Dame Martha's efforts to marry her son doubled after he almost confessed his love for Margaret. The lady saw that predisposition of her son as a dangerous inclination, at least until he was married. She liked the girl, but she wasn't fit to be her son's wife, her social status made her a concubine, rather. So she filled her son's time with dates, and Margaret knew well, as she was the one writing the invitations.
It was a hard time for Margaret, she had to witness James talking to pretty girls, and them laughing at something he had said, while she couldn't even talk to him. Her body longed for his, and her mind for his conversation. She missed him despite seeing him everyday. Furthermore, Dame Martha couldn't stop commenting on her son's suitors, oblivious of the fact that Margaret was in love with him.
James was going crazy, too. Even if he refused each and every one of the girls, his mother would always find more. He started to hate having been born in a rich family, although he knew there was no other way he would have met Margaret. He would spend his afternoons with the high society girls his mother found him thinking of a way out. Such was his stress that he fell sick with the flu. Dame Martha took pity of him and decided to give him a break, coinciding with a one week trip she had planned to the capital. She would have taken Margaret too, but she was staying at a friend's house and there wasn't any more space.
Dame Martha's departure was like a ray of sunshine. It meant no more interminable dates, and more time in the library. James and Margaret tried to catch up, but it was not enough, it was never enough, and there was always someone close to eavesdrop. Still, they were together, it was happiness, and Margaret wasn't sure she could live without it anymore.
The day before Dame Martha returned, Margaret took a decision, her only way out. If they wanted to be together they needed to be brave. She thought about it during the whole day, and, at night, she sneaked into James room. He was already asleep, still tired from his illness, so she shook him softly to wake him up. Before he was able to say anything she kissed him, took off her robe and got into his bed. They made love, silently, muffling each other's moans with their lips. It had been too long since they had shared a bed. Too long for their young thirst. As silently as she had entered, she left ignoring James' questions.
The following morning, she had left. James found a note on his desk, the same note he was holding at that moment, "If you love me, meet me at the train station". He remembered spending the whole morning considering it. He loved her more than anything, but he could not vanish into nothingness, or could he? People disappeared all the time. Still, he had responsibilities, but also the right to be happy. When he had finally made up his mind, and was about to head out to the station, Dame Martha arrived.
-James, son! I see you are fully recovered. How nice of you to come greet your mother.
In a second, all his opportunities of escape vanished. As he looked at the note, five years later, he wished he had taken the decision earlier. "If you love me, meet me at the train station". "I still love you Margaret, I still do", he muttered.
8/30/2014
A Story A Day. Story 238 of 365: Pearl (VII).
Summer's end arrived and caught them deeply in love. It was time to go back to the country house, to real life. Time to hide their romance once again. Their last night at the beach house was sleepless. They made love to each other in any way they could think of. Knowing they wouldn't be able to touch each other for a long time. As soon as the sun rose, Margaret went back to her role as handmaid, and James treated her politely but keeping the distance. Their actions didn't show there was something more, but their eyes did.
The return to the country house was hard for everyone. Richard was still there, as he would return to the Army one week later, and he did hurtful commentaries over Margaret. It didn't become more because James interfered once again. Dame Martha hadn't arrived, but she was bound to during the following days. Because of the Dame's absence, Margaret managed to spend most of her time at the library, where James occasionally joined her to discuss about politics or literature. They never went further, however, knowing that the house had a thousand eyes.
Routine soon settled back into the household, with Richard leaving and Dame Martha retaking her position. The lady had returned from her stay with her sister rejuvenated. She was still young, but widowhood had sunk deep into her bones. She also had an idea in her mind, her son needed to marry, and soon. She discussed it one day with James, and Margaret happened to be close enough to overhear.
-James, son, I think you should start thinking about marriage. You need to form a family, settle down.
-But mother, I am still young, I am only twenty-three.
-I am not saying you need to marry now. I am saying you need to start thinking about it, find a suitable girl, court her. It is not easy.
The thought made James sick, even if he knew his mother meant well, he couldn't help but feel she was treating girls like horses.
-And what about love?
-You don't need love at first, it might come with time.
-I will think about it, mother.
And think about it he did, he thought about it the whole day and the whole night. He was still thinking about it when he entered the library and the door closed behind him. He looked around, startled, and saw Margaret holding the door shut behind her back.
-What are you going to do?- she asked, anger and sadness mixed in her voice.
-I don't know. You are the one I want to marry. You know that, but my mother won't allow it.
-It is worth trying. What do you have to lose?
-It's difficult, Margaret, and you know it.
-I only know that I want to be able to kiss you without hiding, to sleep in your bed everyday. This is what I want.
She kissed him lightly on the lips and left without a word. During the following week they didn't almost speak, they would met on the corridors his eyes full of sorrow, hers full of pride. Dame Martha had started inviting the young daughters of her social circle. Most of them were lovely, but docile. James decided to make an effort to please her mother, but he found most of them uninteresting.
-I don't think this is working, mother.- he confessed.
-What are you looking for, son? These are the finest young ladies of the region, any of them would become an extraordinary wife.
-They are boring, mother.
-Boring?
-Yes, boring. I want someone who stimulates me intellectually. Someone like Margaret.
-I won't deny Margaret is an extraordinary young lady, but she is not from your social status, and you know it.- she didn't add anything else, but it was implied she thought the maid was not enough for her firstborn.
-Yes mother, I know it.
Margaret met him at their usual place the following day. James didn't need to say anything, she knew by his miserable looks. They had always known their love was impossible, but they held some hope. That afternoon none of them said a word, they just looked into each other's eyes and felt loved.
The return to the country house was hard for everyone. Richard was still there, as he would return to the Army one week later, and he did hurtful commentaries over Margaret. It didn't become more because James interfered once again. Dame Martha hadn't arrived, but she was bound to during the following days. Because of the Dame's absence, Margaret managed to spend most of her time at the library, where James occasionally joined her to discuss about politics or literature. They never went further, however, knowing that the house had a thousand eyes.
Routine soon settled back into the household, with Richard leaving and Dame Martha retaking her position. The lady had returned from her stay with her sister rejuvenated. She was still young, but widowhood had sunk deep into her bones. She also had an idea in her mind, her son needed to marry, and soon. She discussed it one day with James, and Margaret happened to be close enough to overhear.
-James, son, I think you should start thinking about marriage. You need to form a family, settle down.
-But mother, I am still young, I am only twenty-three.
-I am not saying you need to marry now. I am saying you need to start thinking about it, find a suitable girl, court her. It is not easy.
The thought made James sick, even if he knew his mother meant well, he couldn't help but feel she was treating girls like horses.
-And what about love?
-You don't need love at first, it might come with time.
-I will think about it, mother.
And think about it he did, he thought about it the whole day and the whole night. He was still thinking about it when he entered the library and the door closed behind him. He looked around, startled, and saw Margaret holding the door shut behind her back.
-What are you going to do?- she asked, anger and sadness mixed in her voice.
-I don't know. You are the one I want to marry. You know that, but my mother won't allow it.
-It is worth trying. What do you have to lose?
-It's difficult, Margaret, and you know it.
-I only know that I want to be able to kiss you without hiding, to sleep in your bed everyday. This is what I want.
She kissed him lightly on the lips and left without a word. During the following week they didn't almost speak, they would met on the corridors his eyes full of sorrow, hers full of pride. Dame Martha had started inviting the young daughters of her social circle. Most of them were lovely, but docile. James decided to make an effort to please her mother, but he found most of them uninteresting.
-I don't think this is working, mother.- he confessed.
-What are you looking for, son? These are the finest young ladies of the region, any of them would become an extraordinary wife.
-They are boring, mother.
-Boring?
-Yes, boring. I want someone who stimulates me intellectually. Someone like Margaret.
-I won't deny Margaret is an extraordinary young lady, but she is not from your social status, and you know it.- she didn't add anything else, but it was implied she thought the maid was not enough for her firstborn.
-Yes mother, I know it.
Margaret met him at their usual place the following day. James didn't need to say anything, she knew by his miserable looks. They had always known their love was impossible, but they held some hope. That afternoon none of them said a word, they just looked into each other's eyes and felt loved.
8/29/2014
A Story A Day. Story 237 of 365: Pearl (VI).
As the days passed, James and Margaret grew bolder. They would sneak and kiss whenever there was no one to see them. Dame Martha had send them a telegram saying she would return directly to the country house, so they didn't need to worry about her. Soon, kissing was not enough, but James didn't want to push Margaret, he didn't want her to think he was taking profit of her. James wasn't his brother, and he wanted her to know that. So, even if he didn't want anything more than to make love to her, he restrained himself. Margaret could see that, and she appreciated it. Yet, she was making him wait because she wanted to do things under her own terms.
Margaret's birthday was in the middle of the summer. James demanded the kitchen servants to prepare something special, although nothing too sumptuous. It was Miss Margaret's birthday, and he wanted to honor her for the help she had been to his lady mother, he told them. It was a frugal dinner, delicious, but not too exotic. James insisted on opening a select bottle of wine, and although Margaret politely refused, he opened it anyway. They stayed in the balcony sitting next to each other, watching the sunset.
-Thank you, James, it has been the best birthday.
-It is not over yet.
-I know.- she smiled.
Margaret went downstairs to the kitchen, as she did every day, to bid farewell to the workers and discuss the menu for the following day. She next closed the main gates. When she went back to the balcony, James had fallen asleep. She kissed him on his tanned forehead, nose, and finally on the lips. He woke up and responded eagerly. Margaret stopped and took him by the hand. She lead him to his bedroom.
-It is past time we do something we have both been waiting for.
With a swift movement she took out her dress, revealing her bare skin. James drank her with his eyes, still not believing it was real. He must have stayed staring for a long time, because Margaret complained.
-So, are you going to get naked or not?
There was urgency in her voice, making him hurry to undress. He didn't do it as gracefully as she had, but, even if Margaret had already seen him in a swimsuit, the effect was similar.
-I thought you were in a hurry.- he joked.
She jumped at him and took control. As before, their bodies fit perfectly. He caressed her freckled skin, afterwards, wondering once again, why that fantastic woman had chosen him.
They slept little during the remaining of the summer. Days were for pretending, nights were for love. And it all was drawing to an end.
"If you love me, meet me at the train station". Of course, he loved her.
Margaret's birthday was in the middle of the summer. James demanded the kitchen servants to prepare something special, although nothing too sumptuous. It was Miss Margaret's birthday, and he wanted to honor her for the help she had been to his lady mother, he told them. It was a frugal dinner, delicious, but not too exotic. James insisted on opening a select bottle of wine, and although Margaret politely refused, he opened it anyway. They stayed in the balcony sitting next to each other, watching the sunset.
-Thank you, James, it has been the best birthday.
-It is not over yet.
-I know.- she smiled.
Margaret went downstairs to the kitchen, as she did every day, to bid farewell to the workers and discuss the menu for the following day. She next closed the main gates. When she went back to the balcony, James had fallen asleep. She kissed him on his tanned forehead, nose, and finally on the lips. He woke up and responded eagerly. Margaret stopped and took him by the hand. She lead him to his bedroom.
-It is past time we do something we have both been waiting for.
