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Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Lullabyes
It is a poor house in the forest at least, it looks it from the outside. The walls are made of greying wood, knotty and full of holes. A second story has been hastily tacked on.
Around the door there is no grass - it has all been worn away. It iss only mud now. There are dandelions, however. Somehow they still sprout prolifically, anywhere the mud will support them. They appear the favoured flower in the little garden, although a tulip, mangled a little by squirrels, gives off two leaves and a flower, missing all but one petal. You can still call it a flower, however.
Inside is dark. The glass of the windows is muddied and doesn't let too much of the evening light in. A bed sits in the corner - the only bed in the house. The blankets are dirty and a little ragged around the corners, but someone still lies under them.
The child, she sleeps with a deathly palor. She is not breathing anymore. The blankets are slipping down off her and her white hand, deathly cold it seems, is falling off the bed.
The girl, she won't laugh anymore or see the morning come once again. This is the end of the day for her and she will not see another. But she doesn't seem to mind because she lays there, still. There is no protest of complaint on her lips so we must assume this death is alright.
Daddy comes to kiss her goodnight. The little girl is already asleep though, so he tucks the blankets up around her chin - she seems a little cold. He whispers a prayer and then sings the girl a lullabye - the one he sings her everynight.
The next night he does the same thing and every night for a hundred years. He always sings the lullabye. A hundred years go by and still he tucks her in every night. The cabin rots and falls down around them but they pay it no mind. The forest comes in and takes over and in the fall showers dead leaves down around them but they don't notice. A hundred years pass and nothing changes. Still this lullabye haunts the forest night after night with its coming as Daddy sings to the girl who is so cold.
©2004 All Rights Reserved MJ Jackson
This article may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the permission of the author.
Around the door there is no grass - it has all been worn away. It iss only mud now. There are dandelions, however. Somehow they still sprout prolifically, anywhere the mud will support them. They appear the favoured flower in the little garden, although a tulip, mangled a little by squirrels, gives off two leaves and a flower, missing all but one petal. You can still call it a flower, however.
Inside is dark. The glass of the windows is muddied and doesn't let too much of the evening light in. A bed sits in the corner - the only bed in the house. The blankets are dirty and a little ragged around the corners, but someone still lies under them.
The child, she sleeps with a deathly palor. She is not breathing anymore. The blankets are slipping down off her and her white hand, deathly cold it seems, is falling off the bed.
The girl, she won't laugh anymore or see the morning come once again. This is the end of the day for her and she will not see another. But she doesn't seem to mind because she lays there, still. There is no protest of complaint on her lips so we must assume this death is alright.
Daddy comes to kiss her goodnight. The little girl is already asleep though, so he tucks the blankets up around her chin - she seems a little cold. He whispers a prayer and then sings the girl a lullabye - the one he sings her everynight.
The next night he does the same thing and every night for a hundred years. He always sings the lullabye. A hundred years go by and still he tucks her in every night. The cabin rots and falls down around them but they pay it no mind. The forest comes in and takes over and in the fall showers dead leaves down around them but they don't notice. A hundred years pass and nothing changes. Still this lullabye haunts the forest night after night with its coming as Daddy sings to the girl who is so cold.
©2004 All Rights Reserved MJ Jackson
This article may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the permission of the author.
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