Amy was the kind of girl at school for whom a young Tom Bradshaw wanted to scrawl ink hearts, with an arrow running through her initials; yes, Amy was made, he assured himself, for the sole purpose of having her name on the back of his English book, Math book, even his Science book; in fact every book Tom had in his school desk.
“Tom,” Amy whispered. “Why have you brought me here?”
“I want to show you something, Amy. Something so secret only I know about it,” he told her. “You must never tell another soul, ever in your life. Promise?”
“I promise, Tom…but won’t you tell me what it is?”
“Just keep low, lay absolutely still. It will come, but you must stay absolutely still.”
They lay quiet as the sky, so still, and flat as dollar-stones in the sand dune; even the mice didn’t know they were there. As each wave approached, turned over, freeing its frothy underskirt, they watched under the brilliance of a full moon.
Amy wondered what made her friend so different. Why he never played with other kids? How he appeared, but never came from anywhere, as though behind some corner, some cloud, and just appeared without journeying. He, on the other hand, wondered about Amy…how when she sat next to him in history lessons, funny things happened in his chest; as if every champagne bottle in the world had popped its cork at exactly the same time.
“Tom,” whispered Amy.
“Yes….?” Tom returned, his gaze focused on the moonlit horizon
“Do you think at night, the sky misses the sun?”
Tom’s gaze shifted. Amy’s eyes were holding the moon’s light.
“Not as much as I miss you, when you’re not in school,” he replied.
“Tom…seriously…do you?”
Tom chuckled. Then in lowered voice, said: “I think it does, I think the sky does miss the sun. But then, imagine you were the moon, and when you came out at night…and saw no one.”
“You’re really weird, Tom. But nicely.”
Tom’s chuckles again revealed themselves, this time bubbling up inside his chest.
“Amy, I read your essay in school today, you know, the one about the Unicorn. It was so beautiful, it made me cry.”
“Teacher said I have a vivid imagination. I’m glad you liked it. Do you believe in Unicorns?” she asked.
“I’ve seen one,” he responded, quietly.
“Tom Bradshaw….!” The next words were stifled under a finger placed against her mouth.
“I have, Amy. It’s the only one left,” said Tom, slowly lowering his hand.
“Where…just where does someone see a Unicorn, Tom?” She asked, her voice quivering with expectation.
“That’s why I had to bring you….it will come tonight. Do you believe me, Amy? And if it does, will you never leave me all my life, will you run on my beach, tell me wild tales, walk amongst the trees hand-in-hand, even in the rain on summer evenings?”
“Tom, I’ll do all those things, if you show me the Unicorn.”
“Then stay really still.” And they did, and Amy’s heart was exploding.
“Amy,” whispered Tom. “Where will you go when you grow up?”
“I don’t know, Tom. I don’t know what is waiting for me, but I’ll never forget you.”
“Are you going away Amy? I’ll miss you.”
“What will you do, Tom?”
“I want to be a hero, better than the good John Wayne. I want to save every whale in the world. I want to write beautiful books, and…” his voice was sincere. “I want you to stay, Amy”
“You’re the nicest boy in school…and the strangest.”
“You’re the most beautiful.” He told her.
“And do you know, Tom. I feel it when I’m with you.”
They were silent again. Amy fell asleep on the sand.
The Unicorn shone brilliant under the power of the moon. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever, ever seen. Smaller than she imagined, with the legs of a deer, dainty, beautiful, while its body is sleek, and powerful. But it’s the head…such a head should belong to no animal. It wades closer, having appeared in the moonlight. What creature ever looked so wonderful? And that head, those eyes, so deep, so true, so bright, holding more truth, more beauty, more love, than she’d ever thought possible. Her breath faltered, missed a beat of blood, as it stood before her. Its proud, beautiful head showing the gold curl of horn that spirals to a fine elegant point, glinting like a wand in the moonlight. The Unicorn sniffs the salt air, stomps his fore-hoof, and waits……..for what? Amy gets slowly to her feet. The Unicorn catches her image in the depth of its eyes. It does not try to escape or run away. With rare confidence she takes a step closer…then another…‘till her own feet were being bathed in the cool water. The eye of the Unicorn never let her image escape. He stands without fear in her life. Raising a trembling arm, she touches the warmth of something unbelievable, something more rare than an angel. She doesn’t know why, but pearls of light are leaving from her eyes, single gems of wonder running down her cheek, forming an oasis. Quietly, she lowers her head and whispers…’I love you.’ Then, almost as if that was all the Unicorn wanted to hear, with silvered grace it walks back into the surfs.
