The Voices
Disclaimer: Scooby Doo and all related characters are owned by Hanna-Barbera, Warner Bros.,and Cartoon Network. All other characters, names, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, places, and incidents is coincidental.
I wait. It's not the darkness that bothers me; I've grown accustomed to the darkness, it's the loneliness. I am not alone here in this darkened room; but I am the only one of my kind. I've heard the voices speak of "yesterday", "today", "tomorrow", and from what I can understand of "time" from the voices, I have been here many "yesterdays", whatever that means. And so, I wait for her to return.
Before I was exiled to this room, she was there. She was light upon my back; I carried her with ease throughout our adventures together. Sometimes we helped settle the old west, chasing outlaws and bringing them to justice. Other times we fought fierce dragons and saved princesses. My favorite was just racing with the wind through a flowered meadow; She upon my back, my thick golden mane blowing in her face as she leaned on my neck, urging me on. We had many adventures together and when one adventure ended, "tomorrow" would bring another.
I don't know what happened, only that it did. We had just put "Black Bart" in jail, our adventure complete, when I lost the spring in my step. "You're a big girl now, honey, it's time to put Charger out to pasture. He's old and needs a rest." The tall man had lifted her off my back.
"But Dad," she cried, "He's not old."
But I was "old"! I didn't want to admit it but she was heavier now, harder to carry. She wasn't a little girl any more. I tried my best, I really did, but "time" had stolen our magic, her imagination. That was when I was dragged up the stairs and exiled into the darkness. She cried that day, pleading for Dad not to put me up here.
I cried too; it's not easy, this getting "old". My creaks protested loudly as I was placed here in this corner. She gives my neck a farewell hug and loving pat before Dad takes her hand and leads her away. Dad turns out the light and I was left here in the darkness. Alone. Forgotten.
I can still hear the voices; floating up into this lonely place. I can hear her, in her room below. Late at night when the house is quiet, I can hear her as this thing called "time" slips past into "yesterdays".
I want to comfort her when I hear the soft sobs of a "date" (whatever that is) gone bad. I want to jump with joy with her when she laughs; I want to feel her on my back and race the wind again. But that will never happen, I am "old" and have no place in her life as she "grows up" (that's what the voices say, that she is growing up).
"He asked me to marry him!" I hear the familiar voice say and wonder what this "marry" is. It must be a good thing because the voices fill the house with excitement. There must be a lot to do to prepare for this "marry" because the house is filled with sounds of joy and laughter. I do not know this "he" of which the voices speak but I'm glad; she laughs herself to sleep at night and I can hear the sound of a new adventure in her voice.
The "today" arrives. The day of this thing "marry". She sounds so happy. I want to carry her to this "wedding", my golden mane flowing; I would carry her as I did when we went on our adventures. I want to but I know it isn't to be. I hate being "old".
She is gone! The voices I hear the voices say she's on a "honeymoon" then they will be moving into their own home. The quietness covers the house like a blanket. The darkness is permeating, filling every corner of this room with its nothingness but it's the loneliness that I feel the most. I still hear the voices but she is no longer here. The "tomorrows" turn into "yesterdays", "yesterdays" of solitude.
-------------Xxxxxx
"She will be here tomorrow!" I hear the voice say. Many "tomorrows" have passed into "yesterdays" since the "wedding" and "honeymoon"; my ears perk up at this news. Can it be true? Will she actually be here tomorrow? I yearn to hear her voice, hear her laughter again. My solitude doesn't feel so oppressive "today"! I try to jump with joy but not one creak can I muster; I need her magic but she is "grown up" now, I wonder if she has lost all her magic?
It is "tomorrow" and I hear the front door open, "We're here!" I hear the familiar voice call out. Oh, how I would like to see her! To see how much she has grown! To feel her fingers slide down my neck, to feel her on my back. Just once! Just one more time! Oh, to be "young" again! I try harder to move; I want to join them in their joy, but without her magic, I'm a prisoner in my exile.
"We're pregnant!" she announces and I wonder what this new development is. Does it take both of them to be this "pregnant"? Shouts of joy follow this announcement and questions of "when is the baby due?" float upwards to me. "Baby?" What is this "Baby" I wonder?
I hear the voices as they talk and eat; voices that fill the home with love. Gradually the voices diminish until I can hear only the two voices that remain, "With the new baby, would you like some of your old toys, or stuffed animals?" The one voice asks.
"Mom, you never threw out anything!" She admonishes but there is love in the admonishment.
"Leave the dishes...let's go upstairs and see if there is any thing you want to have," mom says and I hear the sounds of chairs being pushed back. I know what chairs are, there are several old chairs here.
Will they actually come up into this dusty, forgotten prison where all the old toys have been "put out to pasture"? I hear their footsteps mounting the stairs, one old and heavy; the other young and light. The door opens and the light nearly blinds me but I can see...
She is as beautiful now as when she rode upon my back, "Mom! You kept him!" she cries out.
"He was your favorite," is the reply, "your dad and I didn't have the heart to get rid of him. I think we could find some one to refurbish him if you want." I wonder if this "refurbish' will hurt?
"Do you think..." she leaves the question unfinished with a tremor in that lilting voice. Her fingers trace a line along my neck.
"I don't see why not...just be careful, you're expecting remember."
Carefully, slowly she climbs up, sitting side saddle upon my back. I groan and creak with the added weight. She has grown up but it feels good to have her on my back once more. I look deep inside her, looking for the magic we shared so long ago. I sense the new life within her womb; I sense the magic of many yesterdays past but it is there.
I wait. I wait for the command. Does she remember the special command we shared. The command that made all our adventures possible. I feel her weight shift, feel her lean down against my neck, I hear the whispered words, "Are you ready for one more ride?" Of course I'm ready! I've been waiting all those yesterdays for this moment!
"On, Charger! Let's Go, Charger! Up!" Her whispered command is loud in my head and with a little magic and faster than the blink of an eye, the groans and creaks are forgotten. I rear up on my hind hoofs, pawing the air with my front hoofs! I am not old! Once more outlaws will run from us, dragons will slither back into their caves in fear! I am not made of wood, metal springs and papier mache!
I AM CHARGER, THE GOLDEN PALAMINO! My mane flows back into her face! I hear her laughter! We race across the meadow, dust erupts in our wake. I feel young and alive because Velma is back! Velma has returned! "Faster! Go, Charger! Go faster!"
I am happy to comply.
-------Xxxxxx
She slips from my saddle, the ride ended. She caresses my neck, slaps my haunch in her loving way of yesteryear, "thank you for that one last ride," she whispers, rubbing her stomach.
On a "tomorrow" Velma will bring her daughter, (I sensed that new life was a girl), and place her on my back. We will have lots of new adventures together. Perhaps, I will take her to the meadow and show her where her mother and I raced the wind. One. Last. Time. Until then, I listen to the voices and...
I wait.
The End