On Saturday Night
"On Saturday night
Shall be all my care
To powder my locks
And curl my hair
On Sunday morning
My love will come in"
-Rhymes of Mother Goose
and Mirth and laughter radiated from the glowing house that sat indignantly atop the dewy, grassy knoll. The hour was the golden-purple of summer twilight. The timeless entrancing hour when the air is moist and sweet and all things inhuman divine cast away their shrouds and make themselves known, revealing the world's shimmery and mysterious majesty to all who choose to behold it's unearthly magic. It was the hour when things innocent and dimpled lay down their heads and their sugary dreams came alive to mist the eyes of the pitiable skeptical and agnostical and deceive the hearts of the romantic. Lovers called on their shining eyed maidens and the world weary found comfort in the soft, gentle caress of the tangy breeze. Yet even so, the privileged of Bolingbroke chose this supernatural hour to throw their parties and bask in all things earthly and fleeting.
Walter Shirley, however, chose this hour to sit with his worn out back against the vast trunk of a willow, whose graceful bows were swaying in time with the wind music. Around him stood a group of young robust men, their eyes dancing with the mischief that the sprites of twilight often evoked in childish spirits. But Walter did not see them; his eyes saw the splendor of the other realm. The dream world, where admission was more exclusive than the dances of high society, like the one currently occuring on the hill. But the sights were far too wonderful for description and any attempt would be lost on the unfortunate who have not been there themselves. Those who have, know of what I speak.
And explanation for the idleness of such young boys and men in the naive early summer of June, was in fact the exclusiveness of the certain party which was occurring at Mount Holly. The house was just visible enough to be unbearably tantalizing as it peered over the hill at them, in mockery of the stork lottery, in which they had all achieved mediocrity. They had not been invited to the costume ball. All but Walter, who was lost in thought, gazed in envious awe at the masked figures whirling about in the illuminated windows of a world one could not dream oneself into, one had to be born.
"Let's have some fun, boys," said Martin with a mischievous glint in his chocolate eye.
"Vat exactly did you 'ave in mind Marty?" asked François in gurgled accented English.
Their eyes drifted off again to the house upon the hill, the silver screen, whereas they were the audience. They all wanted to be in the movie. Sensing their intentions, Walter spoke, feeling it was his duty as their senior. The group jumped, as they had forgotten he was there.
"Are you honestly willing to sacrifice your jobs for one night of mischief? You know that they have the power to make your entire life a payment for what you might do. This is merely the babble of youth, drunk on fairy dust which floats thickly in the air on evenings such as this," he was slightly resentful of his rude awakening, and overcompensated with bitter logic.
"Oh my, oh my. College boy are we? So high and mighty yet we speak of foolishness like fairies," said a boy named Daniel tauntingly
"Do not try to understand, Daniel. You could not possibly. And if you risk the jobs of all these boys here I will be forced to tell your mother," rebutted Walter coldly and mightily. A sympathetic ooh was issued from the small crowd for Daniel's bruised ego.
"Don't pretend you are better than all of us just because you are older. Mother says dreaming is useless and people who do it are lazy cowards!"
"I am no better than you and I am no coward. Yet I would advise you not to go looking for trouble simply because you are lost in the deserts of tedium." Walter stated calmly, his passionate soul raging to escape. He suppressed it; he would be teaching some of these boys in the fall, he didn't want them to see his weaknesses.
"Not a coward? You won't even go swimming you ninny-
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Walter yelled, rising quickly to his feet. His hands were trembling, he hated this anger, it was ugly and it pierced through the night, disturbing the beauty of the peace.
"Really Daniel, please stop it," tiny Oliver Hiddle said meekly, he perhaps alone knew the dangerous waters into which Daniel was treading.
"FINE! But he's a proud one he is. And what does he have to be proud of? He's a coward," spat Daniel with a little less confidence, he knew he has touched a sensitive nerve.
"Call me a coward for being logical. I suppose logic is the route of the man who takes no risks, yet in the end looses nobly, for without risks there is no gain" said Walter, the heat dissipating from his voice as he sunk back to the base of the willow tree.
"I didn't mean to make you mad Walt. But think of the fun we could have. It's just so hard to sit down here and watch them have all the fun." Dan said apologetically, yet still the boyish flame oftrouble-makinghad not been extinguished from his eye.
"Let's send someone up there. Like a Cinderella. They'll be disguised so no one will recognize them and then they can come back and tell us what it's like," suggested the young Ken Thomas eagerly
"Capital idea! We're just curious and that couldn't possibly hurt anyone. What do you say Walter? Is it logical enough for you college boy?" asked Dan
"Well I guess it would not hurt anyone. But I am playing no part," Walter answered in a resigned yet firm tone.
"But who to send as our Cinderella?" Martin demanded, his eyes on Walter
"Oh no, I could not possibly," protested Walter.
"You are the only one old enough to pull it off!" cried Dan
"Plus, nobody around 'ere knows you yet, you von't be recognized," gurgled François with a tone of dramatic desperation that appealed to Walter.
"Bertha will be there." Oliver said cheekily, he was indeed a very perceptive little urchin andlet us just say he came across a certain sheaf of poems tucked haphazardly under Walter's bunk.
Walter's colour deepened. He praised the lady of the night who hid the sole irrepressible emotion with her veil of intensifying darkness.
"And all you want is a recount of what the upper class consider fun?" said Walter slowly
"Yes. Of course I figured you'd be too sissy," teased Dan, knowing he hadpower now.
Walter stood tall and proud, straightening his collar.
"Alright boys... Have it your way. First find me something to wear and then I will show you, Walter Shirley is no sissy. I may write poetry and dream but I feel that makes me all the stronger. The ability to actually dare to dream and throw open the doors of consciousness, exposing yourself to all sorts of dangers and overwhelming possibilities and yet, great beauty,"
"Yes, well... Mr. Shirley, I think we should get going if you want to arrive in time for the refreshments," said Dan Wallace awkwardly.
"Right, hem hem," answered Walter.
And so, one half of a hurried hour later, a festooned Walter Shirley wasrushing up the hill towards Mount Holly which was now oozing out joy and delightful music from it's seams. Not too far away, at a balcony on the westward wall stood a maiden, slumped with shadowy hopelessness over the intricate railing. Neither had either on their mind, but little did they know of their destiny. It was written in the stars that watched over them both in their despair and anxiousness.
"A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life"