‘Don’t go……don’t go just yet, I need you.’ She whispers. But the Unicorn has to go, for it’s the only one there is, and there are many shores to visit.
“’Amy…Amy…wake up…are you alright? You’re crying.”
Amy stirs, opening her eyes. “Sorry, Tom, I had the most wonderful dream…it was the Unicorn, he came from the sea, Tom. He came from the sea. I understood him, I understood many things. It was a wonderful dream.”
Tom smiled. “A dream, Amy. Do you think so? If it was a dream, how did I see you with the Unicorn…how would I see that?”
Amy sat bolt upright, rested her hand on Tom’s arm.
“You saw it, Tom. You saw me with the Unicorn? The only one there ever was? It spoke to me, Tom, it did. I’m not afraid anymore.”
“That’s good, Amy. You must never be afraid, never.”
“Why did he come from the sea?” She asked.
“Back in the sea it becomes the Narwhal, the most beautiful whale in all the oceans. Every now and then it seeks out someone special, a believer. Tonight he chose you. This means that you are now protected, that your whole life will be lived with a child’s fascination and wonder.”
“Did you really do this for me, Tom?”
“If you must leave me, then do so with a glad heart. I’ll miss you, Amy. As the sky would miss the sun. But one day ahead I will come to find you. You won’t know when, or where. I will just appear in your life, and it will be as though I’ve never been away, do you understand?” And he looked deeply into her eyes.
“I’ll be waiting. Will I know you when you come?”
“Knowing me is not the important thing; being ready is!”
As they walked from the shore, Amy spoke: “Tom…..will you hold my hand?”
“Of course.” And he did.
They were quiet as they walked, the sea whispered its message behind them.
mcullen Post author
Kelly, your writing reminds me of my favorite author, Elizabeth Berg. She brings her characters to life right away. . . so that I feel as though I know them, as if they live alongside me. . . just in a nearby town. You do an expert job of inviting the reader along with your characters on their journeys, asking readers to suspend their disbelief as you relate tales. And you succeed in transporting readers to other worlds. Well-done.
Ke11y
The black telephone rang in its cradle four times before a trembling Katherine, wearing her evening robe, and velvet slippers, finally answered.
‘Please be him,’ she heard herself thinking. ‘Please…please be him’ she thought, closing her eyes, and picking up the receiver with both hands.
‘Honey, are you there?’ the voice asked. ‘I miss you, Katherine, I’m coming home…I’m coming back to you, to write the very best work I’ve ever done.’ But the static on the line broke down those words.
‘Yes, I can just hear you,’ she answered, her heart fulfilled with happiness. “I’m here, come home now,” she pleaded, slumping into his favorite chair, and staring out across the ocean, serene under soft-burning
September skies, that had earlier flamed, and now deepening toward dusk. “The children miss you, the dogs miss you, and even the gulls come round in pairs, wondering where you are.”
The phone line buzzed, crackled, and burned. But still the fire of his words singed their way through the universe to her ears. ‘…can you hear me…I’m coming home…’
Katherine sat in the chair listening to her husband, remembering how it was when they met, the romance of being young together, lying on the wet, cool sand, recalling how good it felt just to lie there, contemplate the lap of the waves, think nothing, feel no pain, to be as nearly dead for a moment as one could be, with eyes closed, the heart unheard, no special temperature to the body, and await life returning. She turned her head to the side and opened her eyes. Tom was even more handsome than her mind’s eye told her. His hair matted with sand and salt water. His chest rising and falling rhythmically. She could not forget her first sight of him, how he smiled at her, how his eyes shone so directly, and now on this far away shoreline, she had made love to him.
When the door of the room opened, Susan entered carrying a tray. ‘You still on the phone, mom. You’re in your robe early this evening.”
“Yes, it’s your father, darling. He’s coming home.”
“I’ve brought you a glass of milk,” Susan responded, placing the tray down next to her mother, “and your favorite biscuits.’ Then came around the back of the chair, placing her hands on mother’s shoulders, and squeezed gently, and kissed the back of her head.
“The doctor said he was very pleased with you.”
“Well, we don’t want your father coming home to an old lady, do we now.” She said, still gripping the phone.
“Drink your milk, mom. It’s time for you to rest.”
“Just a minute, darling, your father is still telling me about his adventures.”
She gripped onto the phone, as if her life depended on it, remembered how they’d walked, tangled together, feeling young, as perfect as angels.
