's mother watched on, smiling too, though for different reasons. She let Rae watch his films because he was funny. She didn't let her watch all of them, only the ones for kids, of course. But oh, how she wished she could tell her the truth. Reveal the secret so she didn't have to keep it all to herself like she had been for these past 10 years.
Now, at seventeen, Rae was growing increasingly curious. All her life it had been just her and her mother. She'd never questioned it too much before, but now, all her friends, and even Rae herself, were more knowledgeable, and as a result, more curious than they had been when they were kids.
"Mum," she asked one night, on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. "What ever happened to my father? Why isn't he around like everybody else's fathers?"
"He..." her mother started to say, stopping herself before she ended up saying something she might regret later. "He's not here honey. Does it really matter where he is?"
"He's my Dad, Mum," Rae said, pleading in her eyes. "I want to know who he is."
"Maybe one day you'll find out." Said her mother. "Now, off to bed. You have a big day tomorrow."
Once her she'd left the room, Rae's mother let out a sigh of relief. Her daughter was getting smarter, and, she realised, she just couldn't hide it from her any longer. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone and dialed.
"Hello," she said once someone picked up, not missing a beat. "I need to speak with Adrian,"
"Doesn't everybody?" asked the man on the other end of the phone in a sarcastic tone of voice.
"You don't understand," she said, trying hard to keep a grip on her patience as it began to squirm in an attempt to get away. "My name is Gina. Gina White. I'm not sure that he'll remember me, but he knew me once, years ago. Please! I need to talk to him. It's important."
"Alright lady, alright. I'll see," said the man, reluctantly. "But I'm not making any promises."
"Fine," said Gina as the line went dead and she waited.
"He-lo," answered no one other than Adrian M. McLaurin a moment later in one of his trademark comical voices. Gina couldn't help but laugh as a wave of memories, good memories, from her time with him came flooding back.
"Adrian," she said once she'd regained a little composure. "Hello."
"What can I do for a lovely fan like yourself?" he asked.
"Adrian..." she stopped, realising what he'd said. "Adrian, I'm a fan, of course, but... do you remember me?"
"Remember you?" He asked. "Where would I remember you from?"
"Oh, around eighteen years ago," she said, trying to sound casual. When he said nothing, Gina went on. "The summer of about... 1996, you and I had a little fling."
"We did, did we?" he asked. "So, to what do I owe this lovely reminiscent little trip down memory lane?"
"Adrian, there's something I'm going to tell you, that I should have done years ago."
"Yes?" he asked, sitting down as he waited.
"Adrian you have a daughter," said Gina quickly after taking a breath.
"Wow," said Adrian after a long silence. "Does... Does she know? How old is she?"
"No," Gina said. "She doesn't know. Not yet. Her name is Rae and she'll be eighteen tomorrow. But Adrian, I'd like to ask a favour if I may."
"What is it?" Adrian asked, scooting to the edge of his seat. "Money?"
"No, nothing like that. Will.. Will you come to see her tomorrow? For her birthday? It'd be a dream come true for her."
"She doesn't know though, does she?"
"No, but she's grown up watching your films Adrian," Gina said. "You've made her laugh more times than I can count. She's watched your films over and over..."
"Alright," he said, letting out a heavy breath as if it were the most difficult task in the world to agree. "Always happy to oblige a fan."
Rae blinked at the sight before her, then started to shake her head. "A... Adrian?" she stuttered out. "Adrian M. McLaurin?"
He nodded, smiling at the happiness his simple presence had caused his daughter, even without her knowing the truth.
"Wow! I... I don't believe this! Mum how did you...?"
"Sweetie, you wanted to know who your Dad was.."
"Guess you'd better start calling me Dad," said Adrian, trying to relieve the tension with humour, as was often his tactic.
"Adrian M. McLaurin, the man I grew up watching on movies my entire childhood, is my father?" Rae asked, staring at her mother.
"It was my way of letting you see him without actually telling you," Gina said, her eyes falling to the floor. "Rae, you weren't old enough..."
"But he's my dad?" Rae asked, finally turning to look at him.
"Yes."
"Surprise!" said Adrian, comically throwing his hands out to the side, a big, goofy grin on his face.
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In memory of the late, great Robin Williams, whose comedy is a cherished memory of my childhood and hopefully, a man who's humour will be passed down through the generations for years to come. Rest In Peace.
The young girl's mother watched on, smiling too, though for different reasons. She let Rae watch his films because he was funny. She didn't let her watch all of them, only the ones for kids, of course. But oh, how she wished she could tell her the truth. Reveal the secret so she didn't have to keep it all to herself like she had been for these past 10 years.
Now, at seventeen, Rae was growing increasingly curious. All her life it had been just her and her mother. She'd never questioned it too much before, but now, all her friends, and even Rae herself, were more knowledgeable, and as a result, more curious than they had been when they were kids.
"Mum," she asked one night, on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. "What ever happened to my father? Why isn't he around like everybody else's fathers?"
"He..." her mother started to say, stopping herself before she ended up saying something she might regret later. "He's not here honey. Does it really matter where he is?"
"He's my Dad, Mum," Rae said, pleading in her eyes. "I want to know who he is."
"Maybe one day you'll find out." Said her mother. "Now, off to bed. You have a big day tomorrow."
Once her she'd left the room, Rae's mother let out a sigh of relief. Her daughter was getting smarter, and, she realised, she just couldn't hide it from her any longer. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone and dialed.
"Hello," she said once someone picked up, not missing a beat. "I need to speak with Adrian,"
"Doesn't everybody?" asked the man on the other end of the phone in a sarcastic tone of voice.
"You don't understand," she said, trying hard to keep a grip on her patience as it began to squirm in an attempt to get away. "My name is Gina. Gina White. I'm not sure that he'll remember me, but he knew me once, years ago. Please! I need to talk to him. It's important."
"Alright lady, alright. I'll see," said the man, reluctantly. "But I'm not making any promises."
"Fine," said Gina as the line went dead and she waited.
"He-lo," answered no one other than Adrian M. McLaurin a moment later in one of his trademark comical voices. Gina couldn't help but laugh as a wave of memories, good memories, from her time with him came flooding back.
"Adrian," she said once she'd regained a little composure. "Hello."
"What can I do for a lovely fan like yourself?" he asked.
"Adrian..." she stopped, realising what he'd said. "Adrian, I'm a fan, of course, but... do you remember me?"
"Remember you?" He asked. "Where would I remember you from?"
"Oh, around eighteen years ago," she said, trying to sound casual. When he said nothing, Gina went on. "The summer of about... 1996, you and I had a little fling."
"We did, did we?" he asked. "So, to what do I owe this lovely reminiscent little trip down memory lane?"
"Adrian, there's something I'm going to tell you, that I should have done years ago."
"Yes?" he asked, sitting down as he waited.
"Adrian you have a daughter," said Gina quickly after taking a breath.
"Wow," said Adrian after a long silence. "Does... Does she know? How old is she?"
"No," Gina said. "She doesn't know. Not yet. Her name is Rae and she'll be eighteen tomorrow. But Adrian, I'd like to ask a favour if I may."
"What is it?" Adrian asked, scooting to the edge of his seat. "Money?"
"No, nothing like that. Will.. Will you come to see her tomorrow? For her birthday? It'd be a dream come true for her."
"She doesn't know though, does she?"
"No, but she's grown up watching your films Adrian," Gina said. "You've made her laugh more times than I can count. She's watched your films over and over..."
