Ok, this is one of mine, just written two days ago. I've got some editing to do on the storyline but here ya go. Beware, I went sappy!! gonk Lol enjoy!
☼ ☀ ☼
♥A Songbird’s Dream♥
She was my song, my melody, my impulse.
She could always tell me one thing that meant another, spoken only for me to understand. She was what I wished for and what I dreamt of. She was mind and I was hers.
It was heartrending and terrifying. Tragic indeed…I just…I’m not sure what went wrong, it happened so suddenly. She was there and then…I’m sure it’s my fault and I keep blaming myself, but these things happen…I can’t stop them…
It was around late April, spring just beginning to depart and leave summer in its wake. She was young, traveling all over to ‘find the place she was meant to be’, she always said. She had her talents and was attempting to find somewhere she could put them to good use, permanently, without having to move around much. A place to call home. When she first arrived to our small town everyone became curious of her. Even me.
She was never nervous or shy upon first meeting someone, always being open minded and outspoken, giving everyone a chance. Even me. I have to say…I was a bit suspicious of her at first. At her sudden appearance in the town and how well and quickly she was fitting in.
Silly, I know. I’ll never know why I’d felt that way. She seemed to pick up on my suspicion. After that signal went off a smirk would come to her face and she’d cleverly try to annoy or irritate me in her own creative way. And let me tell you, it worked. Nearly drove me insane too. My friends would only laugh and joke around with me, I unable to resist laughing a bit as well. After a month or two of her settling into the town and beginning to perform in the local and only pub, I decided to get her back. No, I wasn’t planning on being cruel or unruly in my attempt, just playful and enough to startle her a bit and without giving her a heart attack first, make her laugh a bit along with everyone else at my petty prank.
So that night, when the season now stuck and stitched in to the middle of the summer, I traveled to the pub to begin constructing my master mind plan of comical revenge. I felt like suck an idiot, pulling pranks like a child, but at the same time it was…fun, to say the least.
I was silent and sneaky, as sly as a fox would be, sneaking into a chicken coop right under a farmer’s nose. No one was there, just like I expected. Who would be out at two in the morning? No one when it was closed and everyone hit the hay three hours ago or earlier from drinking. I usually layed off the drinking thing.
I moved to the stage, her stage, and walked up the stairs leading me to it and glanced around absentmindedly, as if someone would walk in at any second. When I turned back to the stage I came face to face with her curious gaze, her face only centimeters away from mine. I immediately sprang back, nearly falling off the stage, my graceful ways making her light chuckle fill the room. ‘What’re you doing here?’ She asked with a small grin, her blue-ish seagreen eyes narrowing playfully at me in suspicion. I asked her the same and she told me she was going to practice before she saw me ‘standing there like an idiot’. At two in the morning I’ll never know why.
She was a singer, talented and passionate about the art. Everyone loved her voice, the rhythm of her words calming.
Well, I had been caught in the act, or rather, before I was even able to piece together the act completely. Yea…I never really had a full plan. So it was never put into action. Instead, we talked. Blandly at first then moving on to the town then to more personal accounts. I learned why exactly she was there and why she had a dream.
Her family, to her, seemed absolutely perfect when she was younger. She was an only child and her parents were always together and loving to one another and her. The small family did everything together, up until her mother’s sudden illness.
After a few weeks, she was unable to get out of bed, her illness intensifying quickly. They took her to the hospital that was only a few blocks down from their house of Chicago. Her mother was soon diagnosed with Leukemia. Before treatment could begin she just…died. Her father was destroyed, emotionally and then mentally. He became angry, settling his struggle in life with alcohol. He never showed any other emotion unless he was blank. It was like every old, well remembered emotion had died with his wife. Soon, his old attitude became dream-like to his daughter. When she became of age she left, leaving her father to himself, finding there was nothing she could do for him. She couldn’t keep living with him when there was no connection. She was ready to move on while he continued to mourn silently.
She told me her mother loved her singing when she was young. She even sang at her funeral for her in her memory. She was a natural talent at the art, singing lessons never needed. She loved singing with a passion while it also reminded her of her mother. So she carried out the deed, wanting to find somewhere she could sing and be away from the city that once held wondrous childhood memories that were replaced by tragedy. She’d traveled a few states up then down and wound up in our town, only an hour or so away from Chicago.