She looked up at her daughter: Your father is reminding me of the day he made his marriage proposal to me. The darling man. We were still walking on the beach as the first star glinted its gold, side-by-side in a great circle of silence, we stopped every now and then to kiss. The red and orange fire was giving way to a ghost of a moon. He told her:
‘I’ve been backing away from life, Katherine. I understand what you feel, and there’s no reason for you to say anything. I feel for you, and it’s as much love. I’ve never quite felt so in touch with anybody. I don’t want to have to explain it, or apologize for it, just to say that it is something of rare beauty. You are a person of rare beauty. I cannot let you go, because I have no desire to feel that kind of absence in my life, ever. You are like the ocean to me, Katherine, like every wave I ever sank beneath. I can’t let you go, because I need you. I know it’s weak, and stupid, but I’ve sailed through life single handed all these years. Now that I’ve I met you – well, I understand what it is to feel lonely.’
With that he took her arm, stopped her walking, held her head, and kissed her passionately.
‘I love you, Katherine. I want to share my life with you, and be more to you. I want to be your husband.’
Katherine felt her heart was free, and blowing south.
Susan picks up the glass of milk, and wraps one arm around the shoulder of her frail and ailing mother, whose eyes glisten with recollection, and together they walk toward the bedroom, while her mom continues to talk on the phone, its disconnected cord trailing behind her…
On the bedside table, under the lamp, worn from twenty years of handling, is the last letter her father wrote to her mother…
I love you, Katie. I don’t want to die, I want to live for you, but I’m afraid this cancer is going to get me, my darling, and isn’t that the worst joke you ever heard. But you are my life, and I will live through you somehow, if there is any way at all, I will come and live through you, with you, in you, and we will go on living together, do you hear me, Katie. We will go on, and we will make beautiful books, paint beautiful pictures, and I will be you, and we will live together and save the beauty of the world. I will be in your body, and your heart, and your soul, we will live and learn together, my glorious Katie.’
Susan tucked her mother in, snugly, kissed her cheek. “Night, mom.”
Katherine fell asleep, still holding the black phone to her ear.
End note:
Do you think some words could be so powerful, so believable, and so utterly right that they could reach through space, through time…and through death’s gateway?’
mcullen Post author
Oh, Kelly. . . more gorgeous writing from you. Truly, there are a handful of writers whose work touch me deeply. You are in that category of writers. This is quite a memorable piece. . . the way you string words together to tell a story . . . gripping. Your pace, word choice, build-up, tense, character development = all good! Keep writing!
Ke11y
Amy was the kind of girl at school for whom a young Tom Bradshaw wanted to scrawl ink hearts, with an arrow running through her initials; yes, Amy was made, he assured himself, for the sole purpose of having her name on the back of his English book, Math book, even his Science book; in fact every book Tom had in his school desk.
“Tom,” Amy whispered. “Why have you brought me here?”
“I want to show you something, Amy. Something so secret only I know about it,” he told her. “You must never tell another soul, ever in your life. Promise?”
“I promise, Tom…but won’t you tell me what it is?”
“Just keep low, lay absolutely still. It will come, but you must stay absolutely still.”
They lay quiet as the sky, so still, and flat as dollar-stones in the sand dune; even the mice didn’t know they were there. As each wave approached, turned over, freeing its frothy underskirt, they watched under the brilliance of a full moon.
Amy wondered what made her friend so different. Why he never played with other kids? How he appeared, but never came from anywhere, as though behind some corner, some cloud, and just appeared without journeying. He, on the other hand, wondered about Amy…how when she sat next to him in history lessons, funny things happened in his chest; as if every champagne bottle in the world had popped its cork at exactly the same time.
“Tom,” whispered Amy.
“Yes….?” Tom returned, his gaze focused on the moonlit horizon
“Do you think at night, the sky misses the sun?”
Tom’s gaze shifted. Amy’s eyes were holding the moon’s light.
“Not as much as I miss you, when you’re not in school,” he replied.
“Tom…seriously…do you?”
Tom chuckled. Then in lowered voice, said: “I think it does, I think the sky does miss the sun. But then, imagine you were the moon, and when you came out at night…and saw no one.”
“You’re really weird, Tom. But nicely.”
Tom’s chuckles again revealed themselves, this time bubbling up inside his chest.
“Amy, I read your essay in school today, you know, the one about the Unicorn. It was so beautiful, it made me cry.”
“Teacher said I have a vivid imagination. I’m glad you liked it. Do you believe in Unicorns?” she asked.
“I’ve seen one,” he responded, quietly.
“Tom Bradshaw….!” The next words were stifled under a finger placed against her mouth.
“I have, Amy. It’s the only one left,” said Tom, slowly lowering his hand.
“Where…just where does someone see a Unicorn, Tom?” She asked, her voice quivering with expectation.