"Alright," he said, letting out a heavy breath as if it were the most difficult task in the world to agree. "Always happy to oblige a fan."
Rae blinked at the sight before her, then started to shake her head. "A... Adrian?" she stuttered out. "Adrian M. McLaurin?"
He nodded, smiling at the happiness his simple presence had caused his daughter, even without her knowing the truth.
"Wow! I... I don't believe this! Mum how did you...?"
"Sweetie, you wanted to know who your Dad was.."
"Guess you'd better start calling me Dad," said Adrian, trying to relieve the tension with humour, as was often his tactic.
"Adrian M. McLaurin, the man I grew up watching on movies my entire childhood, is my father?" Rae asked, staring at her mother.
"It was my way of letting you see him without actually telling you," Gina said, her eyes falling to the floor. "Rae, you weren't old enough..."
"But he's my dad?" Rae asked, finally turning to look at him.
"Yes."
"Surprise!" said Adrian, comically throwing his hands out to the side, a big, goofy grin on his face.
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In memory of the late, great Robin Williams, whose comedy is a cherished memory of my childhood and hopefully, a man who's humour will be passed down through the generations for years to come. Rest In Peace.
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Own Little World
Any bad feeling simply melted away as she entered the room. She smiled as familiarity filled her senses. The loud music hitting her ears, the vibrations it's volume caused beneath her feet. She closed her eyes, slowly turning in a circle, arms out wide, allowing the music to fill her, immersing her completely. She could stay here forever. Here, in this room, with the music up loud, she felt like she was in a whole different world. A world where nothing could touch her and the endorphins flowed freely, like an endless supply.
"This is my zone," she'd say to her family. And she was right. Any other noise, but for the music that filled her room would be lost on her when she was in there, simply enjoying basking in the feelings the music gave her.
One afternoon, after a particularly long and stressful day, Jess could feel the tension rising within her. She couldn't keep the lid on the bottle for long, she knew, and so she knew where she had to go. She walked into the room, directly over to the stereo and turned it on. As the music washed over her, she felt all the tension, all the stress just wash away, and she lay on the lounge that sat against one wall, closing her eyes and allowing the music to completely engulf her, taking her somewhere far, far away.
With each song came somewhere new. During the first song, she imagined swimming in a lake in the middle of the night, with the stars and moon shining down on her, completely away from everyone, the world somewhere else entirely. The next one took her to the stands of a rodeo competition, where an entertaining fight broke out between long time rivals, after that, she found herself watching fish, floating gently through the sky among countless white, fluffy clouds, sitting with a group of children as a relative sat before them, singing and playing her guitar.
By the time the music stopped, Jess seemed, and felt, completely different. A little dose of her own world always did her good, she thought. She rose to her feet feeling refreshed, calm and revitalized, her happiness from earlier restored. In a way, music could be magic like that, and she knew, when the world got her down, a small little holiday to her own little world would always do her a world of good.
Friday, July 25, 2014
Safe Haven
The screams were so loud, he couldn't handle it a moment longer. He closed his eyes, longing to get away, and took a breath. The noise surrounding him, screams, shouts and all, just seemed to melt away as he began to run. Aimlessly allowing his feet to carry him wherever they may. Now, it was as if the screams were streets away, and he was hearing them from a distance. He didn't look back, didn't pause for even a second, allowing the gate to slam closed behind him as he ran. He ran faster, harder, as the thunder clouds began to roll in overhead and scream angrily to anyone who could hear.
Squatting down, hands on his knees as he panted for breath, the young boy felt a wave of calm wash over him as he saw the countless weeping willow trees surrounding him. Not knowing what else to do, he carefully climbed and into the trunk of the willow nearest to him. Closing his eyes and breathing a sigh of relief, the young boy finally started to relax.No one would find him here. He was safe now. As if to confirm this, as he closed his eyes, he could have sworn he heard the faint sound of singing in among the whisper off the wind through the weeping willows.
It was a long time before the young boy dared to chance a look out at the world beyond the safety of the willow, and by the time he did, night had fallen. The silver stars were out in force, twinkling and the moon shone down it's white light on the world. He imagined having winds and being able to fly up there, right up to the moon and around all the stars.
He could have stayed there forever, he thought. Not just there, among the safety of the weeping willows where no one would find him, but also in that moment, with the cool breeze swirling around him and engulfing him in it's embrace. the stars twinkling and moon shining harmlessly down at him from above.
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For Jordan Léser, who's music inspired this story.
Squatting down, hands on his knees as he panted for breath, the young boy felt a wave of calm wash over him as he saw the countless weeping willow trees surrounding him. Not knowing what else to do, he carefully climbed and into the trunk of the willow nearest to him. Closing his eyes and breathing a sigh of relief, the young boy finally started to relax.No one would find him here. He was safe now. As if to confirm this, as he closed his eyes, he could have sworn he heard the faint sound of singing in among the whisper off the wind through the weeping willows.
It was a long time before the young boy dared to chance a look out at the world beyond the safety of the willow, and by the time he did, night had fallen. The silver stars were out in force, twinkling and the moon shone down it's white light on the world. He imagined having winds and being able to fly up there, right up to the moon and around all the stars.
He could have stayed there forever, he thought. Not just there, among the safety of the weeping willows where no one would find him, but also in that moment, with the cool breeze swirling around him and engulfing him in it's embrace. the stars twinkling and moon shining harmlessly down at him from above.
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For Jordan Léser, who's music inspired this story.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Inspiration
The young girl's eyes were fixated on the dancers on the stage. She was completely mesmerised and utterly enthralled, not even noticing as her mouth slowly dropped open. At the end of the performance, the little girl stood, almost robotically, her eyes still glued to the dancers, now bowing as she clapped so hard her hands quickly turned red.
Her eyes lit up at the sight of the male dancer, surrounded by a crowd of people in the foyer outside the theatre. She tugged on her mother's arm. "Can I mum? Please?"
"I suppose Bailey," her mother said with a smile. She almost let go of her daughter's hand when she squeezed it and her daughter turned back to look at her. "But be a good girl Bailey, stand in line and wait your turn." Solemnly, Bailey nodded and her mother let go of her hand. Almost immediately, Bailey was gone, not giving her mother even a second to change her mind.
Bailey was still enchanted by the dancer as she watched him while waiting in line, and to her great suprise, the female dancer was there too, kneeling down so you could only see she was there from up close.
"H... Hi," she said, suddenly nervous when it was finally her turn.
"Hello,"sad the female dancer, offering her a friendly smile.
"Did you like the performance?" asked the male dancer, sinking to a kneeling position too.
"Yes," Bailey answered as she came forward, having found her words. "Very much so. You were beautiful," she said, returning the smile of the female dancer. "And so strong," she said, her smile unwavering as she looked at the male dancer.
"Thank you," said the dancers together.
"Would you like a picture?"
Bailey nodded, then frowned. "I.. I don't have a camera on me."
"That's ok," said the female dancer. "We have one. Come in between us." The dancers kindly motioned what Bailey presumed was a friend over, who took the picture. "We'll put it on our website," the friend told Bailey. "I'm sure you can find it from there."
"How can I be like you?" Bailey asked curiously, turning back to the male dancer.
"Determination, and lots of practice," he said. "It's not too late to start. My partner here started when she was three, but I didn't start until I was twelve," he said, and any nerves that had built up immediately dissipated.
Going away that day, Bailey took the dancer's words to heart. She really had meant what she'd said, and begged her mother to let her start ballet lessons. She was enrolled the very next week, and with the picture of herself with the ballet dancers sitting beside her bed as motivation, Bailey practiced with every spare moment she got.
