Here’s a little story that I put together with the help of some crazy talented local people. Our little town is just full of creative and clever peeps, who are always willing (not sure why!) to trust me and come on board for the ride!
Lewis Beer and Mackenzie Downie (and my own little Toby), ….take a bow my wonderful friends. You didn’t just model in this, you acted and performed your butts off!!! So, so beautiful and utterly believable. I can’t thank you both enough for your time, your professionalism and your friendship.
Cath from Mama in Wonderland….I knew the story but your words took it to another level and still made me cry. You are an artist. I can not wait to see what you do next with your literary skills.
Sarah from Sublime Mobile Hair & Makeup your talent when creating the right make up look to set the whole story is phenomenal.
Emily from Mint Condition – for hair, body & brides, your hair style was pure perfection and even I could alter it to get new looks!
See that little play button below….I strongly suggest pressing it before your view the post….go on, you won’t regret it. (Emma Louise – 1000 Sundowns) x
Or, if you happen to have a copy of Dixie Chicks – Travelling Soldier, that works beautifully too….but I couldn’t get it to load. :/
He was bored, there was no one to sing to. He hung out at all the usual places, saw the same old
faces. Uninspired by life, wishing for some excitement. He was on the verge of becoming a
frustrated, destructive teenager. Then she caught his eye.
She was a vision. How had he not seen her around before? She was completely unforgettable, and
truly beautiful in a way that made him want to stare at her, taking in every curve and lovely freckle
of her face. She smiled at him, and he was instantly charmed. Her eyes! He had to play it cool, she
probably had a dozen guys vying for her affection, but boy oh boy, this girl was special.
They talked all afternoon; even her voice was perfect and her cute little giggle made his heart race.
He tried to make her laugh more and more, just to hear the gratifying music of her laughter. And
beyond her beauty, she was good. She was honest, and vulnerable and kind, and spoke about her
family with the fondness of an unappreciated big sister. And she had no idea how incredibly
beautiful and perfect she was. While the afternoon sun faded, their curiosity bloomed.
For her, it was new. Tingly. A tiny bit scary. Definitely exhilarating. She’d never spent time with a boy
like this before. Except for her brothers of course, but they didn’t count; she doubted she’d have to
wipe this boy’s nose. He made her laugh, so much that that she doubled over, muscles cramping
from hilarious spasms, certain she’d never catch her breath. Sometimes she caught him gazing her,
she felt conscious of his eyes on her imperfections and yet ignited, and somehow safe under his
They spent every minute they could together. And one day, without either of them actually saying
anything out loud, they were going steady. The feel of his hand on her back made her skin prickle
and dance. The way she looked at him made him feel invincible – she had picked him, from everyone
on the planet, him!
The pretty girl from the quiet town let her guard down. When she was with him, she wasn’t
anyone’s big sister or neighbour, she was just… herself, in a new way. It sounded crazy, but she felt
like her whole life had been building up to this, somehow she felt like she was always meant to be
his. Every moment of her life before him fell away, and the love she had for her parents seemed so
primitive now, compared to this. She buzzed, and she allowed herself to be silly. If her family could
see her now they’d barely recognise this care-free girl. She loved the unabashed risk-taker she was
He taught her to play. He showed her the chords and how to let her hand hang when she strummed.
Together, they made something that almost sounded like a tune. It was their music, unique to them,
their own song. When she leant on him, her warmth felt like heaven. The borderline problem child
all of a sudden had purpose. He felt an overwhelming need to protect her; he was so in awe of her
kindness and the way her smile lit up the whole world, that he felt like he had to guard her from the
rest of humanity, in case they damaged her.
Their lips touched ever so lightly, but it was real.
She was falling in love. Well, she was in love, and although she was still dizzy and weak-kneed from the falling part, she knew enough to know that this was real. It happened slowly at first, then all at once, like a sunset hurrying off into the horizon so it can admire the brilliance of the stars. She could hardly believe it, only three weeks ago she was running after seven siblings, helping her mum in the bakery, running lunch to her dad at the garage, and now? Now, oh, now she was alive! It was strange to her, the concept that surrendering her heart made her vulnerable and powerful all at once. She had never known such an exquisite, tender, breakable thing in all her life.
While wars raged and industry boomed, while life went on for everyone else…
Together they were unbreakable.
It was giddy, sweet, boundless love. His lips felt familiar now, thet were warm and soft and she
kissed them whenever she wanted. She was nothing about him she didn’t love.
Everyone knew now that they were together. No one even questioned it, which surprised him more
than her. It was a perfect summer romance. Until…
He won the worst kind of lottery. He fell to the ground, physical pain swirling in his tummy. War.