With a swift movement she took out her dress, revealing her bare skin. James drank her with his eyes, still not believing it was real. He must have stayed staring for a long time, because Margaret complained.
-So, are you going to get naked or not?
There was urgency in her voice, making him hurry to undress. He didn't do it as gracefully as she had, but, even if Margaret had already seen him in a swimsuit, the effect was similar.
-I thought you were in a hurry.- he joked.
She jumped at him and took control. As before, their bodies fit perfectly. He caressed her freckled skin, afterwards, wondering once again, why that fantastic woman had chosen him.
They slept little during the remaining of the summer. Days were for pretending, nights were for love. And it all was drawing to an end.
"If you love me, meet me at the train station". Of course, he loved her.
8/28/2014
A Story A Day. Story 236 of 365: Pearl (V).
Even if the environment was more relaxed, they still had to pretend they didn't have feelings for each other. They could be more friendly, but to a point. In the end, Dame Martha was always with them. That changed quite unexpectedly when Dame Martha received a telegram from her younger sister, Dianne. Dianne was ten years younger than her, and pregnant with her fourth child. Dame Martha's sister asked her to go help her with the delivery, her husband was away, and she was feeling helpless.
-I will be leaving tomorrow, dear. - she told her son.- I am leaving Margaret to take care of the house, and you.
James couldn't believe his luck. Even if they would need to keep their forms out of the house, they would be alone most of the time, as the only servants they had were at the kitchen and they spent the night at their own homes.
Dame Martha left the following morning, promising to send a telegram as soon as she arrived to her sister's.
-Have fun, children. Take care of him, Margaret, don't let him go chase away the town girls.
Margaret smiled and did a curtsey, she had fashioned her hair in a low bun that day, and it got loose as she inclined. She dismissed herself as Dame Martha gave James some final indications. He found her sitting at the edge of the low wall at the end of the garden. She had left her hair loose and it was flowing with the wind. James climbed by her side, looking at the sea. They were so close they almost touched, but James was too scared to make the first move.
-James.- called Margaret softly.
-Yes?
-Why can't we live like this forever? Just you and me, staring at the sea. It would be so wonderful.
She leaned her head against his shoulder and took his left hand with her right. It was the first real physical contact they had ever had, and yet it felt so familiar. And they had an unlimited amount of time on their hands, but no one wanted to rush it.
It wasn't until the evening when they took a step further. During dinner, they had spoken respectfully to each other, wary of the kitchen servants. James talked about politics and business, and she would only assent and ask polite questions. As soon as the servants retired and left for the night everything changed. Margaret insisted on going back to their place on the wall. She sat wrapping his arms around her, as if he were her shield. Her legs swung over the edge, and she closed her eyes. James looked at her, unable to believe his luck for having found her, but also hating that they had been born in different social classes. She lay down, her head on his lap, and stared at him with her green eyes.
-What are you thinking about? - she asked.
-I was thinking I am really glad we started speaking, otherwise I would have never discovered what an extraordinary human being you are.- he replied, playing with her hair.- I was thinking I love you, and I don't think I will ever love as much anyone else in my lifetime.
-James.- she said as she stood up.
-Yes?
-Kiss me.
Their first kiss served to confirm what they had felt in the morning, their bodies were made for each other, they had found home. And, somehow it only made it worse. Margaret knew that as soon as Dam Martha returned it would be over forever, yet a part of her resisted to face it. James decided to ignore the problem altogether, thinking he would find a way around.
-I will be leaving tomorrow, dear. - she told her son.- I am leaving Margaret to take care of the house, and you.
James couldn't believe his luck. Even if they would need to keep their forms out of the house, they would be alone most of the time, as the only servants they had were at the kitchen and they spent the night at their own homes.
Dame Martha left the following morning, promising to send a telegram as soon as she arrived to her sister's.
-Have fun, children. Take care of him, Margaret, don't let him go chase away the town girls.
Margaret smiled and did a curtsey, she had fashioned her hair in a low bun that day, and it got loose as she inclined. She dismissed herself as Dame Martha gave James some final indications. He found her sitting at the edge of the low wall at the end of the garden. She had left her hair loose and it was flowing with the wind. James climbed by her side, looking at the sea. They were so close they almost touched, but James was too scared to make the first move.
-James.- called Margaret softly.
-Yes?
-Why can't we live like this forever? Just you and me, staring at the sea. It would be so wonderful.
She leaned her head against his shoulder and took his left hand with her right. It was the first real physical contact they had ever had, and yet it felt so familiar. And they had an unlimited amount of time on their hands, but no one wanted to rush it.
It wasn't until the evening when they took a step further. During dinner, they had spoken respectfully to each other, wary of the kitchen servants. James talked about politics and business, and she would only assent and ask polite questions. As soon as the servants retired and left for the night everything changed. Margaret insisted on going back to their place on the wall. She sat wrapping his arms around her, as if he were her shield. Her legs swung over the edge, and she closed her eyes. James looked at her, unable to believe his luck for having found her, but also hating that they had been born in different social classes. She lay down, her head on his lap, and stared at him with her green eyes.
-What are you thinking about? - she asked.
-I was thinking I am really glad we started speaking, otherwise I would have never discovered what an extraordinary human being you are.- he replied, playing with her hair.- I was thinking I love you, and I don't think I will ever love as much anyone else in my lifetime.
-James.- she said as she stood up.
-Yes?
-Kiss me.
Their first kiss served to confirm what they had felt in the morning, their bodies were made for each other, they had found home. And, somehow it only made it worse. Margaret knew that as soon as Dam Martha returned it would be over forever, yet a part of her resisted to face it. James decided to ignore the problem altogether, thinking he would find a way around.
8/27/2014
A Story A Day. Story 235 of 365: Pearl (IV).
The library became their secret nest. After confessing their love for each other they started meeting more frequently, with the excuse of summer traveling planning. When they met they would talk about everything and nothing, about their childhood. They would get to know each other better. They also talked about the great love stories, deciding to ignore the problems they faced, Penelope and Ulysses, Zeus and Europa, Mark Antony and Cleopatra, those were more important. In the meantime, they had to keep the distance, their roles as master and maid, despite their desires of touching each other. No one could know about their budding romance.
Summer arrived, and with it Dame Martha's pilgrimage to their house by the sea, it was her heirloom. Dam Martha had spent all of her childhood's summers in there, and, when it became hers, she brought her family along. That summer, she and Margaret would go earlier, and James would join later after. He had to receive Richard back into the family's house.
It was the first time Margaret had seen the sea, and she was fascinated by it. To Dame Martha the sea was like an old friend who still keeps secrets for himself. The house wasn't too big, but still magnificent. It had a big balcony over the garden overlooking the sea, where they would have their meals. When Dame Martha and Margaret arrived, everything was already set, and the only thing Margaret had to do was unpack the Dame's luggage. The older woman stayed in the room while her handmaid hung the clothes, and something caught her eye.
-Margaret, dear. I have just seen there are some old dresses of mine in the closet. They are not much, modest summer dresses I used t wear when I was young and I had no social compromises, but I was thinking that they would fit you quite well, and they are more adequate for this heat than your maid's uniform. Why don't you use these while we are here? I will feel more comfortable walking around with you if you don't look so formal.
Margaret couldn't believe what she was hearing, she hated that uniform. It was her chance to ditch it away for a while.
-As you say, Dame Martha.
The Dame took the matter on her hand and selected half a dozen dresses. They were modest, in colors ranging from beige to light blue. Still, they were the most beautiful dresses Margaret had ever had.
-Thank you, Dame Martha.- she said as she took the dresses.
-Now, go change, Margaret. I want to go for a walk.
-Yes, Dame Martha.
Margaret walked to her room, it was bigger than the one she used to occupy at the country house. It had belonged to one of the Dame's sisters. She took out her uniform and picked a light blue dress. It made her look her age. She also decided to take out the bonnet and leave her hair loose. Her auburn curls fell all over her shoulders, she didn't look like a maid anymore. She wished James were there to see her, but he would join them soon enough. Dame Martha complimented her, and lead her around the town. Everyone seemed to know the Dame and would congratulate her for her good company. Margaret stared at everything, open-eyed like a child. It was a discovery, it was the proof that she could fulfill her dreams. When they were not walking around town, Dame Martha enjoyed reading under the shadow of the pine trees. The library at the summer house was reduced, and there were no books Margaret wanted to read. That left her time to do something she hadn't done in a lot of time, draw. The scenery had awaken her desire to paint, so she started sketching parts of the town. Margaret could see Dame Martha was proud she was doing something creative. In a way, she saw her as a surrogate daughter.
When James arrived he found them like that. Dame Martha was reading under a tree, completely absorbed by the book. Margaret was with her back to the house, drawing the sea between the trees.
-Mother, I see you have found yourself some new company.- James said out-loud when he saw she hadn't even realized her son had arrived.
-James, dear. You are finally here! Oh, she is not new company, she is a rather known one.
Margaret stood up and approached. She was wearing a white and blue stripped dress, her hair tied up in a thick braid.
-Welcome home, Mr. Abbot.
James had to contain himself from running up to her and taking her between her arms.
-This dress really becomes you, Margaret. Are you enjoying your stay?
-Thank you, Mr. Abbot. Yes, I am, your lady mother is too kind to let me spend time in here.
-Nonsense. I need to take profit of you before you marry off. With your qualities it is going to be soon enough.
Margaret blushed, not knowing what to say.
-Mother, you are making her uncomfortable. I am going to swim in the sea. Have you been to the beach already, Margaret?
-No, Mr. Abbot, I haven't.
-Do you mind if I steal her, mother?
-No, go ahead. I will stay here, reading.
James entered the house to change into his bathing suit while Margaret waited for him. She was examining a painting that was hanging on the hall's wall. James observed her before descending the stairs.
-I have missed you, Margaret. The house felt empty without you.
-I have missed you too, James.
They walked together to the beach, and while James swam she looked at him. It was the first time she saw him without a suit, and she wished she could see him like that more often.
Summer arrived, and with it Dame Martha's pilgrimage to their house by the sea, it was her heirloom. Dam Martha had spent all of her childhood's summers in there, and, when it became hers, she brought her family along. That summer, she and Margaret would go earlier, and James would join later after. He had to receive Richard back into the family's house.
It was the first time Margaret had seen the sea, and she was fascinated by it. To Dame Martha the sea was like an old friend who still keeps secrets for himself. The house wasn't too big, but still magnificent. It had a big balcony over the garden overlooking the sea, where they would have their meals. When Dame Martha and Margaret arrived, everything was already set, and the only thing Margaret had to do was unpack the Dame's luggage. The older woman stayed in the room while her handmaid hung the clothes, and something caught her eye.
-Margaret, dear. I have just seen there are some old dresses of mine in the closet. They are not much, modest summer dresses I used t wear when I was young and I had no social compromises, but I was thinking that they would fit you quite well, and they are more adequate for this heat than your maid's uniform. Why don't you use these while we are here? I will feel more comfortable walking around with you if you don't look so formal.
Margaret couldn't believe what she was hearing, she hated that uniform. It was her chance to ditch it away for a while.
-As you say, Dame Martha.