Years later, Bailey had the same role as the female dancer in the very first ballet she'd seen, and she swelled with pride as she performed. This was a dream come true, and she only hoped she could inspire other young children as the dancers she'd watched had inspired her, though she remembered clearly what had enchanted her the most. The love story behind the ballet was what initially had her on the edge of her seat, and she was kept there both by the story and the dancers themselves, particularly the two leads. She and Drew, who had been cast as her partner on the ballet, had quickly become an item, and it was on grand opening night that she was to meet his parents for the first time. She'd heard they were legends, and dancers themselves, lending Drew some of their natural talent.
Bailey was amazed to discover the same two dancers who had inspired her all those years ago standing at the dressing room door, smiling at her partner. "Mum, Dad this is Bailey," Drew said. When she failed to respond at all, Drew came around corncern on his face. "Bailey, are you ok? What's wrong?"
She shook her head, snapping out of her trance quickly and meeting his gaze. "Drew, your parents were the ones who inspired me in the first place. "
Her eyes lit up at the sight of the male dancer, surrounded by a crowd of people in the foyer outside the theatre. She tugged on her mother's arm. "Can I mum? Please?"
"I suppose Bailey," her mother said with a smile. She almost let go of her daughter's hand when she squeezed it and her daughter turned back to look at her. "But be a good girl Bailey, stand in line and wait your turn." Solemnly, Bailey nodded and her mother let go of her hand. Almost immediately, Bailey was gone, not giving her mother even a second to change her mind.
Bailey was still enchanted by the dancer as she watched him while waiting in line, and to her great suprise, the female dancer was there too, kneeling down so you could only see she was there from up close.
"H... Hi," she said, suddenly nervous when it was finally her turn.
"Hello,"sad the female dancer, offering her a friendly smile.
"Did you like the performance?" asked the male dancer, sinking to a kneeling position too.
"Yes," Bailey answered as she came forward, having found her words. "Very much so. You were beautiful," she said, returning the smile of the female dancer. "And so strong," she said, her smile unwavering as she looked at the male dancer.
"Thank you," said the dancers together.
"Would you like a picture?"
Bailey nodded, then frowned. "I.. I don't have a camera on me."
"That's ok," said the female dancer. "We have one. Come in between us." The dancers kindly motioned what Bailey presumed was a friend over, who took the picture. "We'll put it on our website," the friend told Bailey. "I'm sure you can find it from there."
"How can I be like you?" Bailey asked curiously, turning back to the male dancer.
"Determination, and lots of practice," he said. "It's not too late to start. My partner here started when she was three, but I didn't start until I was twelve," he said, and any nerves that had built up immediately dissipated.
Going away that day, Bailey took the dancer's words to heart. She really had meant what she'd said, and begged her mother to let her start ballet lessons. She was enrolled the very next week, and with the picture of herself with the ballet dancers sitting beside her bed as motivation, Bailey practiced with every spare moment she got.
Years later, Bailey had the same role as the female dancer in the very first ballet she'd seen, and she swelled with pride as she performed. This was a dream come true, and she only hoped she could inspire other young children as the dancers she'd watched had inspired her, though she remembered clearly what had enchanted her the most. The love story behind the ballet was what initially had her on the edge of her seat, and she was kept there both by the story and the dancers themselves, particularly the two leads. She and Drew, who had been cast as her partner on the ballet, had quickly become an item, and it was on grand opening night that she was to meet his parents for the first time. She'd heard they were legends, and dancers themselves, lending Drew some of their natural talent.
Bailey was amazed to discover the same two dancers who had inspired her all those years ago standing at the dressing room door, smiling at her partner. "Mum, Dad this is Bailey," Drew said. When she failed to respond at all, Drew came around corncern on his face. "Bailey, are you ok? What's wrong?"
She shook her head, snapping out of her trance quickly and meeting his gaze. "Drew, your parents were the ones who inspired me in the first place. "
Words Of Wisdom
I couldn't help but smile at the look in my grandmother's eyes as she reached for my hand. "Hi Grandma," I said, sitting on the chair beside her bed in the hospital.
"Amy," she said, her voice so quiet and weak I could only just hear her. I offered my hand and she clutched it tight in both of her own.
"Amy, I won't be here much longer," she said, but I stopped her in her tracks.
"Please don't say that Grandma,"
"But there was something I wanted to tell you, dear," she said, as if I hadn't spoken at all. "You only get one chance at this. You only get one life." I said nothing, simply holding her gaze as I leaned in close, waiting for her to go on. "Amy, I want you to grab it, in both hands, and never let go. You've got to live with all you've got. When you're in my position, in many years to come, I don't want you to have a single regret. Can you do that for me?" I nodded solemnly. I would do anything for my Grandma. Though at the time, I didn't quite understand what she was asking of me. Not completely.
My grandmother left us not long after that heartfelt request, and walking away from her funeral, I vowed to keep my promise and fulfill her wish, and as I grew older, I began to understand just what she'd asked of me all those years ago. "Grandma," I'd ask, looking up at the sky. "Why did you ask this of me? It's impossible! How can I do the impossible."
It was as if she'd heard me, I thought, for a fresh gust of wind began to blow then, and I swear I could almost hear a whisper in the wind. "Amy," it said, "I believe in you. Do it for me." And it sounded just like Grandma too. Smiling, I continued on my way. I could do this. I had to. If for nothing else, than for my Grandma.
I still think Grandma heard me that day, because when I went home, I found things that answered the reason behind her request. I'd found Grandma's journal, which told a story of a love she'd lost, her dreams of the different paths she could have taken and how her life may have been different. The last entry, on the very last page of the journal had been written not too long before she'd gone.
Throughout my life, I have had many different choices. There have been many different paths I could have taken, and though I have wondered what would have happened had I taken those different paths, ultimately, I am happy with where I am, right now. I have lived a life which, when I look back and reflect upon it, I can be proud of, and leave behind with a smile.
So maybe Grandma didn't regret anything, I thhought after reading that. But I knew my Grandma, and I think that love she'd lost was something big for her. I think it was one of those things she'd wondered about if she'd taken the path, what if... I smiled at the thought when I realised the reasons behind her request. She was trying to save me from the same heartache that she had felt, the same regret, and for that I was grateful.
Out in the garden that afternoon, I looked up at the sky again. "For you Grandma," I said, smiling, "for you." Again, she could have heard me, for the sun beat down it's warmth a little more on me, and the birds began to sing.
"Amy," she said, her voice so quiet and weak I could only just hear her. I offered my hand and she clutched it tight in both of her own.
"Amy, I won't be here much longer," she said, but I stopped her in her tracks.
"Please don't say that Grandma,"
"But there was something I wanted to tell you, dear," she said, as if I hadn't spoken at all. "You only get one chance at this. You only get one life." I said nothing, simply holding her gaze as I leaned in close, waiting for her to go on. "Amy, I want you to grab it, in both hands, and never let go. You've got to live with all you've got. When you're in my position, in many years to come, I don't want you to have a single regret. Can you do that for me?" I nodded solemnly. I would do anything for my Grandma. Though at the time, I didn't quite understand what she was asking of me. Not completely.
My grandmother left us not long after that heartfelt request, and walking away from her funeral, I vowed to keep my promise and fulfill her wish, and as I grew older, I began to understand just what she'd asked of me all those years ago. "Grandma," I'd ask, looking up at the sky. "Why did you ask this of me? It's impossible! How can I do the impossible."