I didn’t know what to say or what to tell her…What would I, that everything would be alright? No…no, it was too late for that. I hugged her tightly as the memories hit home and she collapsed into tears, staring to the ground in thought.
The next day she had recovered the sentimental flash, back to normal and back to being in high spirits. I was still stuck on all she had told me. We never spoke of it again even though I’m sure we both thought of it everyday. I knew she did, it was her past afterall.
As the years passed we became closer while she fit in like she was born there. We continued to grow close until we hit the bridge of dating. Everyone else in the town seemed excited, telling us ‘it was about time’. About two years later I proposed to her, unable to be apart from her or think of her as anything less than my wife. She accepted ecstatically, but I knew somewhere inside of her, she saw it coming.
Our wedding was beautiful, wonderful, and perfect. After we were married she continued singing, me by her side and wishing her good luck the whole way. We even started travelling a bit by day but always returning to our small town home. She finally had a home and that made her so happy. We talked about having children and how many and what names we’d choose if it were a girl or a boy. The girl would definitely be named after her mother.
But…it happened so quickly. Our dreams and future fantasies soon flashed to a sudden nightmare that left us with whiplash right before our eyes. She fell ill. We didn’t pay much mind to it since it wasn’t that bad at first. A month or so later she only got worse, and she felt more nauseated and tired. She had high fevers and chills…We thought it was just the flu, but when it never went away and she only got worse…we went to the hospital. She was worried even though naturally, she acted brave, a bit too valiant for her own good, but I could see it in her eyes. The closest hospital was that hour drive to Chicago. I felt a dreadful sense of irony wash over me. It was the same hospital her mother had been put in.
The doctor ran tests, coming to us with the worst news we could possibly achieve. She had cancer. Leukemia. I was devastated. She was too. Treatment, there was always treatment! It wasn’t too late for her, please don’t be too late for her…I would beg it in my mind. The doctor told us treatment could begin in a week or so, so we went back home. She found enough strength to continue singing, but only in town. We didn’t want to travel at the time.
We went back to Chicago the next week and she was given medications for the cancer. He told us if they didn’t work then radiation therapy was the next option. So, we went home again. Another week passed, then another, then a month. We thought it was working but her health dropped quickly again. We went back to the hospital another week later. The medication wasn’t working. We made the decision together to try radiation therapy and scheduled a date then…went home. She fell into critical condition as fast as the disease had appeared and I rushed her to the hospital. She was put under emergency care and radiation therapy was now out of our options list as long as she was like that.
We got all kinds of ‘Get Well Soon’ cards and balloons and whatnot from everyone back home. That made her happy, very happy. And seeing her happy made me happy to see her still being herself in such a critical time. But no matter how happy things made her, I couldn’t help but notice her blue, seagreen eyes that were slowly dulling.We never separated and talked like usual and occasionally cried together. We knew it was…only a matter of time before something really good happened or…
A few days later it happened. The doctor rushed in with the nurses and her heart beat began to fade. They managed to bring her back but she was hooked up to life support and unconscious. I stayed beside her once things had been stabilized; forcing myself to stay awake in case she somehow woke up. And that she did. That night she awoke and gave me that natural, everyday smile of hers. She was still her. We didn’t need to discuss anything, we both knew. I moved in to the bed beside her, holding her with protective arms while she rested against me in my caring arms. I held onto her for literally, dear life.
‘I love you…so much.’
‘I love you too…I love you too…my Songbird.’
I still remember our words, my nickname I’d made for her, and our eyes closing, the world become dark and filled with peaceful dreams. I woke up. She didn’t. I was destroyed, now understanding how her father felt when her mother died, only, unlike him I didn’t turn bitter and angry. What would she say if I did that? We had her buried in the same cemetery as her mother and I stayed there nearly all night, staring, thinking. When I finally left I went back home…our home. The town seemed less lively, empty. I notified her father on his daughter’s death and explained but never got a reply.
Life slowly moved on. But I never got used to her not being there, I never got used to not hearing her melodic voice, talking or singing. I never got used to the emptiness in our house without her there. I never got used to the dreams we had being destroyed. But…she had accomplished her dream. She’d found a home, somewhere she could use her talent and stay permanently.
She was gone though, my songbird was dead. I don’t know…why, why it happened to her. I didn’t question it much though. I rejoiced in every memory of her and slowly, that’s what she became. That’s what her singing became. A slow fading memory but one that she herself would never become.
She was my songbird. She was my song.