“That’s why I had to bring you….it will come tonight. Do you believe me, Amy? And if it does, will you never leave me all my life, will you run on my beach, tell me wild tales, walk amongst the trees hand-in-hand, even in the rain on summer evenings?”
“Tom, I’ll do all those things, if you show me the Unicorn.”
“Then stay really still.” And they did, and Amy’s heart was exploding.
“Amy,” whispered Tom. “Where will you go when you grow up?”
“I don’t know, Tom. I don’t know what is waiting for me, but I’ll never forget you.”
“Are you going away Amy? I’ll miss you.”
“What will you do, Tom?”
“I want to be a hero, better than the good John Wayne. I want to save every whale in the world. I want to write beautiful books, and…” his voice was sincere. “I want you to stay, Amy”
“You’re the nicest boy in school…and the strangest.”
“You’re the most beautiful.” He told her.
“And do you know, Tom. I feel it when I’m with you.”
They were silent again. Amy fell asleep on the sand.
*********************************************************************
The Unicorn shone brilliant under the power of the moon. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever, ever seen. Smaller than she imagined, with the legs of a deer, dainty, beautiful, while its body is sleek, and powerful. But it’s the head…such a head should belong to no animal. It wades closer, having appeared in the moonlight. What creature ever looked so wonderful? And that head, those eyes, so deep, so true, so bright, holding more truth, more beauty, more love, than she’d ever thought possible. Her breath faltered, missed a beat of blood, as it stood before her. Its proud, beautiful head showing the gold curl of horn that spirals to a fine elegant point, glinting like a wand in the moonlight. The Unicorn sniffs the salt air, stomps his fore-hoof, and waits……..for what? Amy gets slowly to her feet. The Unicorn catches her image in the depth of its eyes. It does not try to escape or run away. With rare confidence she takes a step closer…then another…‘till her own feet were being bathed in the cool water. The eye of the Unicorn never let her image escape. He stands without fear in her life. Raising a trembling arm, she touches the warmth of something unbelievable, something more rare than an angel. She doesn’t know why, but pearls of light are leaving from her eyes, single gems of wonder running down her cheek, forming an oasis. Quietly, she lowers her head and whispers…’I love you.’ Then, almost as if that was all the Unicorn wanted to hear, with silvered grace it walks back into the surfs.
‘Don’t go……don’t go just yet, I need you.’ She whispers. But the Unicorn has to go, for it’s the only one there is, and there are many shores to visit.
*********************************************************************
“’Amy…Amy…wake up…are you alright? You’re crying.”
Amy stirs, opening her eyes. “Sorry, Tom, I had the most wonderful dream…it was the Unicorn, he came from the sea, Tom. He came from the sea. I understood him, I understood many things. It was a wonderful dream.”
Tom smiled. “A dream, Amy. Do you think so? If it was a dream, how did I see you with the Unicorn…how would I see that?”
Amy sat bolt upright, rested her hand on Tom’s arm.
“You saw it, Tom. You saw me with the Unicorn? The only one there ever was? It spoke to me, Tom, it did. I’m not afraid anymore.”
“That’s good, Amy. You must never be afraid, never.”
“Why did he come from the sea?” She asked.
“Back in the sea it becomes the Narwhal, the most beautiful whale in all the oceans. Every now and then it seeks out someone special, a believer. Tonight he chose you. This means that you are now protected, that your whole life will be lived with a child’s fascination and wonder.”
“Did you really do this for me, Tom?”
“If you must leave me, then do so with a glad heart. I’ll miss you, Amy. As the sky would miss the sun. But one day ahead I will come to find you. You won’t know when, or where. I will just appear in your life, and it will be as though I’ve never been away, do you understand?” And he looked deeply into her eyes.
“I’ll be waiting. Will I know you when you come?”
“Knowing me is not the important thing; being ready is!”
As they walked from the shore, Amy spoke: “Tom…..will you hold my hand?”
“Of course.” And he did.
They were quiet as they walked, the sea whispered its message behind them.
mcullen Post author
Kelly, your writing reminds me of my favorite author, Elizabeth Berg. She brings her characters to life right away. . . so that I feel as though I know them, as if they live alongside me. . . just in a nearby town. You do an expert job of inviting the reader along with your characters on their journeys, asking readers to suspend their disbelief as you relate tales. And you succeed in transporting readers to other worlds. Well-done.
Ke11y
The black telephone rang in its cradle four times before a trembling Katherine, wearing her evening robe, and velvet slippers, finally answered.
‘Please be him,’ she heard herself thinking. ‘Please…please be him’ she thought, closing her eyes, and picking up the receiver with both hands.
