Your Story

The young boy sat cross-legged on the floor, his head resting in his cupped hands, his elbows slowly digging into his knees. He let out a heavy sigh, just as his little sister came skipping happily into the room. She stopped at the sound of his breath and turned back to face him. "What is it?" She asked, placing her hands on her hips.
It took her brother a few minutes before he realised anyone had spoken. Slowly he looked up and met her big hazel eyes."huh?"
"What is it?" She asked.
"I wish they'd stop!"
"Are those boys being bullies again?" Her brother nodded glumly, averting his gaze downward again. "Well, it's no good just wishing," she said wisely.
"What?"
"It's your story. Just like my story is my story, your story is your story. No one's going to change it for you." Her brother stared at her silently.
"So?"
"If you always take it on the chin and wear it, nothing will change, Robert."
"If I sit around and let them get on top, I won't change a thing," he echoed in a whisper.
A bright smile spread speedily across his sister's lips. "Just because you find life's not far, it doesn't mean you have to grin and bear it. If you did that, you might as well be saying you think that it's ok.." she started to say.
"And, that's not right," her brother finished with her.
"Nobody else is going to put it right for me, nobody but me is going to change my story." At this, his little sister's smile couldn't possibly have been bigger.

Finally, Robert got to his feet, a tiny hint at a smile tugging at his lips, desperate to emerge.
"Molly," he said, resting a hand momentarily on the little girl's shoulder, "you're pretty clever for a six year old."
Molly shrugged. "It's your story," she said simply, "you get to write it."

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Inspired by the song 'Naughty' from Matilda the Musical. For more on Matilda's Australian run, visit their website here.

Beyond The Window

A stream of tears trailed down her cheeks as she watched the scene through the window. She was smiling and laughing, as if nothing had ever happened. As if nothing had changed. That only made her cry more. Once, not all that long ago, hours, maybe, it had been her she'd been laughing and joking with. Now, it was everyone but her. "What changed?" she asked herself out loud in a whisper. "What happened? I don''t understand..."

She took a shaky breath and slowly got to her feet, beginning to pace the room, trying hard to put a stop to the flow of tears still longing to fall. But it wasn't just the tears now. Now, she felt like screaming too. "Aren't you allowed to have really bad days sometimes?" she asked, taking a glance back beyond the window, "I didn't think it was a crime..." She continued to pace mindlessly a long while, her sole focus on her breath. In, out, in, out, in, out.

Finally she stopped, looking back toward the window, and to her. "I'm sorry," she said, even though she knew she couldn't hear. "I'm sorry I'm not perfect. But you aren't either, and did I abandon you when you fell?" A lone tear tracked a trail down her cheek. "I thought I could count on you. I thought I could trust you." She didn't even worry about crying anymore and just let the tears fall, though she felt a little like a waterfall. "I'm sorry I made that mistake. You fooled me. You tricked me. I thought you were different. You proved me wrong."

She moved again to the seat by the window and brought her feet up too, hugging her knees tight. "I wish it weren't like this. Don't you see the damage you've caused? I don't know your reasons," she said, rising once more. "I don't see through your eyes." She paused, turning back to the window one last time. "But, I hear your silence. The sound of goodbye."

I'll Never Forget

I touched the ring in my pocket, the one I had told her father I wanted to offer his daughter. That was so long ago.

I look at her now, from the doorway to he room. She smiles sweetly at me from her place in bed, buried deep under the covers, which she has pulled up to her chin so all I can see is her face. We have shared a lifetime together. There have been a lifetime of treasured memories, a whole load of stories to cherish.

"Hello, my darling," I say as I softly sit on the edge of the bed, taking her warm hand in my own. I raise her hand to my lips and kiss it gently before letting it go.
"Hello," she says weakly, confusion evident in her voice.
"I'm Joseph, do you remember me?" I ask, reminding myself not to hope. "I've been coming to see you for a while now."
"I'm sorry," she says, her smile sad as her eyes meet mine.
"It's ok."
"But I shouldn't forget your name," she says.
"Oh?" I say, raising an eyebrow,
"Joseph was my husband's name."
"I've come to take you to dinner," I say after a moment, rising from the bed.
"Oh yes," her smile widened. "the nurses told me, they helped me pick a dress specially."
"Lovely," I say, smiling in return. "But first, my dear, I believe you lost something precious." I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring. Her face lights up and she gasps.
"Wherever did you find that?" she asks breathlessly. "My Joseph gave that to me!"
"Would you like me to put it on for you?" I ask. Eagerly, she nods, holding out her hand. Carefully, I slip the ring onto her finger. Just as I had done that night.

I offer a hand as she slowly, shakily gets out from under the covers.I gasp as she straightens up. She won't remember, but I do. I'll never forget it. It is the dress she wore the night I proposed.