If you ever saw her, you couldn't help but stare. She was so beautiful, yet she seemed so sad, wandering slowly about. She kept to herself mostly, but if you were lucky, you might hear her song. The beautiful, sad song. You'd wonder for a moment, but only a moment, no longer about the sadness in her voice. The downcast look of her eyes, but her voice was impossible to resist for long. It was too powerful...
Before long, she'd have you under her spell and it was impossible to recover. At least, until she stopped singing. But by then it was too late, she'd cast her spell on you. Every so often, you'd see her ghost somewhere and her sad song would echo like an endless lament in your mind, sounding as if she were standing right next to you. But when you looked, she would have faded away, vanished without a trace like she'd never been there at all.
If you looked at her and she caught you, she'd always look away. You'd never see those glittering, sad brown eyes for long. Men were brought to their knees by her beauty and young girls marveled at her princess-like appearance, in the heavy, antique, glittery golden dress she wore. The one that trailed along the ground after when she walked and swirled when she turned.
One young girl who had been placed under the spell of the sad singer with her song began to wonder about her as her ghost returned, the song echoing in her ear. There was a mystery there, and she would solve it. Why was the singer so sad. Something must have happened to make her that way, but what?
When the singer's ghost appeared again, the young girl reached out toward her just as she opened her mouth to sing. "Why are you sad?" the girl asked, but the singer didn't answer, starting to sing instead.
The girl sighed and closed her eyes, concentrating hard on the lyrics of the song. Maybe that held the answer.
The next time the singer appeared, the girl looked at her with sad eyes, having since figured out what was troubling her.
"Is it true?" she asked, her eyes bravely not faltering from the singer's. To the girl's suprise, the singer looked back at her, and nodded as sadness flooded her face. The girl's eyes flooded with sympathy at her face. No wonder she was so sad. Her love had been torn away from her- and by her own father!
"What are you still doing here?" the girl asked hopefully.
The singer motioned with her hand above her eyes as if she were searching for something.
"You're looking for him, aren't you?" the girl asked, understanding at once. Again, the singer nodded, the sad expression on her face unwavering.
To this day, the singer wanders looking for her lost love. If you're lucky, you might hear her song, and though her voice and beauty shall enchant you, you are only now under her spell for a short while. She never meant to hurt anybody, or push her sadness onto others so she no longer haunts, instead giving the gift of her song to all who wish to hear it.
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Trapped
She looked around, marvelling at the sight before her. How could there be so many people... This many people, all in one place. She blinked and for a moment there was complete silence, with no one there, but then she opened her eyes, and there they were again.
Again, she looked around her at the people surrounding her, not believing her eyes. "Excuse me," she called, but no one seemed to notice her. Instead they were all bustling past or talking to someone else and were therefore caught up in what they were doing, oblivious to her as a result.
Just when she was beginning to question the possibility that she may, in fact, be invisible, she felt someone tap her on the shoulder. Turning round to face who ever it was, a smile formed on her lips at the sight of a sweet young girl.
"Pardon me miss," she said, "I was wondering how you got here. There's never been many of your kind come here. Not many at all."
"I'm sorry. 'My kind?'"
"You know Miss," said the girl. "Oh no. You probably don't actually."
"Don't know what?" Asked the woman. "And what do you mean 'my kind?"
"You know," said the girl, "live folk."
"'Live folk?'" The woman repeated questioningly.
"Oh, right," said the girl, seemingly more to herself then to the woman she'd been talking to. "You don't know."
"Don't know what?" Asked the woman, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the girl, waiting. She didn't have time for all this cryptic, coded talk from the girl and wished she'd stop wasting time, get to the point and explain already.
"I'd better explain, hadn't I?" Asked the girl.
The woman let out a heavy breath. "Yes," she said. "Yes, an explanation would be good thank you." Unable to hold her frustration in any longer, it seeped out in the woman's tone as she spoke.
"I'm Genevieve anyway," said the girl. "Probably should have said that before too."