The Dame took the matter on her hand and selected half a dozen dresses. They were modest, in colors ranging from beige to light blue. Still, they were the most beautiful dresses Margaret had ever had.
-Thank you, Dame Martha.- she said as she took the dresses.
-Now, go change, Margaret. I want to go for a walk.
-Yes, Dame Martha.
Margaret walked to her room, it was bigger than the one she used to occupy at the country house. It had belonged to one of the Dame's sisters. She took out her uniform and picked a light blue dress. It made her look her age. She also decided to take out the bonnet and leave her hair loose. Her auburn curls fell all over her shoulders, she didn't look like a maid anymore. She wished James were there to see her, but he would join them soon enough. Dame Martha complimented her, and lead her around the town. Everyone seemed to know the Dame and would congratulate her for her good company. Margaret stared at everything, open-eyed like a child. It was a discovery, it was the proof that she could fulfill her dreams. When they were not walking around town, Dame Martha enjoyed reading under the shadow of the pine trees. The library at the summer house was reduced, and there were no books Margaret wanted to read. That left her time to do something she hadn't done in a lot of time, draw. The scenery had awaken her desire to paint, so she started sketching parts of the town. Margaret could see Dame Martha was proud she was doing something creative. In a way, she saw her as a surrogate daughter.
When James arrived he found them like that. Dame Martha was reading under a tree, completely absorbed by the book. Margaret was with her back to the house, drawing the sea between the trees.
-Mother, I see you have found yourself some new company.- James said out-loud when he saw she hadn't even realized her son had arrived.
-James, dear. You are finally here! Oh, she is not new company, she is a rather known one.
Margaret stood up and approached. She was wearing a white and blue stripped dress, her hair tied up in a thick braid.
-Welcome home, Mr. Abbot.
James had to contain himself from running up to her and taking her between her arms.
-This dress really becomes you, Margaret. Are you enjoying your stay?
-Thank you, Mr. Abbot. Yes, I am, your lady mother is too kind to let me spend time in here.
-Nonsense. I need to take profit of you before you marry off. With your qualities it is going to be soon enough.
Margaret blushed, not knowing what to say.
-Mother, you are making her uncomfortable. I am going to swim in the sea. Have you been to the beach already, Margaret?
-No, Mr. Abbot, I haven't.
-Do you mind if I steal her, mother?
-No, go ahead. I will stay here, reading.
James entered the house to change into his bathing suit while Margaret waited for him. She was examining a painting that was hanging on the hall's wall. James observed her before descending the stairs.
-I have missed you, Margaret. The house felt empty without you.
-I have missed you too, James.
They walked together to the beach, and while James swam she looked at him. It was the first time she saw him without a suit, and she wished she could see him like that more often.
8/26/2014
A Story A Day. Story 234 of 365: Pearl (III).
James soon found out Margaret was strong-willed, stubborn, and independent. After his invitation, Margaret became a regular at the library. At first she would only go when he was there, she would pick a book and sit on the opposite side of the room, maybe as a sign of respect. She seemed to enjoy the Greek classics, and he soon started discussing philosophy with her. Truth was, he longed for intelligent conversation, and she provided it. With time they moved from philosophy to politics, she was surprisingly well informed about the current state of affairs. She was a fervent defendant for equal rights, understandable after her disfavored uprising. She was what he had been waiting for, someone of his own age who was intellectually challenging.
Soon enough, he found himself longing for their weekly discussion. Sometimes, he caught himself wondering what would be the next topic they would talk about. Yet, James kept those meetings secret, because he knew some people would frown upon them. The same thing happened to Margaret. What was more, during the rest of the week she kept her distance, but when their meeting arrived she would forget all formalisms and call him James, as he had insisted.
One day, as they were talking about the women's rights movement, James braved up and asked her if she ever wanted to marry. Instead of replying, she struck back.
-And you? Do you want to marry?
-I will have to. It's my fate as heir.
-We are not talking about what you ought to do, we are talking about what you want to do. Do you want to marry some high society damsel? Or do you want to marry someone you love?
Love, that was such a complicated word. Of course, he wanted to marry someone he loved, but did he really stand a chance? Margaret was waiting for an answer.
-If I could, I would like to marry the woman I love.- as soon as he had said it, he knew it was true, that was his deepest desire.- But life is too difficult, society would probably never accept it.
-This is exactly the problem we are facing right now. Society is everything, it is what rules our lives. We are marked from the moment we are born. You should be able to marry the person you love, whoever she is, the only thing that matters is that you feel she is worthy.
-Of course you are.- James said abruptly, he paled as soon as he realized what he had said.
-You didn't mean that.- Margaret replied as she blushed. She stood frozen at her place by the window.
-I do.- and for the first time he was aware he loved her.- Margaret, you are the only person I can talk with, you are smart and sharp. You are not like the rest of the girls. Every day by your side is an stimulus. With you I can really be myself, instead of Mr. Abbot, with you I am James. And that's why I love you.
-James,... you know this can't be.
-You just said I should be able to love whoever I wanted.
-Yes, but...
-No buts, we will find our way around, if you love me too.
-James,...
-Do you?
Margaret sighed, she looked into his dark blue eyes that were staring at her from barely three feet away.
-Yes, I do.
James fell on one knee, took her hand and kissed it. It had been the first time she had told her he loved her, but it wouldn't be the last one.
Soon enough, he found himself longing for their weekly discussion. Sometimes, he caught himself wondering what would be the next topic they would talk about. Yet, James kept those meetings secret, because he knew some people would frown upon them. The same thing happened to Margaret. What was more, during the rest of the week she kept her distance, but when their meeting arrived she would forget all formalisms and call him James, as he had insisted.
One day, as they were talking about the women's rights movement, James braved up and asked her if she ever wanted to marry. Instead of replying, she struck back.
-And you? Do you want to marry?
-I will have to. It's my fate as heir.
-We are not talking about what you ought to do, we are talking about what you want to do. Do you want to marry some high society damsel? Or do you want to marry someone you love?
Love, that was such a complicated word. Of course, he wanted to marry someone he loved, but did he really stand a chance? Margaret was waiting for an answer.
-If I could, I would like to marry the woman I love.- as soon as he had said it, he knew it was true, that was his deepest desire.- But life is too difficult, society would probably never accept it.
-This is exactly the problem we are facing right now. Society is everything, it is what rules our lives. We are marked from the moment we are born. You should be able to marry the person you love, whoever she is, the only thing that matters is that you feel she is worthy.
-Of course you are.- James said abruptly, he paled as soon as he realized what he had said.
-You didn't mean that.- Margaret replied as she blushed. She stood frozen at her place by the window.
-I do.- and for the first time he was aware he loved her.- Margaret, you are the only person I can talk with, you are smart and sharp. You are not like the rest of the girls. Every day by your side is an stimulus. With you I can really be myself, instead of Mr. Abbot, with you I am James. And that's why I love you.
-James,... you know this can't be.
-You just said I should be able to love whoever I wanted.
-Yes, but...
-No buts, we will find our way around, if you love me too.
-James,...
-Do you?
Margaret sighed, she looked into his dark blue eyes that were staring at her from barely three feet away.
-Yes, I do.
James fell on one knee, took her hand and kissed it. It had been the first time she had told her he loved her, but it wouldn't be the last one.
8/25/2014
A Story A Day. Story 233 of 365: Pearl (II).
The first time he had seen Margaret writing, had been almost a month after the incident that had allowed them to met. Just after Richard had left for the Army. Dame Martha was preparing a ball to welcome spring, her favorite season. Margaret was helping her with the preparations. Dame Martha had summoned her son to discuss some aspects regarding the guests, while Margaret was inking the invitations on a desk by the window. Dame Martha and her son went through all the items, and when they were done James asked the lady about her new handmaid.
-Margaret is truly a delight, my dear. She has a voice like an exotic bird, she recites and reads without hesitation, and she has the most beautiful of the calligraphies. She is quite a find, dear.
-I am glad she pleases you, mother. I am curious about the calligraphy, I never knew she could read and write.
-Let me show you. Margaret?
-Yes, Dame Martha?- the girl replied, stopping her work.
-Would you mind bringing one of the invitations?
Margaret stood up, smoothened her dress, and walked respectfully towards them. She handed the lady a piece of paper, who then passed it onto her son. James admired it, her writing was fluid and feminine, ad one would expect from a lady of high uprising.
-This is very pretty.- he conceded.
-Thank you, Margaret, you can go back to your work.
Margaret did a curtsey and set back on the table. James stared at her while she worked, she was focused, but she didn't seem to be struggling. He wondered about her life story. Some days later, he had her go to his library. He was reading Shakespeare sonnets when she arrived.
-You wanted to see me, Mr. Abbot?
-Yes, Margaret, please, take a seat. Would you like some tea?
-No, thank you, Mr. Abbot.
He poured a cup for himself, while he observed the girl fidgeting.
-Margaret, my mother told me you read and write perfectly. How did you learn?
-My grandmother taught me, Mr. Abbot. She was a nun who left the order because she fell in love, and she always said that an education is the greatest gift you can make to children. She was a very wise woman.- there was sadness in her voice.
-You must have loved her a lot.
-I did, Mr. Abbot, she was my only family. She provided for me, and taught me everything I know. When she died I came here and started serving so I didn't have to live from the streets.
James was struck by her story, he knew not everyone was as privileged as he was, but he would have never expected that.
-However, with your abilities, you could have found a much better position.
-Can I be honest, Mr. Abbot?- when he nodded, she continued.- No one would believe that a country girl could read and write. If I had claimed so, I would have been called a liar. I knew it was safer to hire myself as a maid, no one would question my abilities on that.
James almost asked her why didn't she find a husband and married, but as soon as he though of the question, he knew it was inappropriate. Instead he made her an offer.
-Margaret, how would you like to be able to come into this library and read any book you wanted whenever you wanted?
-I would love to! You are so kind, Mr. Abbot.- she replied excited.
-It is nothing, I am the only one using it, and I would like to have some company to discuss books with.
That moment was, probably, when James started falling in love with her.
8/24/2014
A Story A Day. Story 232 of 365: Pearl (I).
"If you love me, meet me at the train station" Margaret's handwriting had always been so pretty. When James first found out she could write, he was surprised, she was only a servant, after all. He had never paid much attention to her, except to admire how beautiful she was. His younger brother, Richard, noticed too, and tried to take profit of her. That was the first time James got to talk to her privately.
Sir James Abbot, James' father, had died seven years earlier, when James was barely fifteen. Since that moment he had been the man of the household. James never liked that role, he knew his mother would do a better job than he could ever do. But Dame Martha insisted on his taking the reigns, even if he ended up asking her for advice most of the time. So, for seven years it had been his work to try to control his unruly and rebellious brother. Richard always took wealthiness for granted, and he assumed he was superior to everyone else. James wasn't surprised when he heard his brother had tried to rape one of the maids, he was saddened and disappointed, but not surprised. He made the servant go to his office before talking to his brother, he wanted to know all the details.
Margaret went to him teary eyed but proud. Her green eyes rimmed with red, her long lashes wet. She wore her long auburn hair on a tight bun under her bonnet, but some stray curls escaped it. He invited her to seat.
-Thank you, Mr. Abbot.
-Would you mind reminding me of your name?