Surely it wasn’t real. They looked at each other, waiting for the other one to speak. But there were
no words, just breathing and heart palpitations. And fear.
A stint at war wasn’t on the cards, but three other young men from their little railway town had been called up just last month. It was a cruel joke; using a lad’s happiest day of the year to punish him, and for what? To march around pretending to be a man in someone else’s fight? No, it couldn’t be.
Time no longer stood still. The bus thrummed with impatience, people shouted his name, mothers
straightened the ties of young boys, people cried. And, he held her wishing that the clock would stop
and they could run, hand in hand, away from this town, away from official envelopes, away from
They clutched, desperately willing it to be happening to two other somebodies. They had become almost addicted to each other, breathing each other in so deeply that he forgot what it was like before her, and she couldn’t even contemplate a moment without him…
She watched the bus pull away, taking her love with it. Who was she now, without him? She counted
the days that he was gone. Where was he? What was it like over there? For the first time since the
damn war started, she scoured the newspaper, scrolled through stations on the wireless, hungry for
every tiny snippet of what it might be like for him over there. She even asked her neighbour, who
had been to Germany all those years ago. He didn’t say much except ‘we’re praying for him love.’
And then the telegram came. She crumpled, holding her legs together sure that her whole body would split into pieces at the news.
She sat for the longest time, until her legs were numb and she was unable to move. She was inconsolable. It was real.
She couldn’t let him go. Surely he would come back. People muttered their sorries and tipped their
hats and on the inside she laughed at them. A boy died and they think ‘sorry’ actually helps him? Or
her? She was angry, but mostly she cried. And waited.
She played his songs, willing him to follow the music home. She played by heart, showing him that for all his lessons and all her practice, something good had come from it. She played to prove that their love was real, the melody of his music echoing across the empty street. No one came out to listen, it was just for him, a beacon to follow. She played until her fingers bled, maybe he would come home and kiss her wounds.
He wasn’t even gone long enough for her to receive a letter from him, she wondered if he had received hers; her words could be lost forever in a foreign place, read by some stranger who couldn’t have possibly understood what they meant. The thought of him alone, in the muddy jungle, bleeding, had made her insides twist and turn until the tiny amount of food she had forced herself to eat emptied from her stomach, her whole body was betraying this crazy new reality.
She felt like he was right beside her.
While the train passed through town, she waited; his tags could have fallen off, they confused him with someone else. While schools rapped the knuckles of wayward children, she waited; he could be on his way home right now. While babies were born, she waited; he’s probably trying to sort the whole thing out. She waited, and the world just rattled on, like nothing had changed. She waited in their favourite places, alone, silent, the music had left her now. Why wasn’t he coming home?
It was real. It had actually happened. When they talked about the war before he left, not coming home may have entered their minds, but it went unspoken. There was a whole life to live, a future ahead of them that not even a war could stop; their love was too great.
She hated everyone. She was angry. She kicked and wailed and denied herself everything; sleep, food, water, company, sunshine – if he couldn’t have it then neither should she. She cried, indeed, she shuddered with the physical pain of a broken heart. A reality without him was terrifying, it hurt, it was real.
She knew it now, he wasn’t coming home. He was gone. He died. She couldn’t explain how or why, but she knew he wasn’t here, and yet felt he was here at the same time. It wasn’t a peaceful resignation to the idea of life without him, but it was certain. He died. She did receive a letter from him, she’d never noticed before how lovely his handwriting is. Was. He spent two paragraphs telling her of his eternal love, how beautiful she is, how he missed her. He briefly mentioned the war, it was dirty, and dark and hot, and he missed her. He didn’t say so, but she knew he was scared. All the boys were scared as they faced someone else’s enemies, innocent boys like him, who hadn’t wronged him at all. She imagined him gripping the gun, imagined it feeling foreign and heavy, yet almost his only chance at coming home. It was real.
She stilled herself. Took in a deep breath, and felt him there with her once again. She imagined one last kiss. Knowing her life would forever be a tribute to him. Knowing that she would never forget she was once loved more than anything in the whole world.
The war still raged, and everyone was changed. Some were outcast for their behaviour, some were shunned for their choices, some were celebrated, and some kept moving forward because there was no other choice. Time passed. She found his music again, and along with it, little pleasures.
She played on, but she wasn’t alone…
She breathed him in; her little boy, her son. So much like his daddy that sometimes she found herself engrossed in the way his little hands would glide along the strings of the guitar. His daddy had lit up her heart in ways that she didn’t believe were possible, and yet loving this child was something new all over again, and it just got better every day.
He was hers, and no war, no gun, no stranger could take him away. Her heart thumped with adoration of this little person who gave evidence to the love she once knew. She taught him to play, and it turned out that he had followed the music home.