"Amy," answered the woman, extending her hand. But Genevieve shook her head and Amy let her arm drop back down to her side.
"So Genevieve," Amy said, "what's going on here exactly? What 'don't I know?'" She asked, repeating the girl's comment from earlier.
"We're all ghosts here Miss," Genevieve explained at last. "That's why we don't get too many of the live folk round here," she enter on. "They never stick around. Not once they know what we are. Not once they know we're ghosts." There was sadness in Genevieve's voice as she explained and Amy's eyes filled with sympathy.
"Why ever not?"
"I don't know to be honest," Genevieve said. "I think they get frightened."
Amy stood in silence for a moment while she thought about it. It did make sense. Ghosts were the subject of spooky stories children told one another to give themselves a good scare, so, it did make a little sense.
"All we want is a couple of friends," Genevieve said disappointedly. "We're trapped here, you see. If you die here, you're trapped as a ghost here for... Forever."
It was upsetting to think about the reality when confronted with the ghosts' point of view, Amy couldn't help but think as she went home. Especially for Genevieve. The poor, precious little girl. She was still a child! All she wanted was some friends. How awful would that be? To be trapped there like that? Nowhere to go. For all eternity. Trapped. Forever.
Again, she looked around her at the people surrounding her, not believing her eyes. "Excuse me," she called, but no one seemed to notice her. Instead they were all bustling past or talking to someone else and were therefore caught up in what they were doing, oblivious to her as a result.
Just when she was beginning to question the possibility that she may, in fact, be invisible, she felt someone tap her on the shoulder. Turning round to face who ever it was, a smile formed on her lips at the sight of a sweet young girl.
"Pardon me miss," she said, "I was wondering how you got here. There's never been many of your kind come here. Not many at all."
"I'm sorry. 'My kind?'"
"You know Miss," said the girl. "Oh no. You probably don't actually."
"Don't know what?" Asked the woman. "And what do you mean 'my kind?"
"You know," said the girl, "live folk."
"'Live folk?'" The woman repeated questioningly.
"Oh, right," said the girl, seemingly more to herself then to the woman she'd been talking to. "You don't know."
"Don't know what?" Asked the woman, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the girl, waiting. She didn't have time for all this cryptic, coded talk from the girl and wished she'd stop wasting time, get to the point and explain already.
"I'd better explain, hadn't I?" Asked the girl.
The woman let out a heavy breath. "Yes," she said. "Yes, an explanation would be good thank you." Unable to hold her frustration in any longer, it seeped out in the woman's tone as she spoke.
"I'm Genevieve anyway," said the girl. "Probably should have said that before too."
"Amy," answered the woman, extending her hand. But Genevieve shook her head and Amy let her arm drop back down to her side.
"So Genevieve," Amy said, "what's going on here exactly? What 'don't I know?'" She asked, repeating the girl's comment from earlier.
"We're all ghosts here Miss," Genevieve explained at last. "That's why we don't get too many of the live folk round here," she enter on. "They never stick around. Not once they know what we are. Not once they know we're ghosts." There was sadness in Genevieve's voice as she explained and Amy's eyes filled with sympathy.
"Why ever not?"
"I don't know to be honest," Genevieve said. "I think they get frightened."
Amy stood in silence for a moment while she thought about it. It did make sense. Ghosts were the subject of spooky stories children told one another to give themselves a good scare, so, it did make a little sense.
"All we want is a couple of friends," Genevieve said disappointedly. "We're trapped here, you see. If you die here, you're trapped as a ghost here for... Forever."
It was upsetting to think about the reality when confronted with the ghosts' point of view, Amy couldn't help but think as she went home. Especially for Genevieve. The poor, precious little girl. She was still a child! All she wanted was some friends. How awful would that be? To be trapped there like that? Nowhere to go. For all eternity. Trapped. Forever.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Live Again
The old woman smiled in her sleep at the images flashing by on her eyelids. Though she was old now, she was happy. She'd lived a good, full life and now she was happy in the knowledge that she could just relax and enjoy every day as it came.