It was as if she'd heard me, I thought, for a fresh gust of wind began to blow then, and I swear I could almost hear a whisper in the wind. "Amy," it said, "I believe in you. Do it for me." And it sounded just like Grandma too. Smiling, I continued on my way. I could do this. I had to. If for nothing else, than for my Grandma.
I still think Grandma heard me that day, because when I went home, I found things that answered the reason behind her request. I'd found Grandma's journal, which told a story of a love she'd lost, her dreams of the different paths she could have taken and how her life may have been different. The last entry, on the very last page of the journal had been written not too long before she'd gone.
Throughout my life, I have had many different choices. There have been many different paths I could have taken, and though I have wondered what would have happened had I taken those different paths, ultimately, I am happy with where I am, right now. I have lived a life which, when I look back and reflect upon it, I can be proud of, and leave behind with a smile.
So maybe Grandma didn't regret anything, I thhought after reading that. But I knew my Grandma, and I think that love she'd lost was something big for her. I think it was one of those things she'd wondered about if she'd taken the path, what if... I smiled at the thought when I realised the reasons behind her request. She was trying to save me from the same heartache that she had felt, the same regret, and for that I was grateful.
Out in the garden that afternoon, I looked up at the sky again. "For you Grandma," I said, smiling, "for you." Again, she could have heard me, for the sun beat down it's warmth a little more on me, and the birds began to sing.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Choose Your Battles
She shook her head, allowing it to fall with a slap into her cupped hands as the young boy got down onto all fours on the ground, beginning to rock and make loud groaning sound. Everyone was starting to stare, and she couldn't think of anything else to do but close her eyes and breathe for a minute.
"Oh, Harry! Please!" she said in a whisper, kneeling beside him.
Feeling her near him, Harry extended his arm, beginning to throw it wildly through the air around him as if he were swatting a fly.
"Oh Harry, love, just listen to me," she said, edging away a little. "Look," she said putting her hands in the air. "I'm nowhere near you. Harry, please..."
There was silence for a few minutes but for Harry's continued groaning before he slowly looked up, finally meeting his mother's eyes.
"See? I couldn't touch you even if I wanted to. You're too far away."
Harry nodded in acknowledgment, continuing to hold her gaze as he waited for her to speak.
"Harry, you can't fight every single thing you come across." Harry rose to his feet. "But that man threw his cigarette butt on the ground. He did not dispose of it properly. He left it on the ground and that is illegal. He should be arrested," he said pointing accusingly at where the cigarette butt lay a few metres away before folding his arms across his chest.
"Well maybe, but that's not for us to say," said his mother.
"Smoking should be illegal," said Harry in response.
"It's not, Harry," she said, "and there's nothing we can do about it, so there's no use worrying, is there?"
At that, Harry got back down on the ground again, rocking and groaning. His mother let out a heavy breath and looked up at the sky before looking helplessly about her surroundings.
Spotting the seemingly distressed woman, a policeman approached. "Are you alright Ma'am?" he asked when he came close. "Is he alright?" he asked, eyeing Harry, still rocking on the ground and making groaning noises, though they were softer than before.
"He should be fine," said Harry's mother with a sigh. "He does this all the time. He's autistic"
"Oh," said the policeman. "I see."
"Mother, is that a policeman?" Harry asked, lifting his head ever so slightly from the ground. His mother didn't answer, for the sight that met Harry's eyes when he looked up further answered his question instead. "Oh good," he said, rising to his feet again. "Officer, there was a man, over there and he dropped his cigarette butt on the ground when he was smoking, and that is illegal. You should go and arrest him."
"That is bad," said the policeman, quickly winking at Harry's mother. "Thank you for reporting it, young man. I'll get on it straight away."
"Oh, and officer," Harry said as the policeman made to move away, but he turned back to face Harry. "Is smoking illegal?"
"I don't know son," said the policeman. "Perhaps."
"Well it should be," said Harry definitely. "Can you do that Officer? Can you make smoking illegal?"
"Well, i suppose I can work on it," said the policeman, walking away.
Harry turned back to his mother. "He was nice."
"Yes," said his mother, a tiny smile escaping her lips. "yes he was."
She shook her head as Harry noticed another piece of 'criminal activity' going on. Sighing, she picked up her pace to follow after him.
"Harry," she said, holding his gaze firmly. She would have liked to have held his shoulders, but she knew what that would result in. "You can't fight every single battle, love," she said.
"Why not?"
"Because no one can."
"But the policeman..."
"Harry, you need to choose your battles."
"What do you mean?"
"Choose your battles," repeated his mother. "because you can't fight every single one. So you need to choose which ones are the most important and fight them. Choose your battles."
"Oh." Was all Harry said.
"Oh, Harry! Please!" she said in a whisper, kneeling beside him.
Feeling her near him, Harry extended his arm, beginning to throw it wildly through the air around him as if he were swatting a fly.
"Oh Harry, love, just listen to me," she said, edging away a little. "Look," she said putting her hands in the air. "I'm nowhere near you. Harry, please..."
There was silence for a few minutes but for Harry's continued groaning before he slowly looked up, finally meeting his mother's eyes.
"See? I couldn't touch you even if I wanted to. You're too far away."
Harry nodded in acknowledgment, continuing to hold her gaze as he waited for her to speak.
"Harry, you can't fight every single thing you come across." Harry rose to his feet. "But that man threw his cigarette butt on the ground. He did not dispose of it properly. He left it on the ground and that is illegal. He should be arrested," he said pointing accusingly at where the cigarette butt lay a few metres away before folding his arms across his chest.
"Well maybe, but that's not for us to say," said his mother.
"Smoking should be illegal," said Harry in response.
"It's not, Harry," she said, "and there's nothing we can do about it, so there's no use worrying, is there?"
At that, Harry got back down on the ground again, rocking and groaning. His mother let out a heavy breath and looked up at the sky before looking helplessly about her surroundings.
Spotting the seemingly distressed woman, a policeman approached. "Are you alright Ma'am?" he asked when he came close. "Is he alright?" he asked, eyeing Harry, still rocking on the ground and making groaning noises, though they were softer than before.
"He should be fine," said Harry's mother with a sigh. "He does this all the time. He's autistic"
"Oh," said the policeman. "I see."
"Mother, is that a policeman?" Harry asked, lifting his head ever so slightly from the ground. His mother didn't answer, for the sight that met Harry's eyes when he looked up further answered his question instead. "Oh good," he said, rising to his feet again. "Officer, there was a man, over there and he dropped his cigarette butt on the ground when he was smoking, and that is illegal. You should go and arrest him."
"That is bad," said the policeman, quickly winking at Harry's mother. "Thank you for reporting it, young man. I'll get on it straight away."
"Oh, and officer," Harry said as the policeman made to move away, but he turned back to face Harry. "Is smoking illegal?"
"I don't know son," said the policeman. "Perhaps."
"Well it should be," said Harry definitely. "Can you do that Officer? Can you make smoking illegal?"
"Well, i suppose I can work on it," said the policeman, walking away.
Harry turned back to his mother. "He was nice."
"Yes," said his mother, a tiny smile escaping her lips. "yes he was."
She shook her head as Harry noticed another piece of 'criminal activity' going on. Sighing, she picked up her pace to follow after him.
"Harry," she said, holding his gaze firmly. She would have liked to have held his shoulders, but she knew what that would result in. "You can't fight every single battle, love," she said.
"Why not?"
"Because no one can."
"But the policeman..."
"Harry, you need to choose your battles."
"What do you mean?"