-Margaret, Mr. Abbot.
-How are you Margaret? Are you feeling fine?
-I have been better, Mr. Abbot, but I will recover.
-Would you mind explaining me what happened?
-I was tiding up Dame Martha's study when Mr. Richard entered the room, closing the door behind him. At that moment I was cleaning the window panes, so I didn't realize it was him until he spoke. He asked me if I was happy working as a maid, when I told him I was he told me I was very beautiful and that I didn't need to waste my youth cleaning houses. That I could live as a lady, if I accepted some of his terms. He also asked me if I was a virgin, and if I thought he was attractive. I tried to divert the topic, because I didn't like where it was going. But he insisted, in the end I told him that for the things he was proposing he needed to find some nice girl of his own class and marry her. This was when he became violent, he told me he didn't need to marry anyone to do what he wanted to do, and that I was no one to tell him what he needed to do. That he was my superior and I should do whatever he told me. He next leaped on me, and the next moment he was lying on the floor and I ran to hide in the kitchens.
James looked at the girl, she must have been very strong to push his brother aside.
-Did he hurt you?
-No, Mr. Abbot.
-And do you want to keep working in this house?
The question took her by surprise, she had expected him to dismiss her for hurting his brother. She looked into his kind eyes, and realized he was nothing like his brother.
-Yes, Mr. Abbot.
-Perfect, we just need to solve the problem of my brother, but I will take care of it. He will never molest you or any of the maids again.- James paused and a thought crossed his mind.- Margaret, Dame Martha's handmaid is leaving to get married, would you like to take her place? I will need to talk to my lady mother first, but I am positive she will agree.
Margaret's face lit up and her expression softened, showing how young she really was.
That was the first time he had actually talked to her, where he saw a glimpse of her personality, but it wasn't the first time he saw her write, he thought as he reread the note for the thousand time.
Sir James Abbot, James' father, had died seven years earlier, when James was barely fifteen. Since that moment he had been the man of the household. James never liked that role, he knew his mother would do a better job than he could ever do. But Dame Martha insisted on his taking the reigns, even if he ended up asking her for advice most of the time. So, for seven years it had been his work to try to control his unruly and rebellious brother. Richard always took wealthiness for granted, and he assumed he was superior to everyone else. James wasn't surprised when he heard his brother had tried to rape one of the maids, he was saddened and disappointed, but not surprised. He made the servant go to his office before talking to his brother, he wanted to know all the details.
Margaret went to him teary eyed but proud. Her green eyes rimmed with red, her long lashes wet. She wore her long auburn hair on a tight bun under her bonnet, but some stray curls escaped it. He invited her to seat.
-Thank you, Mr. Abbot.
-Would you mind reminding me of your name?
-Margaret, Mr. Abbot.
-How are you Margaret? Are you feeling fine?
-I have been better, Mr. Abbot, but I will recover.
-Would you mind explaining me what happened?
-I was tiding up Dame Martha's study when Mr. Richard entered the room, closing the door behind him. At that moment I was cleaning the window panes, so I didn't realize it was him until he spoke. He asked me if I was happy working as a maid, when I told him I was he told me I was very beautiful and that I didn't need to waste my youth cleaning houses. That I could live as a lady, if I accepted some of his terms. He also asked me if I was a virgin, and if I thought he was attractive. I tried to divert the topic, because I didn't like where it was going. But he insisted, in the end I told him that for the things he was proposing he needed to find some nice girl of his own class and marry her. This was when he became violent, he told me he didn't need to marry anyone to do what he wanted to do, and that I was no one to tell him what he needed to do. That he was my superior and I should do whatever he told me. He next leaped on me, and the next moment he was lying on the floor and I ran to hide in the kitchens.
James looked at the girl, she must have been very strong to push his brother aside.
-Did he hurt you?
-No, Mr. Abbot.
-And do you want to keep working in this house?
The question took her by surprise, she had expected him to dismiss her for hurting his brother. She looked into his kind eyes, and realized he was nothing like his brother.
-Yes, Mr. Abbot.
-Perfect, we just need to solve the problem of my brother, but I will take care of it. He will never molest you or any of the maids again.- James paused and a thought crossed his mind.- Margaret, Dame Martha's handmaid is leaving to get married, would you like to take her place? I will need to talk to my lady mother first, but I am positive she will agree.
Margaret's face lit up and her expression softened, showing how young she really was.
That was the first time he had actually talked to her, where he saw a glimpse of her personality, but it wasn't the first time he saw her write, he thought as he reread the note for the thousand time.
8/23/2014
A Story A Day. Story 231 of 365: Effort.
Irene, somehow, had the idea she wanted a boyfriend. She knew she didn't need one, she didn't need anyone else to be happy, but she wanted one. She had the idea that it would be nice to have someone to share some experiences with. Travel the world with him, do exciting things together.
However, having to find him seemed exhausting to her, she was a busy woman, she didn't have time to go out to bars and talk to guys. So she did what she thought was closer to a casting: setting up a profile on a dating site. She looked and choose, and after a pair of fiascoes, she found a guy who seemed good enough. They started talking, and went on a couple of dates. Yet, Irene soon found out that having a boyfriend also meant having to care for that person twenty-four hours a day, listen to him, and it was exhausting to her.
In the end, Irene decided she didn't want a boyfriend after all, that she could well do all that stuff on her own.
However, having to find him seemed exhausting to her, she was a busy woman, she didn't have time to go out to bars and talk to guys. So she did what she thought was closer to a casting: setting up a profile on a dating site. She looked and choose, and after a pair of fiascoes, she found a guy who seemed good enough. They started talking, and went on a couple of dates. Yet, Irene soon found out that having a boyfriend also meant having to care for that person twenty-four hours a day, listen to him, and it was exhausting to her.
In the end, Irene decided she didn't want a boyfriend after all, that she could well do all that stuff on her own.
8/22/2014
A Story A Day. Story 230 of 365: Isolation.
Silence was all around, only the occasional flip of a page would break it. And the smell of old books was the best perfume in the world. The library was Ian's sanctuary, it provided him everything he had ever needed: books, calmness, and social isolation. He was in charge of finding the documents people requested at the front desk, as well as of sorting out new acquisitions.
He had never been a people's person, so he was glad he didn't have to interact with people on a daily basis. However, that soon changed. The library where he worked usually had interns during the summer period, they would be placed at the front desk, as it was the busiest part. Unfortunately for Ian, that year there were too many interns, and one of them ended up working with him.
Clarissa, Ian's intern, was a nervous blonde girl with little mousey eyes that were hidden behind thick glasses. Ian took patience with her. In fact, if anyone had seen, no one would have thought that Ian hated working around other people. He showed her around and made her work with him when he was doing the most simple tasks. He told her to interrupt him if she had any doubt, and assumed she didn't. It was an emotionally stressful situation for him, having to worry about his work and Clarissa. He sometimes wondered whether she was learning anything or, at least, enjoying the experience. Yet, she never complained.
During a particularly stressful day, he sent her to pick some of the most requested documents in the library, they had gone there at least twenty times. After an extremely long period of time the girl arrived empty handed. She couldn't find them, she said. Ian sighed and walked to the room, she had taken half of the documents of the chamber out of the shelves and onto the table. Ian felt his blood boiling. Without a word he put everything back in place and took out the right documents. He bit his tongue, knowing he didn't have anything nice to say. He worked silently for the rest of the day, despite Clarissa's efforts to take a word out of him. When she finally left, he crawled under his desk and cried.
He had never been a people's person, so he was glad he didn't have to interact with people on a daily basis. However, that soon changed. The library where he worked usually had interns during the summer period, they would be placed at the front desk, as it was the busiest part. Unfortunately for Ian, that year there were too many interns, and one of them ended up working with him.
Clarissa, Ian's intern, was a nervous blonde girl with little mousey eyes that were hidden behind thick glasses. Ian took patience with her. In fact, if anyone had seen, no one would have thought that Ian hated working around other people. He showed her around and made her work with him when he was doing the most simple tasks. He told her to interrupt him if she had any doubt, and assumed she didn't. It was an emotionally stressful situation for him, having to worry about his work and Clarissa. He sometimes wondered whether she was learning anything or, at least, enjoying the experience. Yet, she never complained.
During a particularly stressful day, he sent her to pick some of the most requested documents in the library, they had gone there at least twenty times. After an extremely long period of time the girl arrived empty handed. She couldn't find them, she said. Ian sighed and walked to the room, she had taken half of the documents of the chamber out of the shelves and onto the table. Ian felt his blood boiling. Without a word he put everything back in place and took out the right documents. He bit his tongue, knowing he didn't have anything nice to say. He worked silently for the rest of the day, despite Clarissa's efforts to take a word out of him. When she finally left, he crawled under his desk and cried.
8/21/2014
A Story A Day. Story 229 of 365: Gloria (V).
Gloria lit the light of her father's study. She hadn't been in it since before he died, and it was exactly as she remembered. His books were still scattered open on the large table, and his notes where on his desk. She opened the drawer, afraid there was nothing. However, there it was, a white envelope, turned yellowish, with her name on it. She ran her finger through her father's calligraphy, he had such a beautiful handwriting. She opened the envelope with expectation. The paper was the best one he had owned, and the ink was dark blue, his favorite. She started reading.
Dear Gloria,
when you read this I will be already dead. It is a cliché sentence to start a letter, but it will be true. I hope you miss me, because it will mean I have done things right. After all, you only miss the things you love. And I have loved you a lot. You are my only child, my baby, and I am proud of you. Nothing could make me ashamed of you.
However, there is something that makes me feel ashamed of myself, and it is keeping a secret for this long. Your mother was always against telling you, she said it would hurt you too much. So I never told you. I don't want to die and take that secret with me. I need you to know.
You have given me three wonderful grandsons. I can't find the words to describe how much they amaze me. But every time I see them, I also remember my granddaughter, that little baby girl you delivered when you were not even seventeen. I know that, sometimes, you have wondered whether she was actually dead. Maybe hoping she was alive and living a happy life somewhere. But no, your daughter only lived long enough for you to hear her cry, long enough for the doctor to tell her she was a girl.
What your mother never wanted to tell you was that she was terribly malformed. I am not going to describe it, because the sole vision of such an innocent creature so severely disfigured, has haunted my dreams for years. I will tell you, however, that there was nothing the doctors could do. She died peacefully. Because your mother didn't want you to see her, we took her home and buried her under the oak in the garden. She is still there. Sometimes, I go to the tree and caress its trunk, as it were her. I also sit down by it and read her stories. All the stories I would have read her, had she lived. I want you to know that, even though she only lived for a short time, I didn't forget her. I also want you to know that I named her Angela, just like you wanted.
Love,
Dad
When Gloria had finished reading the letter, she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. She looked at the garden and saw the oak, and it felt as if it were her daughter. She was tempted to go outside and kneel in front of it, but she remembered her mother and decided to forgive her and stay with her during her last moments. Yet, it was too late, as she found her resting peacefully, her face an image of calmness.
Dear Gloria,
when you read this I will be already dead. It is a cliché sentence to start a letter, but it will be true. I hope you miss me, because it will mean I have done things right. After all, you only miss the things you love. And I have loved you a lot. You are my only child, my baby, and I am proud of you. Nothing could make me ashamed of you.