The young woman threw her head back in laughter as she spun gleefully around, enjoying the rush of the cool summer breeze as it hit her face. The smile was still glued to her face when she bent down to smell the flowers in the garden. Straightening up, she looked up at the sky, and at the clouds, breathing in the air and simply reveling in the warmth and beauty of the day. She was here. She was alive and that gave her a feeling like she was on top of the world. And she felt it.
As she splashed her feet in a small puddle of quickly evaporating rain water, she smiled at the feeling of wetness on the sole of her foot. She'd thought she'd never feel that again. And here she was, feeling the heat of the sun beating down on her hair and making the long glossy locks shine, the cool breeze as it flew past her briefly closed eyelids and the refreshing wet of water as it dried on her skin. She could smile the nearby flowers and see the blue of the sky and the pure white of the clouds above. She could feel the grass beneath her as she allowed herself to settle back into it and watch the clouds in the sky, trying to make out the different shapes. A flower, a horse, a bird, and was that... a love heart?
The old woman smiled, just as happy as her young counterpart. She felt like she was really there, seeing the clouds, feeling the breeze, breathing in the fresh cool air. She felt as if she'd taken a breath of new life. In a way she had. The young girl she saw in her dreams was in fact, her and she delighted in watching herself young again, living again. Her soul had been reborn and she'd been given this new miracle. Her body and her soul could become separate and she could live again, while how body was dreaming. She had breathed a new life and she could live again.
The young woman threw her head back in laughter as she spun gleefully around, enjoying the rush of the cool summer breeze as it hit her face. The smile was still glued to her face when she bent down to smell the flowers in the garden. Straightening up, she looked up at the sky, and at the clouds, breathing in the air and simply reveling in the warmth and beauty of the day. She was here. She was alive and that gave her a feeling like she was on top of the world. And she felt it.
As she splashed her feet in a small puddle of quickly evaporating rain water, she smiled at the feeling of wetness on the sole of her foot. She'd thought she'd never feel that again. And here she was, feeling the heat of the sun beating down on her hair and making the long glossy locks shine, the cool breeze as it flew past her briefly closed eyelids and the refreshing wet of water as it dried on her skin. She could smile the nearby flowers and see the blue of the sky and the pure white of the clouds above. She could feel the grass beneath her as she allowed herself to settle back into it and watch the clouds in the sky, trying to make out the different shapes. A flower, a horse, a bird, and was that... a love heart?
The old woman smiled, just as happy as her young counterpart. She felt like she was really there, seeing the clouds, feeling the breeze, breathing in the fresh cool air. She felt as if she'd taken a breath of new life. In a way she had. The young girl she saw in her dreams was in fact, her and she delighted in watching herself young again, living again. Her soul had been reborn and she'd been given this new miracle. Her body and her soul could become separate and she could live again, while how body was dreaming. She had breathed a new life and she could live again.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Difference: A Blessing
Beth screamed out aloud. Luckily, there was no one home to scare. She'd had enough of this. All of it. Why did she have to be different? Why couldn't she just be normal, like everyone else? She was sick of it. Having everything made harder and not being able to do some things just because all her arm did was hang there, useless. Stavrou, a magician she really liked, was normal, she thought. Then she remembered something her mother had said to her once.
"Who says Stavrou is normal?" she'd said. "he might not have a physical barrier, but whose to say he doesn't have one at all?"
Beth smiled at the memory of the conversation, and the next thing her mother had said. "He could be just like you. It could be the most obvious thing in the world to him, like your arm is to you, but no one else notices. Who knows?"
For a long time, Beth had struggled. All she'd wanted was normality. She couldn't understand why she had to be different. What was the point of being different. Her being different didn't do her any good.
"See?" her mother said, looking at her daughter as the feature story on Stavrou finished on the news program they'd been watching. "He did have a barrier. No one would have known it. Did you guess it? Would you have?"
Beth shook her head. "Never in a million years."