"Choose your battles," repeated his mother. "because you can't fight every single one. So you need to choose which ones are the most important and fight them. Choose your battles."
"Oh." Was all Harry said.
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Break The Rules
"Do you know when..." she started to say, pausing as she thought about what to say next. "when you see something, or something happens and it takes you right back? Back to, like, a time in your past that you haven't thought about for ages?"
"Oh!" he said, laughing a little. "One of those... Those blast from the past kind of things! Those are cool! Wait, good or bad?" He asked upon seeing her expression.
"I... I don't really know. It definitely took me back and made me think about things I haven't thought about in ages."
He stood, keeping eye contact but staying silent for having no idea of what to say.
"I didn't even know what to feel. Still don't know what to feel. It wad just..."
"It rocked ya," he said, nodding understandingly as she smiled gratefully back at him. "Ok, so from what I can gather, this person was involved in a part of your life you'd rather not revisit. Right?"
"I guess, yeah," she said.
"Can I tell you something?" He shuffled into a new standing position, waiting before she nodded in answer. "The other day, I had one of those blasts too. Only, mine was one of those ones where I desperately wanted to break those rules. The conflict of interest ones that say you can't help or take care of people you already know outside of work. I know why they're there, but..."
"For people like me," she answered.
"Exactly, but that's not the point."
"So what is?"
"Maybe it'll be your turn next time," he said, a smile on his face. "Maybe, next time, you'll want to break the rules."
"Yeah," she said, starting to smile herself. "I reckon there's a few people out there I'd be desperate to break the rules for."
"See?" he said. "Everybody has people they like and others they don't. All of us are bound to come across someone we don't like or who bring up stuff we'd rather not think about again. It just happened to you know, and do you know what I reckon?"
"What?"
"I reckon all of us'll have more people we want to break the rules for
"Oh!" he said, laughing a little. "One of those... Those blast from the past kind of things! Those are cool! Wait, good or bad?" He asked upon seeing her expression.
"I... I don't really know. It definitely took me back and made me think about things I haven't thought about in ages."
He stood, keeping eye contact but staying silent for having no idea of what to say.
"I didn't even know what to feel. Still don't know what to feel. It wad just..."
"It rocked ya," he said, nodding understandingly as she smiled gratefully back at him. "Ok, so from what I can gather, this person was involved in a part of your life you'd rather not revisit. Right?"
"I guess, yeah," she said.
"Can I tell you something?" He shuffled into a new standing position, waiting before she nodded in answer. "The other day, I had one of those blasts too. Only, mine was one of those ones where I desperately wanted to break those rules. The conflict of interest ones that say you can't help or take care of people you already know outside of work. I know why they're there, but..."
"For people like me," she answered.
"Exactly, but that's not the point."
"So what is?"
"Maybe it'll be your turn next time," he said, a smile on his face. "Maybe, next time, you'll want to break the rules."
"Yeah," she said, starting to smile herself. "I reckon there's a few people out there I'd be desperate to break the rules for."
"See?" he said. "Everybody has people they like and others they don't. All of us are bound to come across someone we don't like or who bring up stuff we'd rather not think about again. It just happened to you know, and do you know what I reckon?"
"What?"
"I reckon all of us'll have more people we want to break the rules for
Monday, July 7, 2014
Secret Life
The dogs ran quickly, chasing each other round the grassy area of the park, pausing to rub their noses and sniff one another every now and again before resuming play.
On the park bench not too far away, their young owners sat, talking them and watching their dogs play. The girls were neighbours, and over time they'd developed this routine. Every day, one would knock on the others door and they'd do their homework together before leashing up their dogs and taking them out.
Though the girls, Ida and Kelly enjoyed it, it was debatable who enjoyed it more. The girls, or the dogs. Unknown to their human companions, the dogs shared a secret. What secret? Unknown to the girls, or their families, Daisy and Pal met up again, at night, once a day. After they were certain everyone in their household was asleep, only just asleep so there wasn't a real possibility of them waking up again anytime soon, they'd sneak out. The two would meet on the street corner, rub noses and run across the road and into the bushes on the other side.
Hidden deep in the woods, well away from the world and safe from prying eyes was a small shack. And every night, within an hour of the last time, two people; a man and a woman, would emerge from the shack's front door, slipping seamlessly out into the world.
A few nights later, a tired Kelly noticed Pal heading for the door, and worried about where he might go, decided to follow. She quickly pulled on her slippers and padded as quietly as she could after her furry friend.
Kelly followed him as he came to the street corner and waited, hiding behind the side of the nearest house in case Pal were to look back and saw Daisy come to meet him. She followed them across the street and into the woods.
Kelly flattened herself against a wall of the shack the dogs led her to, peering cautiously around the corner as one after the other, Pal and Daisy squeezed past a loose wooden board to enter the shack. Taking a breath, she decided it was safe to come out and as quietly as she could, Kelly emerged from her hiding spot and dashed quickly to a nearby window, tightly gripping the sill with her fingers a she bent her knees just a little so that should anyone look, she could crouch down completely, out of sight and if anyone did catch her, from the inside, the most they would see were her eyes.
Too lost in what she was seeing to notice what she was doing, Kelly's mouth dropped open, forming a small 'o' that grew wider with each passing second. Inside, Daisy and Pal were miraculously changing shape. Slowly, they morphed and after a few minutes, they were no longer dogs, but humans.
Kelly was unable to stop blinking at what she'd just witnessed as she ran back home, her mouth still stuck in the 'o' that had formed when she'd been watching through the window.
She was practically jumping on the spot as she waited for Ida to answer the door after school. "You are never going to guess what I saw last night!" she said excitedly, jumping even more as her friend opened the door.
"What?" Ida asked in an anticipative whisper as she pulled her inside.
"Pal and Daisy," Kelly said, the smile inerasable from her face. "It's not like we think."
"What?"
"Pal and Daisy..." Kelly said, pausing for dramatic effect. "Are people!"
"Meet me on the corner tonight," Kelly continued on her friend's confused look. "I'll show you."
Ida's eyes widened, her mouth dropping at what she saw when they watched through the window, just as Kelly's had the night before.
"See?" she asked, hands on hips when Ida finally pulled herself away from the window and turned back to her friend.
"You were right," she said breathlessly before getting excited. "I don't believe it! This.. This is so awesome!" As they wandered slowly back home, Ida and Kelly made a plan. They'd return the following night and film what they'd seen through the window. Then, they'd show their parents.
Kelly's mother visibly shuddered at the sight her daughter was showing her.
"Ugh! That's disgusting! Turn it off!" her father ordered loudly.
"That thing is too weird!" said her mother. "It's got to go!"
"What?" Kelly asked, her face falling.
"Wow!" said Ida's father, eyes lighting up at the sight. "That's.. That's... I can't find the right word to describe it, but..."
"You said Daisy was always your best friend sweetie," her mother said with a smile. "Now she really can be!"
"We can still keep her?" Ida asked, giving her parents the 'puppy dog eyes', not wanting to get her hopes up before it was confirmed.
"Yes Ida," said her mother, smile widening. "We're not going to tear you away from your best friend. "
"Yes!" Isla said, practically squealing as she jumped around in her happy daze. "You two are the best! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"
"Mum says Pal's got to go," Kelly told her friend, watching her dog with sad eyes as he played with Daisy.
"What?" Ida asked, covering her mouth with her hand as it formed a small 'o' of shocked surprise.
"She doesn't want a 'freak of nature' in her house."
"What did you Dad say?"
"What Mum says goes," Kelly answered, shoulder slumping.