However, there is something that makes me feel ashamed of myself, and it is keeping a secret for this long. Your mother was always against telling you, she said it would hurt you too much. So I never told you. I don't want to die and take that secret with me. I need you to know.
You have given me three wonderful grandsons. I can't find the words to describe how much they amaze me. But every time I see them, I also remember my granddaughter, that little baby girl you delivered when you were not even seventeen. I know that, sometimes, you have wondered whether she was actually dead. Maybe hoping she was alive and living a happy life somewhere. But no, your daughter only lived long enough for you to hear her cry, long enough for the doctor to tell her she was a girl.
What your mother never wanted to tell you was that she was terribly malformed. I am not going to describe it, because the sole vision of such an innocent creature so severely disfigured, has haunted my dreams for years. I will tell you, however, that there was nothing the doctors could do. She died peacefully. Because your mother didn't want you to see her, we took her home and buried her under the oak in the garden. She is still there. Sometimes, I go to the tree and caress its trunk, as it were her. I also sit down by it and read her stories. All the stories I would have read her, had she lived. I want you to know that, even though she only lived for a short time, I didn't forget her. I also want you to know that I named her Angela, just like you wanted.
Love,
Dad
When Gloria had finished reading the letter, she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. She looked at the garden and saw the oak, and it felt as if it were her daughter. She was tempted to go outside and kneel in front of it, but she remembered her mother and decided to forgive her and stay with her during her last moments. Yet, it was too late, as she found her resting peacefully, her face an image of calmness.
8/20/2014
A Story A Day. Story 228 of 365: Gloria (IV).
It was late at night, when Gloria finally arrived to her childhood home. As every time she went back, the changes in the town surprised her. It was growing fast, and things were different. Everything but her parents' house. Only a faint light coming out of her mother's bedroom could be seen. Her mother had moved into Gloria's bedroom after her father's death, she said she didn't need such a big room, but the truth was that everything reminded her of him.
Gloria payed the taxi driver and took the keys out of her purse. After all those years, she still carried a copy of the keys of her parents house on her. As she unlocked the front door, her mother called feebly for her.
-Gloria, is that you?
-Yes, mom, I'm coming straight away. Don't move.
Gloria climbed the dark stairs and headed to her old bedroom. Before entering the room, she looked at her mother. She had always been thin, but she was skeletal, her bones showing through her skin. Her hair was brittle, her eyes had lost their spark. Gloria took a deep breath and entered.
-Mom, it's me, Gloria.- she said as she accommodated on a chair next to the bed.
-Gloria,...- she was breathing with difficulty.
-Yes, mom. It's okay.
-I'm dying.
Gloria didn't say anything, she just took her hand and squeezed it. Her mother tried to speak again.
-Shhh! Mom, you're only making yourself more tired. We will speak tomorrow.
-There will be no tomorrow.- she managed to mutter.
Gloria wanted to deny it, but, deep inside, she knew it was true. Her mother spoke again.
-There's a letter in your father's study, downstairs. It's on his desk, on the first drawer. He wrote it to you just before he died. Go and read it, I'll be waiting.
Gloria payed the taxi driver and took the keys out of her purse. After all those years, she still carried a copy of the keys of her parents house on her. As she unlocked the front door, her mother called feebly for her.
-Gloria, is that you?
-Yes, mom, I'm coming straight away. Don't move.
Gloria climbed the dark stairs and headed to her old bedroom. Before entering the room, she looked at her mother. She had always been thin, but she was skeletal, her bones showing through her skin. Her hair was brittle, her eyes had lost their spark. Gloria took a deep breath and entered.
-Mom, it's me, Gloria.- she said as she accommodated on a chair next to the bed.
-Gloria,...- she was breathing with difficulty.
-Yes, mom. It's okay.
-I'm dying.
Gloria didn't say anything, she just took her hand and squeezed it. Her mother tried to speak again.
-Shhh! Mom, you're only making yourself more tired. We will speak tomorrow.
-There will be no tomorrow.- she managed to mutter.
Gloria wanted to deny it, but, deep inside, she knew it was true. Her mother spoke again.
-There's a letter in your father's study, downstairs. It's on his desk, on the first drawer. He wrote it to you just before he died. Go and read it, I'll be waiting.
8/19/2014
A Story A Day. Story 227 of 365: Gloria (III).
For quite a long time, Gloria would run away crying every time she saw a baby on the street. The months after her daughter's birth, she stayed at home, hiding from everyone, but mainly hiding from Gary. She couldn't face having to tell people her daughter was dead, she didn't even know for sure if she was, and she couldn't stand the looks of pity in everyone's eyes, or people talking behind her back. She only reemerged when it was time to go back to school. It would be her last year, after all, and she had fully decided to go to the university.
Her experience had completely changed her, and she focused on her objective. By the end of the school year she was one of the best students, opening her the doors towards higher education. From that point on her life was settled, she became a successful businesswoman, she married a good man, and had his children. But, from time to time she still imagined how her life would be had her daughter lived. And, sometimes, she still wondered whether she had really died. Even having other children of her own could never fill the gap her unnamed daughter had left. It was a permanent scar that had made who she was.
One day, some years later, when Gloria was already in her late forties, and after her father had died, her mother called her. She told her she was dying, but that there was something important Gloria needed to know. She booked the first plane ticket she could find and flew hurriedly to her mother's side.
Her experience had completely changed her, and she focused on her objective. By the end of the school year she was one of the best students, opening her the doors towards higher education. From that point on her life was settled, she became a successful businesswoman, she married a good man, and had his children. But, from time to time she still imagined how her life would be had her daughter lived. And, sometimes, she still wondered whether she had really died. Even having other children of her own could never fill the gap her unnamed daughter had left. It was a permanent scar that had made who she was.
One day, some years later, when Gloria was already in her late forties, and after her father had died, her mother called her. She told her she was dying, but that there was something important Gloria needed to know. She booked the first plane ticket she could find and flew hurriedly to her mother's side.
8/18/2014
A Story A Day. Story 226 of 365: Gloria (II).
When Gloria realized she was pregnant, fall had already settled in town. Her period was usually irregular, so it took her two months to realize she was expecting. At first, she panicked, how was she supposed to take care of a baby when she was still a child herself? Also, how would she tell her parents?
Gloria kept the secret for almost a month. She tried to get in contact with Gary in the meantime, but he never returned her calls or replied to her letters. When she finally admitted he would never reply, she told her parents. Contrarily to what she had expected, Gloria's parents were supportive, they were disappointed for sure, and they told her off. But, in the end, Gloria was their only child, and they loved her. Yet, they also wanted her to take responsibility for her acts, so, even though she stayed in school, she had to start working to provide income, more so if she wanted to keep the baby.
The pregnancy catapulted her into adulthood. She was no longer full of infinite energy, she felt tired and moody most of the time. Most of her friends stopped talking to her altogether, as if being pregnant was like having the plague. Gloria was let down, but she also realized who her real friends were. She braved up through the school year, attending her lessons until the very day of her delivery. That experience made her realize she needed to take her studies more seriously, and, maybe, eventually, when her baby was born, attend the local college.
Gloria's waters broke just after she had arrived home from school, and she called her mother alarmed. She was scared, even with the delivery preparation classes, she was not ready. Her mother drove her to the hospital, and the birth unravelled at a much slower pace than she would have expected. After twelve hours at the hospital, she was finally able to hear her baby crying. Before having her, as she turned out to be a girl, taken away. She was exhausted and they put her in her room to rest, after instructing her mother to beware of signs of bleeding.
When Gloria woke up, she immediately asked to see her baby girl.
-She's dead.- her mother told her.
-But I heard her cry.
-She died, Gloria.
-I want to see her! I want to bury her!- Gloria shouted with tears in her eyes.
-You can't. Don't do this to yourself, is not going to do you any good. You need to move on.
-You tell me my daughter, the one I carried inside me for nine months, is dead, and you dare to tell me to move on!- Gloria was completely out of control.- Get out!
Gloria kept the secret for almost a month. She tried to get in contact with Gary in the meantime, but he never returned her calls or replied to her letters. When she finally admitted he would never reply, she told her parents. Contrarily to what she had expected, Gloria's parents were supportive, they were disappointed for sure, and they told her off. But, in the end, Gloria was their only child, and they loved her. Yet, they also wanted her to take responsibility for her acts, so, even though she stayed in school, she had to start working to provide income, more so if she wanted to keep the baby.
The pregnancy catapulted her into adulthood. She was no longer full of infinite energy, she felt tired and moody most of the time. Most of her friends stopped talking to her altogether, as if being pregnant was like having the plague. Gloria was let down, but she also realized who her real friends were. She braved up through the school year, attending her lessons until the very day of her delivery. That experience made her realize she needed to take her studies more seriously, and, maybe, eventually, when her baby was born, attend the local college.
Gloria's waters broke just after she had arrived home from school, and she called her mother alarmed. She was scared, even with the delivery preparation classes, she was not ready. Her mother drove her to the hospital, and the birth unravelled at a much slower pace than she would have expected. After twelve hours at the hospital, she was finally able to hear her baby crying. Before having her, as she turned out to be a girl, taken away. She was exhausted and they put her in her room to rest, after instructing her mother to beware of signs of bleeding.
When Gloria woke up, she immediately asked to see her baby girl.
-She's dead.- her mother told her.
-But I heard her cry.
-She died, Gloria.
-I want to see her! I want to bury her!- Gloria shouted with tears in her eyes.
-You can't. Don't do this to yourself, is not going to do you any good. You need to move on.
-You tell me my daughter, the one I carried inside me for nine months, is dead, and you dare to tell me to move on!- Gloria was completely out of control.- Get out!
8/17/2014
A Story A Day. Story 225 of 365: Gloria (I).
Gloria had just turned sixteen that summer, although she had been looking the age for some years. She was tall and skinny. A brunette with big dark eyes. She wasn't the prettiest in town, but she was the one who had blossomed before, and the first of her class that had started dating older guys. She had always kept some limits, however, in the end she was still a conservative town girl who wanted to save herself for the one.
Gary appeared back in town after a year away in college. He was kind of a celebrity around there, because he had obtained a sports scholarship. He was short, but well built, his muscles bulking under his t-shirt. He had a crooked nose and piercing blue eyes. Handsome wasn't a word that could describe him, but all the girls went crazy for him anyway. In such a small town, it was inevitable for Gary and Gloria to meet. And they did during a random summer pool party. She was queueing to get some meat at the barbecue and he walked just behind her. When she asked for a particularly large and juicy steak, he couldn't help but comment.
-Wow! You don't usually see a girl eat such a steak!
She turned around, with the plate on her hands.
-In here, we do!- Gloria replied winking.
From that moment they started talking, and, in a way, dating. For her he was the innovation, a cultured and travelled man, something exotic. For him, she was one of many, a way to spend the time before going to the university.
They spent most of the summer together, going to parties. He gave Gloria her first beer. With time, she decided that maybe there was something else, it was not love, at least not yet, but there was definitely something. When the time approached for him to leave, he insisted he wanted a special memory of her. Gloria was doubtful, it was an important step for her, even if he insisted it was nothing. Gary demanded it so much that, in the end, Gloria conceded him that wish.