"A barrier or a disability is on a barrier if you let it be. He doesn't let it stop him," her mother said, "and neither should you. You're a strong girl Beth, I know you've got it in you."
Beth had trouble sleeping that night for all the things Stavrou's feature story, and her mother, had given her to think about. Though she lay still, eyes closed, her mind raced.
The next day, Beth realized her mother was right. A barrier was only a barrier if you let it be a barrier. You had a choice, you could let it be an excuse or, you could make it a reason to fight. Taking a deep breath, Beth knew that's the choice she wanted. She wasn't going to let some silly arm stop her. Not anymore. She could be just as good as anyone else. Just as strong. And she would be. She would fight.
Having made that choice, Beth couldn't help but smile at the end of Stavrou's long post on Facebook of thanks for support.
" It's ok to be different and unique. In actual fact it's a blessing."
"Who says Stavrou is normal?" she'd said. "he might not have a physical barrier, but whose to say he doesn't have one at all?"
Beth smiled at the memory of the conversation, and the next thing her mother had said. "He could be just like you. It could be the most obvious thing in the world to him, like your arm is to you, but no one else notices. Who knows?"
For a long time, Beth had struggled. All she'd wanted was normality. She couldn't understand why she had to be different. What was the point of being different. Her being different didn't do her any good.
"See?" her mother said, looking at her daughter as the feature story on Stavrou finished on the news program they'd been watching. "He did have a barrier. No one would have known it. Did you guess it? Would you have?"
Beth shook her head. "Never in a million years."
"A barrier or a disability is on a barrier if you let it be. He doesn't let it stop him," her mother said, "and neither should you. You're a strong girl Beth, I know you've got it in you."
Beth had trouble sleeping that night for all the things Stavrou's feature story, and her mother, had given her to think about. Though she lay still, eyes closed, her mind raced.
The next day, Beth realized her mother was right. A barrier was only a barrier if you let it be a barrier. You had a choice, you could let it be an excuse or, you could make it a reason to fight. Taking a deep breath, Beth knew that's the choice she wanted. She wasn't going to let some silly arm stop her. Not anymore. She could be just as good as anyone else. Just as strong. And she would be. She would fight.
Having made that choice, Beth couldn't help but smile at the end of Stavrou's long post on Facebook of thanks for support.
" It's ok to be different and unique. In actual fact it's a blessing."
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Part Of Me
Paul cringed as the tall, muscly boys approached him from all sides.
"You're so gay!" one yelled.
"Nancy Boy!" said another.
"Fag!"
"Loser!"
As they continued to insult him, like casting arrows into his heart, though he still heard every single word and it stung just as much as the last one, he couldn't help but wonder about the logic of the whole situation. What? Just because he liked to sing and dance. That meant he was gay? It simply didn't make sense. Though, they seemed to think it did, for their teasing and taunting, even the occasional beating up seemed to be an increasingly regular occurrence.
Years later, Paul couldn't help but smile at the silence that fell over the school as he entered it for his 10 years since school reunion. Mouths dropped, eyes widened, a few even drooled, men mostly while quite a few ladies batted their eyelashes at him. He heard various murmurs of 'what's he doing here?' and 'what's he doing at our reunion?' as he passed. No one recognized him.
Unlike his high school self, Paul ten years later oozed with confidence and walked straight up to the guy who had tormented him most, Mark. The once intimidating, fearless man looked bewildered and couldn't stop blinking at the sight in front of him.
"Mmm," Paul said thoughtfully, "didn't expect Perry Roberts at your reunion did you?"
"Wh-what a-are you doing here? We never had a Perry Roberts in our class," he said and inside, Paul was jumping and screaming at the triumph. He'd made the guy speechless.
"No Perry Roberts, no. But you did have a Paul..."
A small smile crossed Paul's lips as he watched the pieces click into place in Mark's mind.
"You... You're P-P-Paul?"
"That's me alright," said Paul, "didn't recognize me?"
Slowly, Mark shook his head, a little defeated.
"Oh, and by the way, I am gay after all. Thank you for helping me figure it out," Paul said over his shoulder as he was dragged away by an excited woman.