"I'm sure there's a way," Ida said hopefully, resting a gentle hand on her friend's knee as she looks up to meet her eyes. "Why don't you try catching Pal when he comes out of the shack tonight?"
The next time Ida saw her friend, she had a smile on her face. "I'm guessing it all worked out then."
"Yep," Kelly said. "Pal's going to live in the shack, and I can still come see him."
"What are you going to tell your parents."
"Pal will 'run away' from home."
"Ah," Ida said, returning the smile. "Very clever. And everyone's happy. We get pet dogs and best friends!" Ida and Kelly high fived one another as the full extent of the smiles they'd been suppressing erupted on their faces for sheer joy. Just at that moment, Daisy and Pal came racing up to them, stopping at their owner's feet and vigorously wagging their tails. When they bent down to pat them, Daisy and Pal caught the girl's hands before they touched their fur, starting to lick them and the girls threw their heads back in laughter. Everyone was happy. The happiest they'd ever been in their lives.
On the park bench not too far away, their young owners sat, talking them and watching their dogs play. The girls were neighbours, and over time they'd developed this routine. Every day, one would knock on the others door and they'd do their homework together before leashing up their dogs and taking them out.
Though the girls, Ida and Kelly enjoyed it, it was debatable who enjoyed it more. The girls, or the dogs. Unknown to their human companions, the dogs shared a secret. What secret? Unknown to the girls, or their families, Daisy and Pal met up again, at night, once a day. After they were certain everyone in their household was asleep, only just asleep so there wasn't a real possibility of them waking up again anytime soon, they'd sneak out. The two would meet on the street corner, rub noses and run across the road and into the bushes on the other side.
Hidden deep in the woods, well away from the world and safe from prying eyes was a small shack. And every night, within an hour of the last time, two people; a man and a woman, would emerge from the shack's front door, slipping seamlessly out into the world.
A few nights later, a tired Kelly noticed Pal heading for the door, and worried about where he might go, decided to follow. She quickly pulled on her slippers and padded as quietly as she could after her furry friend.
Kelly followed him as he came to the street corner and waited, hiding behind the side of the nearest house in case Pal were to look back and saw Daisy come to meet him. She followed them across the street and into the woods.
Kelly flattened herself against a wall of the shack the dogs led her to, peering cautiously around the corner as one after the other, Pal and Daisy squeezed past a loose wooden board to enter the shack. Taking a breath, she decided it was safe to come out and as quietly as she could, Kelly emerged from her hiding spot and dashed quickly to a nearby window, tightly gripping the sill with her fingers a she bent her knees just a little so that should anyone look, she could crouch down completely, out of sight and if anyone did catch her, from the inside, the most they would see were her eyes.
Too lost in what she was seeing to notice what she was doing, Kelly's mouth dropped open, forming a small 'o' that grew wider with each passing second. Inside, Daisy and Pal were miraculously changing shape. Slowly, they morphed and after a few minutes, they were no longer dogs, but humans.
Kelly was unable to stop blinking at what she'd just witnessed as she ran back home, her mouth still stuck in the 'o' that had formed when she'd been watching through the window.
She was practically jumping on the spot as she waited for Ida to answer the door after school. "You are never going to guess what I saw last night!" she said excitedly, jumping even more as her friend opened the door.
"What?" Ida asked in an anticipative whisper as she pulled her inside.
"Pal and Daisy," Kelly said, the smile inerasable from her face. "It's not like we think."
"What?"
"Pal and Daisy..." Kelly said, pausing for dramatic effect. "Are people!"
"Meet me on the corner tonight," Kelly continued on her friend's confused look. "I'll show you."
Ida's eyes widened, her mouth dropping at what she saw when they watched through the window, just as Kelly's had the night before.
"See?" she asked, hands on hips when Ida finally pulled herself away from the window and turned back to her friend.
"You were right," she said breathlessly before getting excited. "I don't believe it! This.. This is so awesome!" As they wandered slowly back home, Ida and Kelly made a plan. They'd return the following night and film what they'd seen through the window. Then, they'd show their parents.
Kelly's mother visibly shuddered at the sight her daughter was showing her.
"Ugh! That's disgusting! Turn it off!" her father ordered loudly.
"That thing is too weird!" said her mother. "It's got to go!"
"What?" Kelly asked, her face falling.
"Wow!" said Ida's father, eyes lighting up at the sight. "That's.. That's... I can't find the right word to describe it, but..."
"You said Daisy was always your best friend sweetie," her mother said with a smile. "Now she really can be!"
"We can still keep her?" Ida asked, giving her parents the 'puppy dog eyes', not wanting to get her hopes up before it was confirmed.
"Yes Ida," said her mother, smile widening. "We're not going to tear you away from your best friend. "
"Yes!" Isla said, practically squealing as she jumped around in her happy daze. "You two are the best! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"
"Mum says Pal's got to go," Kelly told her friend, watching her dog with sad eyes as he played with Daisy.
"What?" Ida asked, covering her mouth with her hand as it formed a small 'o' of shocked surprise.
"She doesn't want a 'freak of nature' in her house."
"What did you Dad say?"
"What Mum says goes," Kelly answered, shoulder slumping.
"I'm sure there's a way," Ida said hopefully, resting a gentle hand on her friend's knee as she looks up to meet her eyes. "Why don't you try catching Pal when he comes out of the shack tonight?"
The next time Ida saw her friend, she had a smile on her face. "I'm guessing it all worked out then."
"Yep," Kelly said. "Pal's going to live in the shack, and I can still come see him."
"What are you going to tell your parents."
"Pal will 'run away' from home."
"Ah," Ida said, returning the smile. "Very clever. And everyone's happy. We get pet dogs and best friends!" Ida and Kelly high fived one another as the full extent of the smiles they'd been suppressing erupted on their faces for sheer joy. Just at that moment, Daisy and Pal came racing up to them, stopping at their owner's feet and vigorously wagging their tails. When they bent down to pat them, Daisy and Pal caught the girl's hands before they touched their fur, starting to lick them and the girls threw their heads back in laughter. Everyone was happy. The happiest they'd ever been in their lives.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Couldn't Wait
As sad as the occasion was, even after all this time had passed, Nuala still managed to muster a smile, for her friend. "Hey Angela," she said softly, slowly coming to sit on the grass under the tree. "So I haven't come in a while. I know that's bad, and I'm sorry. I know what you'd be saying though." Nuala smiled at the thought of her friend and even laughed a little. "You'd be saying, 'you're here now, and you came back. That's what matters.' I can almost hear you saying it too." She looked up at the sky then down at the grass, trailing her finger along the outline of the stone. "I miss you Ange. I wish you were still here."
For a while after that, Nuala just sat there in silence. So slowly that she didn't realise it was happening before it had, she had allowed herself to get lost completely in her train of thoughts. Suddenly, Nuala became aware of one particular question that persistently floated back into her head. And the question was a quite simple one. Why? Why did bad things happen to good people? Why did the universe let it? Why couldn't bad things happen to bad people and good things happen to good, like karma? Why did the world seem so unfair sometimes? Why? Just, why? But then, as she thought about it, Nuala realised that there were reasons for everything.
