
| Author | Message |
|---|---|
|
Musical Seeds -------------------------------------------------------- I. Thomas Wharton People always talk about those select few who love everything in their lives. Love their families. Love their friends. Love their jobs and their house and their everything else. Thomas Wharton was one of those people. With each day came a smile. Each morning upon waking he didn't yawn, he didn't groan, he didn't slowly force himself out of bed. In fact, his first morning ritual was one many might find strange: he'd spring out of bed the instant he opened his eyes, dash towards the window, and pull the blinds up. Not just opened them, he pulled them up until the sun had illuminated the whole room. This is how he viewed his life--bright, refreshing, and golden. Then he'd stroll to his slumbering wife Sara and kiss her sun kissed cheek. This was how he viewed his life. Perfect. II. Changes With each passing year there were only a few little changes. A few positive changes. A few new lives for Tom to brighten, and a few new things to brighten Tom's life. Tom and Sara were still madly in love almost unrealistically. III. Lifestyle You see, the Wharton's lived an idealistic southern life. They had 75 acres of Louisiana's best land, one of the most beautiful plantation-style homes, and a happy family with absolutely no worries of poverty. Actually, they had a happy family with absolutely no worries at all. And everyday Tom worked in the sun. IV. Work Every day of the year Tom sowed the very fields that he paid farmhands to tend. He knew he didn't have to, but it was how he was raised. He liked the feeling of accomplishment that accompanies a day's worth of hard work. And while he sowed, Sara dreamily rocked in her chair on the porch, happily sighing at the sights and sounds. V. The Children The children were beautiful. Three of them altogether, only a year separating each. Ellie was the oldest, followed by James and Jenny. They were all pleasant children, never bringing anything but joy to Tom and Sara's lives. They were the pride of Tom and Sara. Just like the seeds Tom sowed, his children were gracefully growing into beautiful things. Tom provided the sunlight and Sara provided the water, and all was well. VI. The Death Then, on a day of strange coldness and gray skies the unthinkable happened. He was of nearly perfect health, Tom was. He hadn't even previously mentioned heart problems or any chest pains. Tom was the kind of man who rarely even got headaches. But on this cloudy day while he was in the fields, Tom had a stroke. Almost instantly life went from perfection to nonexistence. Sara, who was cheerfully listening to Jenny play the family piano while James and Ellie sang, did not notice the farmhands' shouting "Misses Sara, Misses Sara." Finally, one of the farmhands rushed through the door into the foyer, and followed the musical sounds until he found himself in the salon. A bit startled, Sara replied "Is something the matter, Charles?" As the words of despair trailed out of his mouth, the children, who were not paying attention, continued to play. Sara's eyes were widening from shock and flooding with tears at once. Ellie and James noticed their mother and stopped singing, but Jenny kept on. She had her eyes shut and was smiling and bouncing from side to side, beautifully and rhythmically playing the keys. Finally, Ellie tapped Jenny's shoulder and Jenny opened her eyes, noting everyone's odd expressions and the tense atmosphere. Sara couldn't even speak, all she could do was sob. Ellie and James looked hollow and fragile like porcelain dolls. Jenny, still confused and uninformed, looked from person to person searching for the answer. When no one supplied the answer to why her mother was crying, all Jenny knew to do was to start playing the piano again in an attempt to cheer her up. Sara became silent, stood up, and slowly sauntered outside. VII. Musical Things She grabbed a bag of seed and began to sow in the field closest to the house. The few farmhands working on this dreary day were tending to some of the fields far away, and Charles was still inside with the children. Sara was shaking and scattering seeds left and right, not even noticing where she was placing them. She was meandering in a comatose-like state, memories floating through her head. She finally looked down when she noticed something was in her way. It was Tom. Her quiet sobbing turned into loud moans as she fell on her knees and placed her head on his chest. "Why! Why! Thomas!" was all she could get out. And then she heard his voice, but it wasn't him actually speaking. She just heard his voice, the voice of comfort, in her head. "Though we are physically distanced now, my love, I am still here with you," she heard him say. Still confused by his voice and still in shock at his sudden death, Sara yelled out "Where are you, Tom, where are you!" He responded, "Darling, shouldn't I be the one wondering? After all, I'm the one who is gone." She then stated that she was just wondering. He was just wondering. She was just wondering. Finally, the voice said in a comforting tone, "I'm the one who is gone, sweet Sara. Make the most of what is left of our love and our life. Between our farm and our family we've created beautiful things. Musical things. Hold onto those, and keep me in your heart. Remember me each morning as the sun shines down on you, and hear me in the world surrounding you--the musical wind, the rushing streams, and our very own children's voices." With this last statement, Sara lifted herself from the ground and walked back to the house. As she stepped on the porch she could still hear the familiar sounds of the music she loved so much. She walked to the salon, and beamed down at her beautiful children. Jenny had obviously heard the bad news, because although she was still smiling and bobbing back and forth, her eyes were engulfed with tears. Sara's eyes began to fill with tears again, but this time a different kind. _________________ Previously user holland, 2005. Either my account became inactive from posting inactivity or I just downright forgot my password. |
|
|
Joined: 06 Jan 2007 | Posts: 151 | Location: Genovia
|
|
|
Just Like You --------------------------------- Dear Diary, As I pick up my pen and write these words, my hand shakes and my tears fall. I saw it again last night. The same thing. I saw him shake her, and I saw him hit her. I saw him slam her against the wall and heard her cry. I saw what he does to her. If only she knew that I know how she feels. If only she knew that I go through exactly what she goes through. If only she'd give me the chance to let her know. I'm just like her, yet she looks at my clothes, my hair, my glasses, my braces. I ask her if she wants to hang out with me and she scoffs. If only she were blind. Then she could just listen. Then she could listen without bias and just hear the truth. Hear that I know how she feels. She needs someone to talk to, and I need someone too. If she only knew the tears I've cried for her. The tears I've cried for us. Dear Diary, She asked me to come outside and talk to her again today. I don't like upsetting people, since I know how bad it feels to hurt, but I can't let her in my life. I have to make her think that I just won't associate with her because I'm rich and she's poor. I'm pretty and she's plain. I'm popular and she's socially nonexistent. But in reality I'm just afraid. I'm afraid for her and for me. He won't stop. Every night it's the same, and since mom's death there's been nothing holding him back. He shakes me, he hits me. He slams me against the wall. I can't let her in my life because I'm too afraid that he'd hurt her. I'm too afraid to let someone see how hurt I am, for someone to see the weak, abused reality of what everyone thinks is perfection. If she only knew the tears I've cried for her. The tears I've cried for us. --------------------------------------- (I know this extremely short story is probably very far from the actual inspiration behind Telescope Eyes... but I had fun with it haha) _________________ Previously user holland, 2005. Either my account became inactive from posting inactivity or I just downright forgot my password. |
|
|
Joined: 06 Jan 2007 | Posts: 151 | Location: Genovia
|
|
|
|
|
|
Laughing City Forum Index -> eisleyBlog -> Room Stories
Page 1 of 1 |
|
|
You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum You cannot edit your posts in this forum You cannot delete your posts in this forum You cannot vote in polls in this forum |
|
|
All times are GMT - 12 Hours
|
|