Despite all the expectation, or mainly because of it, it was a disappointing experience for Gloria. She had expected to feel something, whether it was pain or pleasure, but she felt nothing and it was over almost as soon as it started. Gary was leaving the following day in the morning, so that was their goodbye.
Gary appeared back in town after a year away in college. He was kind of a celebrity around there, because he had obtained a sports scholarship. He was short, but well built, his muscles bulking under his t-shirt. He had a crooked nose and piercing blue eyes. Handsome wasn't a word that could describe him, but all the girls went crazy for him anyway. In such a small town, it was inevitable for Gary and Gloria to meet. And they did during a random summer pool party. She was queueing to get some meat at the barbecue and he walked just behind her. When she asked for a particularly large and juicy steak, he couldn't help but comment.
-Wow! You don't usually see a girl eat such a steak!
She turned around, with the plate on her hands.
-In here, we do!- Gloria replied winking.
From that moment they started talking, and, in a way, dating. For her he was the innovation, a cultured and travelled man, something exotic. For him, she was one of many, a way to spend the time before going to the university.
They spent most of the summer together, going to parties. He gave Gloria her first beer. With time, she decided that maybe there was something else, it was not love, at least not yet, but there was definitely something. When the time approached for him to leave, he insisted he wanted a special memory of her. Gloria was doubtful, it was an important step for her, even if he insisted it was nothing. Gary demanded it so much that, in the end, Gloria conceded him that wish.
Despite all the expectation, or mainly because of it, it was a disappointing experience for Gloria. She had expected to feel something, whether it was pain or pleasure, but she felt nothing and it was over almost as soon as it started. Gary was leaving the following day in the morning, so that was their goodbye.
8/16/2014
A Story A Day. Story 224 of 365: Equinophobia.
Probably, the worse place to be afraid of horses is in a farm. That was exactly were Lucy lived, and her life was a constant torture. There was no particular reason she was afraid of horses, they had never hurt her, nor had she ever fallen from one. She had been afraid of them since ever, possibly since the first day she had laid her eyes on one.
Everyone thought they were magnificent animals, but she was not able to admire their beauty. A mere neigh would send chills down her spine. When her younger sister entered at jumping competitions, she was the only one who stayed at home, as the thought of seeing so many horses together in one place made her feel sick. The life in the farm was wrecking her nerves, so when she was old enough she moved to the city. It was the place where she would be safer from those four legged monsters. And she was, for a while.
One day, as she walked through the park, she heard a familiar clacking noise. She turned around alarmed, and met face to face with one of the animals. She was so scared that she fell on a flower bed nearby, while everyone watched trying to hold the laughter.
Everyone thought they were magnificent animals, but she was not able to admire their beauty. A mere neigh would send chills down her spine. When her younger sister entered at jumping competitions, she was the only one who stayed at home, as the thought of seeing so many horses together in one place made her feel sick. The life in the farm was wrecking her nerves, so when she was old enough she moved to the city. It was the place where she would be safer from those four legged monsters. And she was, for a while.
One day, as she walked through the park, she heard a familiar clacking noise. She turned around alarmed, and met face to face with one of the animals. She was so scared that she fell on a flower bed nearby, while everyone watched trying to hold the laughter.
8/15/2014
A Story A Day. Story 223 of 365: Gerascophobia.
-Miss Vanhanen, I'm sorry, but I think you can't go under the knife anymore.
-What do you mean, I can't?- she replied with a high-pitched tone.
-It's too dangerous,... At your age lots of things can go awry,...
-My age! I'm still young!
-Miss Vanhanen, we both know that you are close to seventy.
-Don't tell me my damn age! Anyway, the point is that I don't look seventy, and I want to do whatever there is in my hand to stay this way.
-Miss Vanhanen- the doctor replied- you really need to understand that this ins not a game. I can't operate you, it's not ethical, and the risk is too high.
-I don't care! I'd rather die than look old!
-What do you mean, I can't?- she replied with a high-pitched tone.
-It's too dangerous,... At your age lots of things can go awry,...
-My age! I'm still young!
-Miss Vanhanen, we both know that you are close to seventy.
-Don't tell me my damn age! Anyway, the point is that I don't look seventy, and I want to do whatever there is in my hand to stay this way.
-Miss Vanhanen- the doctor replied- you really need to understand that this ins not a game. I can't operate you, it's not ethical, and the risk is too high.
-I don't care! I'd rather die than look old!
8/14/2014
A Story A Day. Story 222 of 365: Acrophobia.
Jane had had an irrational fear of heights for as long as she could remember. It had always been bad. But before she met Max, she was not even able to climb a ladder. He had helped her overcome her fear, step by step, and that trip was the final one.
They had gone away from the city for the weekend. Their destination were some of the most spectacular cliffs in the country, if Jane was able to stand close to them without having an anxiety attack, all would be good. The closest town was an an hour trek away from the cliffs, so they set off after breakfast. The climb uphill was peaceful, but Jane was nervous, how would she react?
As soon as they reached their destination, her uneasiness grew. Max sat next to her and told her everything would be okay. When she was calm, he took her by the hand and, little by little, approached the edge.
-One more step- he would tell her.
Jane resisted the urge to look down, trusting him.
-Another one.
She could hear the waves crashing against the rocks, so she looked to see how close they were. Only two steps were left to fall from the precipice. She panicked.
-Jane, it's okay.
-No, it's not, you want to kill me!
She shoved him aside, blindly. Max lost his step and fell backwards into the sea.
They had gone away from the city for the weekend. Their destination were some of the most spectacular cliffs in the country, if Jane was able to stand close to them without having an anxiety attack, all would be good. The closest town was an an hour trek away from the cliffs, so they set off after breakfast. The climb uphill was peaceful, but Jane was nervous, how would she react?
As soon as they reached their destination, her uneasiness grew. Max sat next to her and told her everything would be okay. When she was calm, he took her by the hand and, little by little, approached the edge.
-One more step- he would tell her.
Jane resisted the urge to look down, trusting him.
-Another one.
She could hear the waves crashing against the rocks, so she looked to see how close they were. Only two steps were left to fall from the precipice. She panicked.
-Jane, it's okay.
-No, it's not, you want to kill me!
She shoved him aside, blindly. Max lost his step and fell backwards into the sea.
8/13/2014
A Story A Day. Story 221 of 365: Cenophobia.
I considered myself to be fearless for quite a long period of my life. I dated to do anything and go anywhere.
It wasn't until I moved out of my parents' house that I realized something was amiss. I was flat-hunting and I needed somewhere where I could start from scratch. A blank canvas, to say so. I still remember the feeling of despair I had visiting the first empty flat I had ever seen. As soon as I crossed the door, the only thing I could think of was desolation. It was as if life had become a void, and nothing could fill it again. I sat on the floor, curled up in a ball and closed my eyes. When the realtor asked me if I was okay, I could only mutter "I can't do it". I ended up having my parents pick a flat for me, and fill it up with furniture and paintings I had chosen. I didn't enter until everything was set.
As you can see, it has gone to worst. I can't even stand the smallest empty space, so my house is cluttered. The fear is ruining my life.
It wasn't until I moved out of my parents' house that I realized something was amiss. I was flat-hunting and I needed somewhere where I could start from scratch. A blank canvas, to say so. I still remember the feeling of despair I had visiting the first empty flat I had ever seen. As soon as I crossed the door, the only thing I could think of was desolation. It was as if life had become a void, and nothing could fill it again. I sat on the floor, curled up in a ball and closed my eyes. When the realtor asked me if I was okay, I could only mutter "I can't do it". I ended up having my parents pick a flat for me, and fill it up with furniture and paintings I had chosen. I didn't enter until everything was set.
As you can see, it has gone to worst. I can't even stand the smallest empty space, so my house is cluttered. The fear is ruining my life.
8/12/2014
A Story A Day. Story 220 of 365: Coulrophobia.
In general, kids love the circus. There are acrobats, magicians, and, in some, animals. But, most of all clowns. Most kids seem to enjoy clowns. Joy had never liked them, they made her cringe. As a kid, she never cheered when they appeared, she was probably the only one hopping for the show to finish. Her parents, oblivious of her distaste, insisted on hiring one for every one of her birthdays.
Joy remembered particularly well her seventh birthday. In fact, she still went to the therapist because of it, more than twenty years later. Her parents, as usual, had found a clown to entertain the kids, and Joy, also as usual, was doing her best to ignore him. She was feeling miserable at her own birthday party. For some reason, maybe to cheer her up, the clown decided to carry the cake himself. That proved to be an unfortunate decision.
As he was walking towards Joy, the flames of the candles grew taller and taller, catching, eventually, in his wig. Soon, his head was a ball of fire, and he ran, uncontrollably around. Fate wanted that he ran straight towards Joy. To this day, every time Joy sees a clown, she has to resist the urge of running away screaming.
Joy remembered particularly well her seventh birthday. In fact, she still went to the therapist because of it, more than twenty years later. Her parents, as usual, had found a clown to entertain the kids, and Joy, also as usual, was doing her best to ignore him. She was feeling miserable at her own birthday party. For some reason, maybe to cheer her up, the clown decided to carry the cake himself. That proved to be an unfortunate decision.
As he was walking towards Joy, the flames of the candles grew taller and taller, catching, eventually, in his wig. Soon, his head was a ball of fire, and he ran, uncontrollably around. Fate wanted that he ran straight towards Joy. To this day, every time Joy sees a clown, she has to resist the urge of running away screaming.
8/11/2014
A Story A Day. Story 219 of 365: Vacant.
Suddenly, the hotel was empty and the town was silent. As fast as the tourists had filled Saint Daniel with life, they had drained the village from it. Restaurants and hotels closed their doors, no one was interested to go in winter. Summer workers returned to their places of origin. Mia was determined to stay, she didn't mind loneliness, she liked it, and she wanted to see the other face of the town. Yet, she knew that the only way to stay was to make herself useful. She asked the only restaurant in town that remained open whether they needed help, but they told her they didn't.
Walking around the town she saw that the photo studio needed an assistant. Being an amateur photographer herself, having spent countless hours experimenting inside a dark room, she decided to enter and ask.When she left the shop, she had a job under her belt. Anthony accepted gladly to lend her the apartment for the winter, and insisted she could have her job back as soon as the high season was on again.
During that winter, Mia helped the photographer develop pictures. He was a wedding photographer, the only one in the region, so he was quite busy, as winter was high season for marriages. During her free days, Mia would take her camera and capture the fury of the ocean, and the calm of the town. But, mainly, the feeling of solitude.
Walking around the town she saw that the photo studio needed an assistant. Being an amateur photographer herself, having spent countless hours experimenting inside a dark room, she decided to enter and ask.When she left the shop, she had a job under her belt. Anthony accepted gladly to lend her the apartment for the winter, and insisted she could have her job back as soon as the high season was on again.
During that winter, Mia helped the photographer develop pictures. He was a wedding photographer, the only one in the region, so he was quite busy, as winter was high season for marriages. During her free days, Mia would take her camera and capture the fury of the ocean, and the calm of the town. But, mainly, the feeling of solitude.
