Story - memories

[Broken_mind]

She had never been here on a day like this, when the sky was darker than a raven’s heart and the wind was screaming around her. The cold breath blowing across the fields was suffocating her voice and chilling her bones. She pulled her dusky jacket tighter, remembering his last words to her. As she thought of him, she spilt a tear, the droplets mimicking those of the heavens and the slow screech of the gates as she entered her personal heaven.

The fresh green grass tickled her toes as she ran and giggled, dragging his hand behind her. “Ice cream Papa! Ice cream!” his chuckles making her beam. Then she saw it, highlighted with gold from the sun, her fountain of youth, Mckenzies. It served magic in cones, sprinkled with jewels, more than a girl could ever ask for. She peered at those around her, clinging to his great, worn hands, rough from time, staring at the faces around her, but faded, her memory blurred by time.

But her fountain was blocked now, and her youth had long stopped flowing, boarded up and disgraced by the new young. Obscenities plastered up and down, images of disgusting acts, too filthy to be in her nirvana but it was really no wonder was it. This place had fallen from paradise and was not worth redeeming in their eyes.

The squeak of the chains sang out loud and the children all sang with them. Joyful shouting and screams of pleasure ringing out at they all soared higher. She begged him to teach her how to swing because he always knew everything, that’s just who he was to her and he never said no. He bent down beside her as she smiled like the sun, his eyes soft and wrapping her in love. Then it was her turn “Push me higher Papa! Higher!” She always remembered his words. “I cant Elly or you’ll fly”.

“Elly” that’s what he called her. But it just sounded wrong slipping off anybody else’s tongue. She wove her arms around the rust, locked in the past, eyes trapped in the distance, as she pushed herself back and forth. The concrete glared back, stained and cracked from years of wear. She thought how many girls had played here and how many spirits had left their memories. But she wanted to fly and she was going to. She picked up speed, rain slashing her face, the flecks of rust in her hands. Panting with energy as she tried harder and harder, he said it would happen and he was always right.

But she knew it wouldn’t, how could it, because nothing she wanted ever happened. She had wanted him to move from the cottage. She knew it wasn’t safe with the draft and the decay. The city was warmer, closer, calmer. She would have trusted his doctor if he was from the city.

He kept her safe as she climbed on the frame, the red bars gleaming in the sun, his strong arms as her safety net. She shone with amusement as he held her legs, letting her sit on his shoulders as she swung in the jungle. “Don’t drop me Papa! I’m almost there”. And she was. And she made it.

But he didn’t, he was just too old. Looking back she saw the pain he was in when he came here. His life had been tough, working the fields all day and night. Those bars were high and she was not light. She knew he stayed strong for her, and that’s how she remembered him. This is how she knew he would want to be remembered. Not old and broken like the slide, not cracked and dull like the metal bars just strong and reliable like the iron frame.

She slumped down into the bench, her head in her hands, closing her eyes to remember. Leaning against the gold plaque, the writing burning into her back.
John Roberts
1919-2007
Husband, Dad, Grandpa

“When can we come again Papa”
“Soon Elly. This is my heaven, in my park, with my Granddaughter”

[punk_emo_guitarist]

Wow, that's so good! It made me cry...

[Broken_mind]

aww thanks its about my grandpa. xxx