Monday Motivations/Prepare To Be Inspired

Last week, I gave you a picture prompt:

The_Secret_Garden

Often this gets the creative juices going and it certainly did for Geoff Le Pard. He sent in this simply stunning piece of writing, which I just had to share. Sit back, read and be inspired:

Two Become One

They stopped the chair to let him look along his arbour one last time, whispering in foggy ears for him to stir. He didn’t move and they turned, saddened at his incomprehension, but letting him have a private moment.
He smiled as they left. His eyes may be hollow but the westerly breeze showed him the arching boughs; the warming sun coloured in the dappling leaves and the mummeration of the insects stirred the blossom into as clear a picture as from any camera.
He looked back down the long years, back to his sap filled adolescence when the land was brown and the living hard. He had planted his seeds with the tenderness of a lover sowing his own legacy. He nurtured the thin twigs through cruel seasons – sharp winters and harsh unforgiving summers – youthful confidence overcoming the setbacks and slights to his dreams.
He marched with others at a siren’s call to far places where he learned of courage and friendship and inexplicable death. When he returned his hopes lay cracked and neglected, corrupted by indifference and constant dread.
For a time he despaired; as with his dream, he withered, gnarling and twisting away from the light, unhealthy disease seeking an insidious hold in those dank drear places.
They came, with money and paper and saws, offering a refuge from toil and a strong wall to hide his hopes. He prepared to go, it was all too much but some word, floating on a strong westerly caused him to pause. ‘Wait,’ she said.
He had been waiting, ever since those tender, sweet-sweat-softened nights for that word. Like water to a wilted palm, at her touch he unfurled and grew tall. The charlatans and destroyers went, churlish and angry.
Renewed, he bent again to his scheme but now he faced another, bending too, mimicking his swift fingers training, pruning, cropping, feeding, loving.
The twists and gnarls were too deep-set but rather than try and change, rather than risk a fracture, they worked with Nature and as they all grew they leant, slowly at first, but ever constant in their intent until their fingers interlaced and they became one, dancing with and twining into and around each other. Each a different root stock but each reliant on the other for support and shade and health.
Slower now, the work more delicate, intricate, shaping, shaving, giving form to their dreams until the glorious arbour of their love was complete.
Sightless, he looked at his lover, waiting at the end of their arbour, leaning on her stick, her eyes focused on the opposite bough. For the first time in the years since her death he stood and took his place opposite. Carefully he bent towards her and their lips met one last time, melting, melding, becoming one, becoming part of the glory.
When they returned to find the empty chair, their initial apprehension slipped to smiles as they looked on the arbour and recognised the truth, just out of sight, on the edge of the shadows, two become one.

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18 Responses to Monday Motivations/Prepare To Be Inspired

  1. A haunting piece of writing which I enjoyed. I apologise I wasn’t blogging as much last week and missed the photo but have a piece rattling around my head since I saw it.

  2. TanGental says:

    I can’t say thank you enough. Just know it is thank you to the power N where N is gobsmackingly ginormous.

  3. TanGental says:

    Reblogged this on TanGental and commented:
    A major bit if flattery from Esther Newton here. *blushes*

  4. You truly deserve it, Geoff; you are a highly talented writer. Sorry to make you blush again 😉

  5. Rajiv Chopra says:

    What is the current challenge. I like the writing

  6. Annika Perry says:

    Fantastic story, so atmospheric and had me hooked from the start.

  7. Esther, I had this rolling around in my head and have sent it on to you,
    thank you for reminding me I have to keep writing.

    *********
    These few words are to give hope that all is not lost for there are other ancient worlds shimmering a breath away from our modern one.
    If I close my eyes I can see it now as it was then, a world beyond worlds, beyond cruelty, harshness and death.

    I was a child of twelve when it first happened back in 1973. I was walking close to Tara on a Summer evening. The bird song drew me to the spot. I stood looking at the rolling green beneath my feet and felt it – the shimmering of the air. My world tilted, I felt light, I blinked.
    In a sweet instant my belief of what is flipped upside down and inside out.

    I was standing on a pathway, guarded by a line of old magnolia trees. My nose itched with the sweet cloying smell that filled the air. Then I heard the song. At first I was certain it was a strange bird song but as I moved closer I saw it was a young girl who was humming. She was kneeling on the grass at the end of the tunnel of trees busy with her hands creating a daisy chain.
    Her chestnut hair flowed and rippled courtesy of the light playful breeze. She was petite. I could see her face now, snub nose, a dash of freckles racing across her nose and her full lips moving as she hummed.
    I became mesmerized by her flicking, moving hands. The daisy chain was four deep in width and pretty, as a boy who loved creating with wood I could appreciate the intricate beauty of the simple task she had set for herself.
    I sat beside her and she stopped humming to smile.

    “Hi” she said. Those blue eyes bore into mine.
    For a long moment our eyes lingered, acknowledged and that was that.
    “I’ve been waiting for you.” She said.
    I nodded. “I know. This is pretty.” With those words our two worlds were lost behind us as we sat at the top of the hill looking beyond the great halls of Tara. There was only the two of us, the now, the moment.
    We talked for hours and suddenly she stood saying, “You will be missed, I will be missed. Can you come again?”
    “I will.” With that promise my faith was sealed. When I walked back down the path and got to the last two trees the air shimmered and I stepped through back to the world of my birth. I was a little shocked the first time to discover that time had passed while I visited with Grainne. I had been there for two full days. I was berated for not returning home, my chores tripled in an endeavor to teach me how to be responsible.
    The trouble was my responsibilities had shifted – my priority was meeting Grainne again.

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