"I can't believe I'm meeting you! My kids will be so excited! My daughter is your biggest fan."
"Really?" Paul asked, a genuine smile replacing the triumphant little smirk from before, "that's really nice to hear. Take this back to her, I'm sure she'll love it." It just so happened that Paul had a copy of his latest CD- not even released yet- in his bag. Taking a pen from his pocket, he signed the cover before handing it over to the speechless woman in front of him. Taking it from him, she turned it over in her hands before looking back up at him, wide eyed. "This one's not even out yet... She's been talking about it though, and waiting for it... Thank you. You are such an inspiration to her and a wonderful role model. Thank you."
"It was my pleasure," Paul said with a kind smile, "she'll be the envy of all her friends."
"Indeed she will!" The woman beamed as she wandered away.
Paul sighed as more and more people began to recognize him.
"Hey Perry! Will you sing?" One yelled, and before long, more and more people joined in, shouting "sing" over and over again like a chant.
"Sure," Paul said, giving in after a while and smiling as he headed for the stage. Everyone watched with baited breath as he took the microphone and opened his mouth. There was silence for a while once he started- shock. He hadn't sung one of his own songs but instead a cover of one that had long inspired him.
By the time he'd done a few songs at the eager request of the crowd of his schoolmates, Paul was exhausted and decided to head home. But, there was one more thing.
"I just wanted to say one more thing to you," Paul said to Mark, his nose inches from the seemingly timid man's.
"There was always going to be one part of me you could never, ever take away from me. This is it."
"You're so gay!" one yelled.
"Nancy Boy!" said another.
"Fag!"
"Loser!"
As they continued to insult him, like casting arrows into his heart, though he still heard every single word and it stung just as much as the last one, he couldn't help but wonder about the logic of the whole situation. What? Just because he liked to sing and dance. That meant he was gay? It simply didn't make sense. Though, they seemed to think it did, for their teasing and taunting, even the occasional beating up seemed to be an increasingly regular occurrence.
Years later, Paul couldn't help but smile at the silence that fell over the school as he entered it for his 10 years since school reunion. Mouths dropped, eyes widened, a few even drooled, men mostly while quite a few ladies batted their eyelashes at him. He heard various murmurs of 'what's he doing here?' and 'what's he doing at our reunion?' as he passed. No one recognized him.
Unlike his high school self, Paul ten years later oozed with confidence and walked straight up to the guy who had tormented him most, Mark. The once intimidating, fearless man looked bewildered and couldn't stop blinking at the sight in front of him.
"Mmm," Paul said thoughtfully, "didn't expect Perry Roberts at your reunion did you?"
"Wh-what a-are you doing here? We never had a Perry Roberts in our class," he said and inside, Paul was jumping and screaming at the triumph. He'd made the guy speechless.
"No Perry Roberts, no. But you did have a Paul..."
A small smile crossed Paul's lips as he watched the pieces click into place in Mark's mind.
"You... You're P-P-Paul?"
"That's me alright," said Paul, "didn't recognize me?"
Slowly, Mark shook his head, a little defeated.
"Oh, and by the way, I am gay after all. Thank you for helping me figure it out," Paul said over his shoulder as he was dragged away by an excited woman.
"I can't believe I'm meeting you! My kids will be so excited! My daughter is your biggest fan."
"Really?" Paul asked, a genuine smile replacing the triumphant little smirk from before, "that's really nice to hear. Take this back to her, I'm sure she'll love it." It just so happened that Paul had a copy of his latest CD- not even released yet- in his bag. Taking a pen from his pocket, he signed the cover before handing it over to the speechless woman in front of him. Taking it from him, she turned it over in her hands before looking back up at him, wide eyed. "This one's not even out yet... She's been talking about it though, and waiting for it... Thank you. You are such an inspiration to her and a wonderful role model. Thank you."
"It was my pleasure," Paul said with a kind smile, "she'll be the envy of all her friends."