"You know something Angela?" After a long time where the only sound that could be heard was the whispering of the wind through the trees, Nuala spoke again, deciding that silence had gone on long enough. "I get it. It didn't seem fair to me that the world had taken you, but I think I get it now. Heaven couldn't wait any longer for you," she said, smiling as she did, as if her voicing it really cemented it and hearing it out loud made it make sense. "And h.. h... he'll," Nuala said, shuddering as she said the word, not liking it and knowing her friend wouldn't either. "They're giving people like Devina, remember her? Anyway, they're giving people like her more time to show they're good. But heaven didn't need to give you more time. They knew you were good. You've always been good. You were so good, in fact Angie, that heaven couldn't wait any longer for you."
For a while after that, Nuala just sat there in silence. So slowly that she didn't realise it was happening before it had, she had allowed herself to get lost completely in her train of thoughts. Suddenly, Nuala became aware of one particular question that persistently floated back into her head. And the question was a quite simple one. Why? Why did bad things happen to good people? Why did the universe let it? Why couldn't bad things happen to bad people and good things happen to good, like karma? Why did the world seem so unfair sometimes? Why? Just, why? But then, as she thought about it, Nuala realised that there were reasons for everything.
"You know something Angela?" After a long time where the only sound that could be heard was the whispering of the wind through the trees, Nuala spoke again, deciding that silence had gone on long enough. "I get it. It didn't seem fair to me that the world had taken you, but I think I get it now. Heaven couldn't wait any longer for you," she said, smiling as she did, as if her voicing it really cemented it and hearing it out loud made it make sense. "And h.. h... he'll," Nuala said, shuddering as she said the word, not liking it and knowing her friend wouldn't either. "They're giving people like Devina, remember her? Anyway, they're giving people like her more time to show they're good. But heaven didn't need to give you more time. They knew you were good. You've always been good. You were so good, in fact Angie, that heaven couldn't wait any longer for you."
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
I Kissed A Girl
"How'd it go?" her father asked and she started twisting her foot, staring at it instead of meeting her father's gaze. "Jill?" he asked again.
"What?" Jill asked, finally looking up at him. "Oh, it went well."
"Was he nice?"
"Uh..." Jill said, unsure. "Yeah, really nice."
"Well, he did pick you up and drop you home," he said, more to himself than to Jill, but she could still hear.
"Hey Cherry!" her mother said, with probably a little more enthusiasm than required. "How'd it go? Tell me everything!"
"It was cool," said Cherry, offering a weak smile in an attempt to defuse the awkwardness. "We'll probably do it again," she said. "Wait, that came out wrong. We'll probably go out again."
"Did you have fun?" her mother asked.
'The time of our lives,' Cherry thought, but didn't say it.
"Well you must have if you're going out again!" her mother said. more to herself. "You are going out again.. right?" she asked, looking at her daughter.
"More than likely," Cherry said, unable to stop the smile from escaping her lips.
"Will you be seeing him again?" Jill's father asked.
"Yeah, I suppose," Jill said, staring at her shoe again. "I mean, I think he liked me."
"I suppose that's good," her father said uncertainly.
"Yeah Dad," said Jill, "It's good. It means your daughter's happy. Don't you want me to be happy?"
"Of course I..." he said. "Jillian, what sort of a question is that? Of course I want you to be happy!"
"That's what I'd thought," she said, folding her arms across her chest.
"I am so excited for you Cherry! It's finally happening!" her mother said, approaching her with her arms spread wide. "My little baby isn't my baby anymore!" Cherry simply closed her eyes and let out a breath as her mother engulfed her, squeezing her so hard she nearly couldn't breathe. She pulled away as she felt wetness on her shoulder.
"Mum, are you crying?" she asked.
"How can I not?" asked her mother, sniffling. "My little baby's growing up."
"But you do know the rules, right Jill?" Her father asked as she had almost reached the stairs. Jill stopped in her tracks, turning around to face him. "What rules?"
"The rules of relationships," said her father seriously, "and my specifically, relationships whilst you are under my roof."
Jill just looked at him silently, waiting for him to go on.
"Firstly, there is no going out on a school night, secondly, there will be no 'third bases' as you call them, of any kind, under any circumstance." Jill rolled her eyes. "And thirdly, if they begin to treat you poorly, in any way, you are to end it."
"Dad!" Jill groaned.
"Do you understand?" he asked, ignoring the fact that she'd spoken.
"Yes Dad," she said, sounding a little bored. "I understand."
"Good."
"Do you know what you'll wear?" her mother asked.
"Mum.. I don't even know for sure if we're going out again, let alone when."
"Ooh, you need to wear something that'll show off your figure," her mother went on as if Cherry had never spoken. "You're very shapely you know. A million girls would love to look like you!" Her mother turned back to her after inspecting her wardrobe. "Pink! Pink or red! Those are your best colours. And do you know what that means?"
"What?" Cherry asked, nowhere near as enthusiastic as her mother. It felt a little like the roles were reversed and her mother were the one going on the date instead of Cherry.
"Shopping!" her mother practically yelled.
"Whoopee!" Cherry said sarcastically.
"What?"
"Mum, I do have pink and red in my wardrobe, look," she said, pulling out the sole pink and the sole red outfits she owned and holding them up.
"Maybe, but that's not even a splash!" said her mother, disappointed. "Shopping!"
"Dad," Jill said, turning back to him from a couple of steps up the staircase. "Dad, there's something you should know."
"What is it Jill?" he asked, his eyes widening in a mix of concern and curiosity. "About the date?"
Jill nodded. "Dad, I kissed a girl,"
"And I liked it," Cherry finished as she let go of a heavy breath.
"My. My baby is all grown up now huh?" her mother asked after a moment, blinking.
"What?" Jill asked, finally looking up at him. "Oh, it went well."
"Was he nice?"
"Uh..." Jill said, unsure. "Yeah, really nice."
"Well, he did pick you up and drop you home," he said, more to himself than to Jill, but she could still hear.
"Hey Cherry!" her mother said, with probably a little more enthusiasm than required. "How'd it go? Tell me everything!"
"It was cool," said Cherry, offering a weak smile in an attempt to defuse the awkwardness. "We'll probably do it again," she said. "Wait, that came out wrong. We'll probably go out again."
"Did you have fun?" her mother asked.
'The time of our lives,' Cherry thought, but didn't say it.
"Well you must have if you're going out again!" her mother said. more to herself. "You are going out again.. right?" she asked, looking at her daughter.
"More than likely," Cherry said, unable to stop the smile from escaping her lips.
"Will you be seeing him again?" Jill's father asked.
"Yeah, I suppose," Jill said, staring at her shoe again. "I mean, I think he liked me."
"I suppose that's good," her father said uncertainly.
"Yeah Dad," said Jill, "It's good. It means your daughter's happy. Don't you want me to be happy?"
"Of course I..." he said. "Jillian, what sort of a question is that? Of course I want you to be happy!"
"That's what I'd thought," she said, folding her arms across her chest.
"I am so excited for you Cherry! It's finally happening!" her mother said, approaching her with her arms spread wide. "My little baby isn't my baby anymore!" Cherry simply closed her eyes and let out a breath as her mother engulfed her, squeezing her so hard she nearly couldn't breathe. She pulled away as she felt wetness on her shoulder.
"Mum, are you crying?" she asked.
"How can I not?" asked her mother, sniffling. "My little baby's growing up."
"But you do know the rules, right Jill?" Her father asked as she had almost reached the stairs. Jill stopped in her tracks, turning around to face him. "What rules?"
"The rules of relationships," said her father seriously, "and my specifically, relationships whilst you are under my roof."
Jill just looked at him silently, waiting for him to go on.
"Firstly, there is no going out on a school night, secondly, there will be no 'third bases' as you call them, of any kind, under any circumstance." Jill rolled her eyes. "And thirdly, if they begin to treat you poorly, in any way, you are to end it."