8/10/2014
A Story A Day. Story 218 of 365: Full.
Saint Daniel-by-the-Sea was a small coastal town. It was known for its pristine beaches, its charming colored houses, and its fresh fish. The village was highly dependent on tourism. Yet, the townsfolk had learned how to manage it, and the only hotels allowed were those with ten rooms or less. It was an exclusive vacationing spot, for rich people who valued the calm and the authenticity that still prevailed in the environment.
Mia was fresh out of cooking school when she found a job offer for a spot in the kitchen in one of the hotels in Saint Daniel. She saw it as the perfect opportunity, it would let her test her abilities while helping to refine them.
She arrived on the morning bus on a Tuesday. The bus had taken her down the mountains to the coast, and she had been able to admire the sunrise over the ocean. It had been magical. The bus left her on the main road, outside the town, and she walked to the hotel carrying her bag. She would share a small apartment with another girl working in the hotel.
The town was beautiful, all the houses were small, usually two story tall, and all had flowers on the windows. There were few cars parked on the streets. She felt as if time had stopped and the town had fallen asleep. Mia passed by a bakery, and the smell of fresh bread woke her stomach. She hurried to the hotel, where she would be able to eat something.
The receptionist welcomed her with open arms as soon as he learnt who she was. Anthony, that was what he was called, was the co-owner of the hotel. Mia had spoken with his wife about the job offer. It was high season, he explained as he took her for breakfast, and they had never been so busy. As soon as Mia had installed herself and everyone had been introduced, she started working. It was true they were busy, so true that Mia almost didn't realize summer was over.
Mia was fresh out of cooking school when she found a job offer for a spot in the kitchen in one of the hotels in Saint Daniel. She saw it as the perfect opportunity, it would let her test her abilities while helping to refine them.
She arrived on the morning bus on a Tuesday. The bus had taken her down the mountains to the coast, and she had been able to admire the sunrise over the ocean. It had been magical. The bus left her on the main road, outside the town, and she walked to the hotel carrying her bag. She would share a small apartment with another girl working in the hotel.
The town was beautiful, all the houses were small, usually two story tall, and all had flowers on the windows. There were few cars parked on the streets. She felt as if time had stopped and the town had fallen asleep. Mia passed by a bakery, and the smell of fresh bread woke her stomach. She hurried to the hotel, where she would be able to eat something.
The receptionist welcomed her with open arms as soon as he learnt who she was. Anthony, that was what he was called, was the co-owner of the hotel. Mia had spoken with his wife about the job offer. It was high season, he explained as he took her for breakfast, and they had never been so busy. As soon as Mia had installed herself and everyone had been introduced, she started working. It was true they were busy, so true that Mia almost didn't realize summer was over.
8/09/2014
A Story A Day. Story 217 of 365: Ill.
Kim was waken up by her phone at ten in the morning. She was on summer vacations and she wasn't expecting anyone to call her, so she was a bit confused. She identified the caller as one of her classmates in college. That was odd, they weren't particularly close.
-Hmmm, yes?- Kim said clearly asleep.
-Kim? It's Tina, from college.- there was a sense of urgency in her voice.- Have I waken you up?
-Kinda, yes. What's happening?
-It's not good news. Ann died today.
-Ann?! The girl in our class?
-Yes.
-What happened to her? Was it an accident?
-She was ill, she had been for quite a long time.
-But, but,... She looked okay, I didn't know she was sick!- Kim replied, puzzled.
-I know, few people knew. She had stayed positive, and was convinced she would make it through.
-Oh, my! This is terrible news!
-Kim, can I ask you a favor? Could you spread the news to the other people in the class? I don't have most of their phones.
-Of course, I will.
-I was also thinking that the ones who live closest to her town should attend her funeral. Pay our respects.
-Say the last goodbye.- Kim added.
-Yes. Thanks in advance, Kim. I know it's not a nice job to do.
-It's nothing. We will stay in touch, Tina.
Kim spent the rest of the morning calling or texting her classmates. Some didn't believe what she said at first, they told her it was a sick joke. But all were as shocked as she was. When she had talked to everyone, she sat by herself. Kim felt empty inside, as if someone had taken away all her vitality, her innocence. She had been shoved into adulthood.
-Hmmm, yes?- Kim said clearly asleep.
-Kim? It's Tina, from college.- there was a sense of urgency in her voice.- Have I waken you up?
-Kinda, yes. What's happening?
-It's not good news. Ann died today.
-Ann?! The girl in our class?
-Yes.
-What happened to her? Was it an accident?
-She was ill, she had been for quite a long time.
-But, but,... She looked okay, I didn't know she was sick!- Kim replied, puzzled.
-I know, few people knew. She had stayed positive, and was convinced she would make it through.
-Oh, my! This is terrible news!
-Kim, can I ask you a favor? Could you spread the news to the other people in the class? I don't have most of their phones.
-Of course, I will.
-I was also thinking that the ones who live closest to her town should attend her funeral. Pay our respects.
-Say the last goodbye.- Kim added.
-Yes. Thanks in advance, Kim. I know it's not a nice job to do.
-It's nothing. We will stay in touch, Tina.
Kim spent the rest of the morning calling or texting her classmates. Some didn't believe what she said at first, they told her it was a sick joke. But all were as shocked as she was. When she had talked to everyone, she sat by herself. Kim felt empty inside, as if someone had taken away all her vitality, her innocence. She had been shoved into adulthood.
8/08/2014
A Story A Day. Story 216 of 365: Challenge.
If there was something Emily enjoyed, it was a good challenge. She was all about testing herself, pushing her mind and body to the limits. She had already ran a marathon after having trained for less than a year, and her next objective was an Olympic distance triathlon. She was used to cycling, she had almost been born on a bike, and after having run more than forty kilometers, she didn't think running ten after cycling would be that hard.
However, there was a thing about swimming. As all the kids in town, she had learnt to swim during her school years, but after that she had never been on a swimming pool again. Not to talk about swimming in open waters.
A normal person would have started swimming in a pool, until she felt strong and confident enough to try open waters. Emily was not normal, and she dived into a lake next to her place straight away. The lake was about five hundred meters across at its widest point, and that was where Emily decided to start.
The water was cold, colder than she would have imagined. But she was stubborn, and when she had taken a decision nothing would change her mind. She dove and started swimming. "It's going quite well" she though as she left the shore behind. Some meters ahead a thick forest of algae greeted her. It was disgusting, but there was no other way around. She felt some of the algae tangling on her feet, and kicked them away. Her feet stayed free for a moment, but got caught in something else almost immediately. She kicked harder, but she was trapped. Before she could turn around to disentangle, a force sucked her down into the water. Whatever it was, it was stronger than her, and she ended up giving up the fight.
Her last though was "I never knew there was a monster down here". There wasn't.
However, there was a thing about swimming. As all the kids in town, she had learnt to swim during her school years, but after that she had never been on a swimming pool again. Not to talk about swimming in open waters.
A normal person would have started swimming in a pool, until she felt strong and confident enough to try open waters. Emily was not normal, and she dived into a lake next to her place straight away. The lake was about five hundred meters across at its widest point, and that was where Emily decided to start.
The water was cold, colder than she would have imagined. But she was stubborn, and when she had taken a decision nothing would change her mind. She dove and started swimming. "It's going quite well" she though as she left the shore behind. Some meters ahead a thick forest of algae greeted her. It was disgusting, but there was no other way around. She felt some of the algae tangling on her feet, and kicked them away. Her feet stayed free for a moment, but got caught in something else almost immediately. She kicked harder, but she was trapped. Before she could turn around to disentangle, a force sucked her down into the water. Whatever it was, it was stronger than her, and she ended up giving up the fight.
Her last though was "I never knew there was a monster down here". There wasn't.
8/07/2014
A Story A Day. Story 215 of 365: Mementos.
In the era of memory implantation, Neil was the odd one. While no one ever studied anything, he had decided to pursue a career in Academia. Kids would simply get the knowledge they needed for their everyday lives transferred, and be left to test how it worked. When they became adults they would be given a career choice, whether it was hairdresser, chef, or doctor, and be implanted with the information.
Neil had always refused this path. Since he was a child, he had been curious, exploring the outside world, discovering old books in the only library left in the capital, a relic. His parents tried to convince him that studying was hard, but he would have none of it. He remained stubborn, until his parents gave up and took him to one of the few traditional-teaching schools. As he grew old, he was reaffirmed on his decision. His parents were already used to his rarities, and weren't surprised when he decided to go to the university. Yet, with that new technology, universities had become redundant, and only few around the world had prevailed, none of them in their home country. Neil wouldn't only be going to the university, he would be doing so in a foreign place.
Needless to say, Neil felt at home at the university. There was people from all around the world, book-heads like him, against the general trend of comfort. Because there were so little students, the professors were extremely approachable, and would gladly discuss any topic the students considered. Because they were devoted to Academia, and they were learning for the pleasure of doing so, they didn't need to pick up a major. During his first year, Neil attended lessons on physics, biochemistry, Roman history, social rights, and basically any class he found interesting.
His thirst of knowledge was never quenched, he needed more the more he learnt. And, despite his parents telling him to go back home, find a job, and start a family, and the society ostracizing him, he prevailed on his desire of knowledge and stayed in the Academia.
Neil had always refused this path. Since he was a child, he had been curious, exploring the outside world, discovering old books in the only library left in the capital, a relic. His parents tried to convince him that studying was hard, but he would have none of it. He remained stubborn, until his parents gave up and took him to one of the few traditional-teaching schools. As he grew old, he was reaffirmed on his decision. His parents were already used to his rarities, and weren't surprised when he decided to go to the university. Yet, with that new technology, universities had become redundant, and only few around the world had prevailed, none of them in their home country. Neil wouldn't only be going to the university, he would be doing so in a foreign place.
Needless to say, Neil felt at home at the university. There was people from all around the world, book-heads like him, against the general trend of comfort. Because there were so little students, the professors were extremely approachable, and would gladly discuss any topic the students considered. Because they were devoted to Academia, and they were learning for the pleasure of doing so, they didn't need to pick up a major. During his first year, Neil attended lessons on physics, biochemistry, Roman history, social rights, and basically any class he found interesting.
His thirst of knowledge was never quenched, he needed more the more he learnt. And, despite his parents telling him to go back home, find a job, and start a family, and the society ostracizing him, he prevailed on his desire of knowledge and stayed in the Academia.
8/06/2014
A Story A Day. Story 214 of 365: Enable.
"No, stop. I don't want to go outside, I'm tired. No. No. No. I don't want to go out. I want to stay in. That light is too bright, it's hurting my eyes. Oh! I love this song! Why are turning the radio off? I wanted to listen to it! Yes, I'd love you to read me a story. That one! That one's the best! I really like your voice, it's so warm and comforting,... I'm so sleepy. Good night!"
James had cerebral plasy, and had never been able to move or communicate. No one had ever known the thousands of thoughts that went through his head every day, some people didn't even think he could understand them, and they would say the meanest things. In such occasions he wished he were able to scream, to make those jerks shut up. But he couldn't.
