This is a little scene I thought up the other day
IN LOVING MEMORY
This is a little scene I thought up the other day...
Hallie sat down by the gravestone with a sigh, dumping her school-bag on the wet grass and sitting on her anorak.
"Hello again, Mum," she said with a grin. "I've had a rather weird week at Bloor's, actually."
The gravestone said nothing, unsurprisingly.
Hallie shook out her long blonde hair and gazed at the bunch of flowers at the foot of the stone.
"Dad's already been, I see," she continued. "I told him to get the daffodils, by the way."
Still the stone sat mute. Hallie was unperturbed, however. She continued to chat glibly to the cold grey stone as if to a person.
"Do you want to hear about this week?" she asked, talking nineteen-to-the-dozen. "Well, it started on Monday when Octavian yelled at me because it rained on his papers, and said I was worse than Dad," here she paused for breath and glowered, a wind stirring the drifts of fallen leaves. "And then Jenny was in a sulk with everyone because she's been moved from first violin to second, and so she's grumpy with everyone. Then Mathy fell down the stairs and has broken his leg, so I need to get Dad to run me over to the hospital to see him."
The stone sat unmoved in the frozen ground.
"And to top it all off, I forgot my homework!" Hallie finished dramatically, her blue eyes following the swoops of the birds in the cold grey sky above. A light drizzle fell on her face, and she leant back to savour the cool touch of the breeze as it played with her hair.
She sat in silence for a while, watching the birds, before asking suddenly, "Do you mind being stuck in the earth with the worms and stuff?"
No answer. Hallie sighed again and looked at her watch. "Dad'll be here soon. I'm starving."
She sat up and frowned at the stone, reading the inscription that she knew off by heart. Her lips formed the words as she read them, and her eyebrows relaxed into a smile.
A twig cracked from the tall dark pines behind her. She swung around to see the tall shape of her father approaching through the curling tendrils of mist, a bunch of white flowers in one hand.
Tancred Torsson stopped and laid the flowers next to the daffodils, and smiled down at his daughter.
"Good week at school?" he asked, his stiff blond hair crackling imperceptibly.
"Yeah," Hallie replied, getting to her feet. "But Mathonwy's broken his leg."
"I'll run you over to the hospital tomorrow," he promised, picking up her bag for her and swinging it onto his shoulder. "But at the moment spaghetti bolognaise is calling."
"I'm starving!" Hallie agreed, folding her anorak over her arm. "See you later, Mum."
Tancred glanced sadly at the tombstone. He swallowed as the wind sighed mournfully through the long grass, but he didn't say anything.
As they walked away, Hallie glanced over her shoulder at the inscription yet again.
In loving memory
Emma Nancy Torsson, born Tolly,
Died on the 17th October 2021, aged 29.
She shall never be forgotten.
"Through storm and bitter weather,
A little bird sang unscathed.
Though death's chasm parts us,
We shall remember those sunnier days."
Yeah, I know, a little soppy. I have probably ruined my reputation forever, now. Oh well. sighs The mood just came over me, and I got this picture of a blonde girl talking away to a gravestone before going home with her father.
-For reference, Octavian Bloor is Manfred's son; Jennifer Gunn (Jenny), is Fidelio and Olivia's daughter (one of many) and one of Hallie's best friends; Mathonwy Bone is Charlie and Naren's son.
-Emma died when Hallie was six, and now Hallie's ten and has just started at Bloor's.
-I guessed that Emma was born in the same year as Charlie, and on the family tree in the hardbacks, he's born in 1992. I think I got my Maths right...
-I wrote the poem myself, and I know it sucks, but I couldn't find a suitable one...
I also like this poem, though it wasn't quite right, and a bit long:
I meant to do my work today...
But a brown bird sang in the apple tree.
And a butterfly flitted across the field,
And all the leaves were calling me.
And the wind went sighing over the land,
Tossing the grasses to and fro,
And a rainbow held out its shining hand...
So what could I do but laugh and go?
By Richard LeGallienne
And this poem...:
Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain;
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush;
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there; I did not die.
Author Unknown
R&R, even though it's a one-shot. I might do a new story with my next generation, if enough people want it. And I'm stuck for ideas about Olivia's Birthday. Can anyone help?
I WILL update The Ghosts sometime soon when I find the time to do a good, long chapter... sighs
R&R!!