"Indeed she will!" The woman beamed as she wandered away.
Paul sighed as more and more people began to recognize him.
"Hey Perry! Will you sing?" One yelled, and before long, more and more people joined in, shouting "sing" over and over again like a chant.
"Sure," Paul said, giving in after a while and smiling as he headed for the stage. Everyone watched with baited breath as he took the microphone and opened his mouth. There was silence for a while once he started- shock. He hadn't sung one of his own songs but instead a cover of one that had long inspired him.
By the time he'd done a few songs at the eager request of the crowd of his schoolmates, Paul was exhausted and decided to head home. But, there was one more thing.
"I just wanted to say one more thing to you," Paul said to Mark, his nose inches from the seemingly timid man's.
"There was always going to be one part of me you could never, ever take away from me. This is it."
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Happy Birthday Oscar
"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you," the lady carrying the birthday cake had the biggest of smiles spread across her lips. Anyone would think it was her birthday being celebrated. "Happy birthday dear Oscar! Happy Birthday to you!" As she set the cake in front of him, the only response from Oscar was drool falling from his mouth and an anticipative light in his eyes.
The woman's face fell at his reaction, but her heart melted when his eyes locked onto hers. She could never resist those puppy dog eyes he always pulled to get his own way. She was a sucker for them.
"Alright," she said, a small hint of a smile returned to her lips, "tuck in then."
She shook her head as she watched him a moment. He sure took the phrase 'tuck in' literally, completely burying his face in the specially made mixture, completely stuffing himself. She couldn't help but wonder why she kept throwing these parties for him, year after year when the only thanks she got was a great deal of mess to clean up afterwards. But she did know why, really. That's what you do for the ones you love, and she loved him.
"Look at all these presents Oscar!" She said excitedly, kneeling next to Oscar in front of the pile of gifts. She sat back on her heels, watching as Oscar approached the pile. He sniffed at the ones closest to him before turning and walking away.
"Don't you want them?" She asked in surprise, staring after him. Hope returned some at the sound of the light patter of footsteps, growing louder as he came closer. But all he did was glance at her before walking away again.
Sighing, she leaned forward, unwrapping a present off of the pile to reveal a bright new tennis ball. Clutching it in her palm, she got up and took it outside, where she knew Oscar would be. She bounced up and down on the pavers and it wasn't long before Oscar looked at her with a sparkle in his eyes, ears pricked up and tail wagging. Yes, all of this had been for a dog. She'd been called the Crazy Dog Lady. So what if she did treat him more like a son than a dog. What mattered most to her was that it was just her and Oscar.
The woman's face fell at his reaction, but her heart melted when his eyes locked onto hers. She could never resist those puppy dog eyes he always pulled to get his own way. She was a sucker for them.
"Alright," she said, a small hint of a smile returned to her lips, "tuck in then."
She shook her head as she watched him a moment. He sure took the phrase 'tuck in' literally, completely burying his face in the specially made mixture, completely stuffing himself. She couldn't help but wonder why she kept throwing these parties for him, year after year when the only thanks she got was a great deal of mess to clean up afterwards. But she did know why, really. That's what you do for the ones you love, and she loved him.
"Look at all these presents Oscar!" She said excitedly, kneeling next to Oscar in front of the pile of gifts. She sat back on her heels, watching as Oscar approached the pile. He sniffed at the ones closest to him before turning and walking away.
"Don't you want them?" She asked in surprise, staring after him. Hope returned some at the sound of the light patter of footsteps, growing louder as he came closer. But all he did was glance at her before walking away again.
Sighing, she leaned forward, unwrapping a present off of the pile to reveal a bright new tennis ball. Clutching it in her palm, she got up and took it outside, where she knew Oscar would be. She bounced up and down on the pavers and it wasn't long before Oscar looked at her with a sparkle in his eyes, ears pricked up and tail wagging. Yes, all of this had been for a dog. She'd been called the Crazy Dog Lady. So what if she did treat him more like a son than a dog. What mattered most to her was that it was just her and Oscar.
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