However, that was going to change sooner than he could have ever imagined. A team of scientists, not too far from his place, was developing a mind reading device that would allow him, and others in similar situations, to communicate. When he first heard the news that the scientists were looking for volunteers, he was all excited. Would his parents think about it as an opportunity? Would they ignore it?
Fortunatelly, his neurologist contacted his parents, suggesting them to sign him up for the trial. Hadn't they always wondered what their son thought? Didn't they want to meet him for the first time? Talk to him? They were pretty easy to convince and they took him to the research facility.
James hadn't been that nervous in all his life. What if the gadget didn't work for him? He imagined the worst possible scenarios while they rolled his wheelchair through the corridors. The scientists were really nice, and none of them was wearing a labcoat. They explained the whole process to him and his parents, with simple words, but not condescendently. Afterwards they put some electrodes on his scalp, and plugged the machine. James didn't feel any difference, and he thought "Oh, no! It didn't work". Her mother squealing told him otherwise. She kneeled in front of him, looking at him in the eye.
"James, is it you?" she asked crying. "Is it really you?"
"Yes, mom. I love you."
8/05/2014
A Story A Day. Story 213 of 365: Control.
-The focus of our research is to understand the electrical activity of the brain under certain circumstances: concentration, relax, stress, calmness,... Transform this electrical activity into sounds, and use this sounds to stimulate certain brain states.
-And you have accomplished that?
-Yes, we have been able to make people relax by playing the sound the brain makes in a relaxed state. We have also improved concentration, and we are still testing some more brain states. Right now we are trying the sounds the brain makes when we are asleep in looks to improve sleep in insomniac people.
-So, there are several applications?
-Yes, there are. We are going to start the clinical trials soon, to see if it works with people who have some kind of concentration problem.
The journalist turned down the recorder.
-That's impressive, Dr. Williams. Thank you, I'll be looking forward to the applications of your work in the future.
Ten years later.
Melissa Williams sees in despair how her discovery has turned into something banal. Shopping malls are using it in order for people to buy more, restaurants for their costumers to eat more, and teenage girls to have guys fall in love with them. All that creeps her out. For sure, it is still used in the medical field, and with high success, but she felt it should have never escaped the field. She had retired to the mountains, as soon as it started having a commercial application. But she could not completely escape its influence, journalists kept calling her in order to ask about such an innovation. Her biggest breakthrough had become a nightmare.
-And you have accomplished that?
-Yes, we have been able to make people relax by playing the sound the brain makes in a relaxed state. We have also improved concentration, and we are still testing some more brain states. Right now we are trying the sounds the brain makes when we are asleep in looks to improve sleep in insomniac people.
-So, there are several applications?
-Yes, there are. We are going to start the clinical trials soon, to see if it works with people who have some kind of concentration problem.
The journalist turned down the recorder.
-That's impressive, Dr. Williams. Thank you, I'll be looking forward to the applications of your work in the future.
Ten years later.
Melissa Williams sees in despair how her discovery has turned into something banal. Shopping malls are using it in order for people to buy more, restaurants for their costumers to eat more, and teenage girls to have guys fall in love with them. All that creeps her out. For sure, it is still used in the medical field, and with high success, but she felt it should have never escaped the field. She had retired to the mountains, as soon as it started having a commercial application. But she could not completely escape its influence, journalists kept calling her in order to ask about such an innovation. Her biggest breakthrough had become a nightmare.
8/04/2014
A Story A Day. Story 212 of 365: Memory.
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8/03/2014
A Story A Day. Story 211 of 365: Life.
In a heartbeat, she had lost everything she had. Her job, her family, her house. All gone up in flames.
She recalled that day as if it had been the day before. It could have been, for all she knew. It was a summer day, her sons and her husband were in vacations, and were still sleeping when she left to run some errands. She returned an hour later to find her house, surrounded by firefighters, turned into ashes. Her first impulse was to run inside, to look for her family, but the firefighters stopped her. It was too late anyway, all the bodies had been already removed. The fire had started abruptly and violently, her family had been trapped inside and they died from a combination of burns and poisoning. Hearing that hurt as much as seeing them laid out in the morgue, and almost as much as burying them.
In a heartbeat, everything that gave sense to her life was gone. She retracted into a shell, not letting anyone in. She was staying with her sister while she recovered from the trauma, but most of the days they would not even talk. She wouldn't talk to anybody, actually, deep in a sullen silence.
The days passed and nothing made her change. Her mind was an infinite loop of wondering what would happen to her life now that she didn't have anything. She could have gone back to her pottery, the one she used to live of, but she didn't have the strenght to go to the crafts shop and buy more supplies. So she spent the days staring at the window, flinching when smoke rose from the earth.
Weeks passed, and she was still like that. One day, looking through the window, she saw an old beggar looking through the garbage for food. And, for the first time in months, she connected with him. He was hopeless, as she was, and he was alone, like she was. That man was the answer of all her questions. She decided to volunteer for the local shelter, in that way she would have a reason to live, something to care for.
8/02/2014
A Story A Day. Story 210 of 365: Intellect.
Graduation day, a day he had been looking forward during all his degree. It meant the end of a continued effort pursuing higher education. At least, that was what it meant to his classmates. To him it was the end of his torture. He had only started his university degree because his parents convinced him to. When it had been time to decide what did he wanted to do with his life, he was a mess, he didn't even know what he would do the following day. So he decided to follow his family's advice and pursue a Law degree.
Soon enough, he saw university wasn't for him. He hated the lessons, and he hated studying. Yet, he couldn't get his parents to see it wasn't the best for him, as they would tell him that he would always have a place in his father's Law Firm. He persisted, but only because they wouldn't listen. He passed year after year miserably, and even contemplated suicide. That wasn't what he wanted to do, but what was it then?
After he graduated, his father gave him a job in his firm. He would spend the days unproductively, doing only what he was asked to, and using all the draft sheets to sketch the craziest drawings. He spent half a year like that, losing time at his father's office. He would draw things and throw them away, it was only a hobby, he didn't feel the need to keep them, or to show them to anyone.
In fact, no one knew he could draw. Until one day, when his father's secretary saw him drawing and asked about it. She told him, he had talent, that he should consider pursuing an artistic career, however he was not convinced, pen and paper were boring, and he liked challenges. However, the spark had already set a fire, and he could not stop thinking about it. Finally, he decided to show some of his sketches to a friend of his who was a tattoo artist.
-Wow, those are really good.- she admitted.- Have you never considered to become a tattooist?
Then it clicked. Of course, that was it, he would become a tattoo artist. That was what he had been trying to find all his life.
Soon enough, he saw university wasn't for him. He hated the lessons, and he hated studying. Yet, he couldn't get his parents to see it wasn't the best for him, as they would tell him that he would always have a place in his father's Law Firm. He persisted, but only because they wouldn't listen. He passed year after year miserably, and even contemplated suicide. That wasn't what he wanted to do, but what was it then?
After he graduated, his father gave him a job in his firm. He would spend the days unproductively, doing only what he was asked to, and using all the draft sheets to sketch the craziest drawings. He spent half a year like that, losing time at his father's office. He would draw things and throw them away, it was only a hobby, he didn't feel the need to keep them, or to show them to anyone.
In fact, no one knew he could draw. Until one day, when his father's secretary saw him drawing and asked about it. She told him, he had talent, that he should consider pursuing an artistic career, however he was not convinced, pen and paper were boring, and he liked challenges. However, the spark had already set a fire, and he could not stop thinking about it. Finally, he decided to show some of his sketches to a friend of his who was a tattoo artist.
-Wow, those are really good.- she admitted.- Have you never considered to become a tattooist?
Then it clicked. Of course, that was it, he would become a tattoo artist. That was what he had been trying to find all his life.
8/01/2014
A Story A Day. Story 209 of 365: Romance.
It all started with a question. "Do you want to marry me?", that was it. THE question. Of course, she said yes, what else was she supposed to say? They had been dating for ages, and they had been living together for almost six months. She knew his family, and he knew his. The "yes" escaped her lips before she could even think about it.
However, seeing that stone on her finger made her feel insecure. Was she convinced marriage was what she wanted? She had always considered marriage to be an outdated institution, and she had always announced she would never ever get married. Had she succumbed to the pressure of society or had she really changed her mind? Was she ready to commit? She could always divorce, she supposed, but that didn't say much good of her love towards him if she was ready to divorce before getting married.
He was so excited while planning the wedding, he was much more excited than she was. His enthusiasm made her feel bad, and stress out, so she decided to take a weekend off and fly wherever it was cheaper. It turned out to be Budapest. "Perfect" she thought "a nice friendly city, with thermal baths, and some really good places to party."
She left on a Friday afternoon, he had taken her to the airport, and bid her farewell. He told her to have fun, but his eyes were sad and hurt, asking why was she doing that to him. She climbed on the plane, feeling guilty, but that feeling disappeared as soon as the plane took off. She was heading to an adventure, after all, she didn't need to feel guilty for living her life. As she landed in Budapest, she took a taxi to the city center, she could have taken the bus and the metro, but she wanted to spoil herself. It was dark already, when she reached her hotel, so she left her luggage in her room and went out to look for some place to eat. She was tired, however, so she decided to go to sleep early. She spent the following day walking around both sides of the city, Buda and Pest, admiring the contrasting styles. In the evening, she had a quick bite in her hotel, and then she headed out to a bar she had been advised to go.
The following morning she woke up terribly hungover next to a man she didn't know. She was on her underwear, as he was, but she still wondered what had happened. Feeling incredibly guilty, she realized she would need to call off the engagement, she had cheated on her fiancé. The thought made her terrified, she did really want to marry that man. But, would she even be able to look him in the eye again?
However, seeing that stone on her finger made her feel insecure. Was she convinced marriage was what she wanted? She had always considered marriage to be an outdated institution, and she had always announced she would never ever get married. Had she succumbed to the pressure of society or had she really changed her mind? Was she ready to commit? She could always divorce, she supposed, but that didn't say much good of her love towards him if she was ready to divorce before getting married.
He was so excited while planning the wedding, he was much more excited than she was. His enthusiasm made her feel bad, and stress out, so she decided to take a weekend off and fly wherever it was cheaper. It turned out to be Budapest. "Perfect" she thought "a nice friendly city, with thermal baths, and some really good places to party."
She left on a Friday afternoon, he had taken her to the airport, and bid her farewell. He told her to have fun, but his eyes were sad and hurt, asking why was she doing that to him. She climbed on the plane, feeling guilty, but that feeling disappeared as soon as the plane took off. She was heading to an adventure, after all, she didn't need to feel guilty for living her life. As she landed in Budapest, she took a taxi to the city center, she could have taken the bus and the metro, but she wanted to spoil herself. It was dark already, when she reached her hotel, so she left her luggage in her room and went out to look for some place to eat. She was tired, however, so she decided to go to sleep early. She spent the following day walking around both sides of the city, Buda and Pest, admiring the contrasting styles. In the evening, she had a quick bite in her hotel, and then she headed out to a bar she had been advised to go.
The following morning she woke up terribly hungover next to a man she didn't know. She was on her underwear, as he was, but she still wondered what had happened. Feeling incredibly guilty, she realized she would need to call off the engagement, she had cheated on her fiancé. The thought made her terrified, she did really want to marry that man. But, would she even be able to look him in the eye again?
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