☼ ☀ ☼
Written by
The Wolfs Song
☼ ☀ ☼
♥A Songbird’s Dream♥
She was my song, my melody, my impulse.
She could always tell me one thing that meant another, spoken only for me to understand. She was what I wished for and what I dreamt of. She was mind and I was hers.
It was heartrending and terrifying. Tragic indeed…I just…I’m not sure what went wrong, it happened so suddenly. She was there and then…I’m sure it’s my fault and I keep blaming myself, but these things happen…I can’t stop them…
It was around late April, spring just beginning to depart and leave summer in its wake. She was young, traveling all over to ‘find the place she was meant to be’, she always said. She had her talents and was attempting to find somewhere she could put them to good use, permanently, without having to move around much. A place to call home. When she first arrived to our small town everyone became curious of her. Even me.
She was never nervous or shy upon first meeting someone, always being open minded and outspoken, giving everyone a chance. Even me. I have to say…I was a bit suspicious of her at first. At her sudden appearance in the town and how well and quickly she was fitting in.
Silly, I know. I’ll never know why I’d felt that way. She seemed to pick up on my suspicion. After that signal went off a smirk would come to her face and she’d cleverly try to annoy or irritate me in her own creative way. And let me tell you, it worked. Nearly drove me insane too. My friends would only laugh and joke around with me, I unable to resist laughing a bit as well. After a month or two of her settling into the town and beginning to perform in the local and only pub, I decided to get her back. No, I wasn’t planning on being cruel or unruly in my attempt, just playful and enough to startle her a bit and without giving her a heart attack first, make her laugh a bit along with everyone else at my petty prank.
So that night, when the season now stuck and stitched in to the middle of the summer, I traveled to the pub to begin constructing my master mind plan of comical revenge. I felt like suck an idiot, pulling pranks like a child, but at the same time it was…fun, to say the least.
I was silent and sneaky, as sly as a fox would be, sneaking into a chicken coop right under a farmer’s nose. No one was there, just like I expected. Who would be out at two in the morning? No one when it was closed and everyone hit the hay three hours ago or earlier from drinking. I usually layed off the drinking thing.
I moved to the stage, her stage, and walked up the stairs leading me to it and glanced around absentmindedly, as if someone would walk in at any second. When I turned back to the stage I came face to face with her curious gaze, her face only centimeters away from mine. I immediately sprang back, nearly falling off the stage, my graceful ways making her light chuckle fill the room. ‘What’re you doing here?’ She asked with a small grin, her blue-ish seagreen eyes narrowing playfully at me in suspicion. I asked her the same and she told me she was going to practice before she saw me ‘standing there like an idiot’. At two in the morning I’ll never know why.
She was a singer, talented and passionate about the art. Everyone loved her voice, the rhythm of her words calming.
Well, I had been caught in the act, or rather, before I was even able to piece together the act completely. Yea…I never really had a full plan. So it was never put into action. Instead, we talked. Blandly at first then moving on to the town then to more personal accounts. I learned why exactly she was there and why she had a dream.
Her family, to her, seemed absolutely perfect when she was younger. She was an only child and her parents were always together and loving to one another and her. The small family did everything together, up until her mother’s sudden illness.
After a few weeks, she was unable to get out of bed, her illness intensifying quickly. They took her to the hospital that was only a few blocks down from their house of Chicago. Her mother was soon diagnosed with Leukemia. Before treatment could begin she just…died. Her father was destroyed, emotionally and then mentally. He became angry, settling his struggle in life with alcohol. He never showed any other emotion unless he was blank. It was like every old, well remembered emotion had died with his wife. Soon, his old attitude became dream-like to his daughter. When she became of age she left, leaving her father to himself, finding there was nothing she could do for him. She couldn’t keep living with him when there was no connection. She was ready to move on while he continued to mourn silently.
She told me her mother loved her singing when she was young. She even sang at her funeral for her in her memory. She was a natural talent at the art, singing lessons never needed. She loved singing with a passion while it also reminded her of her mother. So she carried out the deed, wanting to find somewhere she could sing and be away from the city that once held wondrous childhood memories that were replaced by tragedy. She’d traveled a few states up then down and wound up in our town, only an hour or so away from Chicago.
I didn’t know what to say or what to tell her…What would I, that everything would be alright? No…no, it was too late for that. I hugged her tightly as the memories hit home and she collapsed into tears, staring to the ground in thought.