"Dad!" Jill groaned.
"Do you understand?" he asked, ignoring the fact that she'd spoken.
"Yes Dad," she said, sounding a little bored. "I understand."
"Good."
"Do you know what you'll wear?" her mother asked.
"Mum.. I don't even know for sure if we're going out again, let alone when."
"Ooh, you need to wear something that'll show off your figure," her mother went on as if Cherry had never spoken. "You're very shapely you know. A million girls would love to look like you!" Her mother turned back to her after inspecting her wardrobe. "Pink! Pink or red! Those are your best colours. And do you know what that means?"
"What?" Cherry asked, nowhere near as enthusiastic as her mother. It felt a little like the roles were reversed and her mother were the one going on the date instead of Cherry.
"Shopping!" her mother practically yelled.
"Whoopee!" Cherry said sarcastically.
"What?"
"Mum, I do have pink and red in my wardrobe, look," she said, pulling out the sole pink and the sole red outfits she owned and holding them up.
"Maybe, but that's not even a splash!" said her mother, disappointed. "Shopping!"
"Dad," Jill said, turning back to him from a couple of steps up the staircase. "Dad, there's something you should know."
"What is it Jill?" he asked, his eyes widening in a mix of concern and curiosity. "About the date?"
Jill nodded. "Dad, I kissed a girl,"
"And I liked it," Cherry finished as she let go of a heavy breath.
"My. My baby is all grown up now huh?" her mother asked after a moment, blinking.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Test
She stood silently as the world passed by her, some in a rush, others enjoying the leisure of time to spare. No one who passed noticed her, perhaps due to her silence, perhaps because she seemed to blend into the wall like a chameleon. One could only guess.
"Hello," she called as someone approached, her voice soft and quiet. Maybe the reason the person passing by continued on unfazed, without even so much as a pause or a sideways glance. "Hello, I..." She tried again, stopping again with a heavy sigh as she realised not one person who had rushed by had stopped, nor even reacted. This wasn't such a rare thing. More of a regular occurrence and she was starting to wonder why she kept trying.
Because... Deep down, she knew there was an answer and it was only when the people were few and far between and the world seemed quiet that she allowed herself the time to think, and remember. There was, in fact, a reason she was still here. The only thing was, she had no idea. She knew she was here for a reason, but no idea what the reason was.
She must have fallen asleep, she realised, for she woke with a start, and to her surprise, there was a stranger crouching in front of her, peering back at her.
"Are you alright love?" Asked the stranger. "You look a little lonely."
"I am," she answered. "Or I suppose you could say was. I've got company now, don't I?"
"I guess you do," said the man, offering her a smile. "Mind if I take a seat?"
"Not at all. Go right ahead."
"How long have you been like this?" He asked and she turned to look at him, meeting his eyes. "When was the last time somebody talked to you?"
"Aside from you?" She asked quietly and he nodded. "Oh, it was a while ago," she said. "But I do remember it, sort of. Something had just happened, I don't know what. I must have passed out or something, because all of a sudden I was here."
"What did they tell you?"
"They said that I was here for a reason. But even after all this time, I still can't figure it out. I keep trying to talk to people, but..."
"They don't ever notice you?" The man asked gently.
"Exactly," she said with a gasp. "How... How did you know?"
"Because I've seen it before," he answered simply. "Honey, I hate to break it to you, but you're a ghost."
"A... A ghost? H... How do you know?"
"Because I'm one too. We have unfinished business here. We have to take care of it before we move on."
"So you.." She asked breathlessly.
"Yeah," he said, pulling something from his pocket. "But look darling, I know what I've got to do. I'm just trying to do it now, so you take this ok?" He said, slipping the object into her palm and curling her fingers back over it.
"What is it?" She asked holding it carefully. "It's good luck for us ghosts. So long as you have it, you'll have good luck in finding what you have to do, and doing it. But, be careful, and be warned. Should you loose it, your luck will turn the opposite way, and it'll all go downhill. You won't have chance at getting up there. That's why we're here, see. It's a test. To see if we are willing to work hard enough to get up there. We have to earn our place."
"But what about you?" She asked as he rose to his feet.
"Don't worry about me, little darlin'," he said, flashing another smile her way. "Good luck to you though."
She watched as he walked on, eventually, miraculously disappearing into a big bright light. But before he was engulfed completely by it, he took a moment to glance back, meeting her eyes and giving her one last, friendly, encouraging smile. As he slowly disappeared under her gaze, she finally allowed a small smile to escape her own lips. She knew what this meant. He'd passed the test. He was moving up, and one day, she hoped, she'd meet him up there once more.
"Hello," she called as someone approached, her voice soft and quiet. Maybe the reason the person passing by continued on unfazed, without even so much as a pause or a sideways glance. "Hello, I..." She tried again, stopping again with a heavy sigh as she realised not one person who had rushed by had stopped, nor even reacted. This wasn't such a rare thing. More of a regular occurrence and she was starting to wonder why she kept trying.
Because... Deep down, she knew there was an answer and it was only when the people were few and far between and the world seemed quiet that she allowed herself the time to think, and remember. There was, in fact, a reason she was still here. The only thing was, she had no idea. She knew she was here for a reason, but no idea what the reason was.
She must have fallen asleep, she realised, for she woke with a start, and to her surprise, there was a stranger crouching in front of her, peering back at her.
"Are you alright love?" Asked the stranger. "You look a little lonely."
"I am," she answered. "Or I suppose you could say was. I've got company now, don't I?"
"I guess you do," said the man, offering her a smile. "Mind if I take a seat?"
"Not at all. Go right ahead."
"How long have you been like this?" He asked and she turned to look at him, meeting his eyes. "When was the last time somebody talked to you?"
"Aside from you?" She asked quietly and he nodded. "Oh, it was a while ago," she said. "But I do remember it, sort of. Something had just happened, I don't know what. I must have passed out or something, because all of a sudden I was here."
"What did they tell you?"
"They said that I was here for a reason. But even after all this time, I still can't figure it out. I keep trying to talk to people, but..."
"They don't ever notice you?" The man asked gently.
"Exactly," she said with a gasp. "How... How did you know?"
"Because I've seen it before," he answered simply. "Honey, I hate to break it to you, but you're a ghost."
"A... A ghost? H... How do you know?"
"Because I'm one too. We have unfinished business here. We have to take care of it before we move on."
"So you.." She asked breathlessly.
"Yeah," he said, pulling something from his pocket. "But look darling, I know what I've got to do. I'm just trying to do it now, so you take this ok?" He said, slipping the object into her palm and curling her fingers back over it.
"What is it?" She asked holding it carefully. "It's good luck for us ghosts. So long as you have it, you'll have good luck in finding what you have to do, and doing it. But, be careful, and be warned. Should you loose it, your luck will turn the opposite way, and it'll all go downhill. You won't have chance at getting up there. That's why we're here, see. It's a test. To see if we are willing to work hard enough to get up there. We have to earn our place."
"But what about you?" She asked as he rose to his feet.
"Don't worry about me, little darlin'," he said, flashing another smile her way. "Good luck to you though."
She watched as he walked on, eventually, miraculously disappearing into a big bright light. But before he was engulfed completely by it, he took a moment to glance back, meeting her eyes and giving her one last, friendly, encouraging smile. As he slowly disappeared under her gaze, she finally allowed a small smile to escape her own lips. She knew what this meant. He'd passed the test. He was moving up, and one day, she hoped, she'd meet him up there once more.
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