‘Honey, are you there?’ the voice asked. ‘I miss you, Katherine, I’m coming home…I’m coming back to you, to write the very best work I’ve ever done.’ But the static on the line broke down those words.
‘Yes, I can just hear you,’ she answered, her heart fulfilled with happiness. “I’m here, come home now,” she pleaded, slumping into his favorite chair, and staring out across the ocean, serene under soft-burning
September skies, that had earlier flamed, and now deepening toward dusk. “The children miss you, the dogs miss you, and even the gulls come round in pairs, wondering where you are.”
The phone line buzzed, crackled, and burned. But still the fire of his words singed their way through the universe to her ears. ‘…can you hear me…I’m coming home…’
Katherine sat in the chair listening to her husband, remembering how it was when they met, the romance of being young together, lying on the wet, cool sand, recalling how good it felt just to lie there, contemplate the lap of the waves, think nothing, feel no pain, to be as nearly dead for a moment as one could be, with eyes closed, the heart unheard, no special temperature to the body, and await life returning. She turned her head to the side and opened her eyes. Tom was even more handsome than her mind’s eye told her. His hair matted with sand and salt water. His chest rising and falling rhythmically. She could not forget her first sight of him, how he smiled at her, how his eyes shone so directly, and now on this far away shoreline, she had made love to him.
When the door of the room opened, Susan entered carrying a tray. ‘You still on the phone, mom. You’re in your robe early this evening.”
“Yes, it’s your father, darling. He’s coming home.”
“I’ve brought you a glass of milk,” Susan responded, placing the tray down next to her mother, “and your favorite biscuits.’ Then came around the back of the chair, placing her hands on mother’s shoulders, and squeezed gently, and kissed the back of her head.
“The doctor said he was very pleased with you.”
“Well, we don’t want your father coming home to an old lady, do we now.” She said, still gripping the phone.
“Drink your milk, mom. It’s time for you to rest.”
“Just a minute, darling, your father is still telling me about his adventures.”
She gripped onto the phone, as if her life depended on it, remembered how they’d walked, tangled together, feeling young, as perfect as angels.
She looked up at her daughter: Your father is reminding me of the day he made his marriage proposal to me. The darling man. We were still walking on the beach as the first star glinted its gold, side-by-side in a great circle of silence, we stopped every now and then to kiss. The red and orange fire was giving way to a ghost of a moon. He told her:
‘I’ve been backing away from life, Katherine. I understand what you feel, and there’s no reason for you to say anything. I feel for you, and it’s as much love. I’ve never quite felt so in touch with anybody. I don’t want to have to explain it, or apologize for it, just to say that it is something of rare beauty. You are a person of rare beauty. I cannot let you go, because I have no desire to feel that kind of absence in my life, ever. You are like the ocean to me, Katherine, like every wave I ever sank beneath. I can’t let you go, because I need you. I know it’s weak, and stupid, but I’ve sailed through life single handed all these years. Now that I’ve I met you – well, I understand what it is to feel lonely.’
With that he took her arm, stopped her walking, held her head, and kissed her passionately.
‘I love you, Katherine. I want to share my life with you, and be more to you. I want to be your husband.’
Katherine felt her heart was free, and blowing south.
Susan picks up the glass of milk, and wraps one arm around the shoulder of her frail and ailing mother, whose eyes glisten with recollection, and together they walk toward the bedroom, while her mom continues to talk on the phone, its disconnected cord trailing behind her…
On the bedside table, under the lamp, worn from twenty years of handling, is the last letter her father wrote to her mother…
I love you, Katie. I don’t want to die, I want to live for you, but I’m afraid this cancer is going to get me, my darling, and isn’t that the worst joke you ever heard. But you are my life, and I will live through you somehow, if there is any way at all, I will come and live through you, with you, in you, and we will go on living together, do you hear me, Katie. We will go on, and we will make beautiful books, paint beautiful pictures, and I will be you, and we will live together and save the beauty of the world. I will be in your body, and your heart, and your soul, we will live and learn together, my glorious Katie.’
Susan tucked her mother in, snugly, kissed her cheek. “Night, mom.”
Katherine fell asleep, still holding the black phone to her ear.
End note:
Do you think some words could be so powerful, so believable, and so utterly right that they could reach through space, through time…and through death’s gateway?’
mcullen Post author
Oh, Kelly. . . more gorgeous writing from you. Truly, there are a handful of writers whose work touch me deeply. You are in that category of writers. This is quite a memorable piece. . . the way you string words together to tell a story . . . gripping. Your pace, word choice, build-up, tense, character development = all good! Keep writing!