The next day she had recovered the sentimental flash, back to normal and back to being in high spirits. I was still stuck on all she had told me. We never spoke of it again even though I’m sure we both thought of it everyday. I knew she did, it was her past afterall.
As the years passed we became closer while she fit in like she was born there. We continued to grow close until we hit the bridge of dating. Everyone else in the town seemed excited, telling us ‘it was about time’. About two years later I proposed to her, unable to be apart from her or think of her as anything less than my wife. She accepted ecstatically, but I knew somewhere inside of her, she saw it coming.
Our wedding was beautiful, wonderful, and perfect. After we were married she continued singing, me by her side and wishing her good luck the whole way. We even started travelling a bit by day but always returning to our small town home. She finally had a home and that made her so happy. We talked about having children and how many and what names we’d choose if it were a girl or a boy. The girl would definitely be named after her mother.
But…it happened so quickly. Our dreams and future fantasies soon flashed to a sudden nightmare that left us with whiplash right before our eyes. She fell ill. We didn’t pay much mind to it since it wasn’t that bad at first. A month or so later she only got worse, and she felt more nauseated and tired. She had high fevers and chills…We thought it was just the flu, but when it never went away and she only got worse…we went to the hospital. She was worried even though naturally, she acted brave, a bit too valiant for her own good, but I could see it in her eyes. The closest hospital was that hour drive to Chicago. I felt a dreadful sense of irony wash over me. It was the same hospital her mother had been put in.
The doctor ran tests, coming to us with the worst news we could possibly achieve. She had cancer. Leukemia. I was devastated. She was too. Treatment, there was always treatment! It wasn’t too late for her, please don’t be too late for her…I would beg it in my mind. The doctor told us treatment could begin in a week or so, so we went back home. She found enough strength to continue singing, but only in town. We didn’t want to travel at the time.
We went back to Chicago the next week and she was given medications for the cancer. He told us if they didn’t work then radiation therapy was the next option. So, we went home again. Another week passed, then another, then a month. We thought it was working but her health dropped quickly again. We went back to the hospital another week later. The medication wasn’t working. We made the decision together to try radiation therapy and scheduled a date then…went home. She fell into critical condition as fast as the disease had appeared and I rushed her to the hospital. She was put under emergency care and radiation therapy was now out of our options list as long as she was like that.
We got all kinds of ‘Get Well Soon’ cards and balloons and whatnot from everyone back home. That made her happy, very happy. And seeing her happy made me happy to see her still being herself in such a critical time. But no matter how happy things made her, I couldn’t help but notice her blue, seagreen eyes that were slowly dulling.We never separated and talked like usual and occasionally cried together. We knew it was…only a matter of time before something really good happened or…
A few days later it happened. The doctor rushed in with the nurses and her heart beat began to fade. They managed to bring her back but she was hooked up to life support and unconscious. I stayed beside her once things had been stabilized; forcing myself to stay awake in case she somehow woke up. And that she did. That night she awoke and gave me that natural, everyday smile of hers. She was still her. We didn’t need to discuss anything, we both knew. I moved in to the bed beside her, holding her with protective arms while she rested against me in my caring arms. I held onto her for literally, dear life.
‘I love you…so much.’
‘I love you too…I love you too…my Songbird.’
I still remember our words, my nickname I’d made for her, and our eyes closing, the world become dark and filled with peaceful dreams. I woke up. She didn’t. I was destroyed, now understanding how her father felt when her mother died, only, unlike him I didn’t turn bitter and angry. What would she say if I did that? We had her buried in the same cemetery as her mother and I stayed there nearly all night, staring, thinking. When I finally left I went back home…our home. The town seemed less lively, empty. I notified her father on his daughter’s death and explained but never got a reply.
Life slowly moved on. But I never got used to her not being there, I never got used to not hearing her melodic voice, talking or singing. I never got used to the emptiness in our house without her there. I never got used to the dreams we had being destroyed. But…she had accomplished her dream. She’d found a home, somewhere she could use her talent and stay permanently.
She was gone though, my songbird was dead. I don’t know…why, why it happened to her. I didn’t question it much though. I rejoiced in every memory of her and slowly, that’s what she became. That’s what her singing became. A slow fading memory but one that she herself would never become.
She was my songbird. She was my song.
☼ ☀ ☼
Written by
The Wolfs Song
