thoughts from an empty head

Olga knocked on my door just after I got home today.

“Could you hold the baby for a while?”

So I did. I told him stories about a very old man called the Doctor. Stories about far away tales of a sailor named Sinbad. Stories about a small yellow bear who wanted hunny. Stories about a young boy who met an armed giant with only five rocks.

And just as I finished all the familiar stories, as he was looking at me with his light grey eyes, I told him another story no one had ever told. It went something like this.

Once upon a time, there was a young man named Steven. Steven lived in the air, since, as far back as he could remember, his feet had never touched the ground. His father and mother warned him never to do this, for when his kind touched the ground, they changed from beings of air to beings of earth, putting down roots in the poison ground and never flying again.

Steven’s family was quite unique, since there were few like them in the word. They went from place to place, always touching the people they met without ever touching the places themselves. Everyone remembered them after they passed. Some remembered that Steven’s family was quite nice and a little humorous. Some remembered Steven’s family as thieves and brigands, not fit for any good work. Still, Steven and his family flew and flew and flew, flying from place to place.

Then, one day, as Steven flew over a wet, humid place far to the South, he saw a beautiful young maiden. She was the most perfect girl Steven had ever seen. She had long flowing black hair and sad brown eyes that lit up when she smiled. She seemed not to touch the ground, even though she was not of Steven’s people. Instead, she dreamed.

Steven could scarcely believe that such a perfect creature could exist. Still, Steven remembered what his mother and father said about touching the ground, and so he kept his distance from the girl, always flying around her, but remaining far enough away that he would never touch the ground.

One day, the beautiful girl saw Steven and called to him, “Come down and talk to me.”

Steven hesitated at first, but eventually relented. He came close enough to hear the beautiful maiden.

She smiled prettily at Steven and asked him, “How do you fly?”

Steven thought for a moment and said, “I just do. I’ve never really thought about it.”

The maiden stared far off into the distance. “I’m going to fly one day. I will fly far away and never be tied to the earth. I will see great things and do great wonders and meet new people.”

She then turned to Steven. “What do you want to do with the future?”

This question troubled Steven. He had never thought to ask this question of himself. All he did was fly from place to place.

“I don’t know. All I’ve ever done is fly.”

She looked into Steven’s eyes and asked, “Will you teach me to fly?”

Steven felt a shudder run through him. He did not know if he could do this thing.

“I don’t think I can. I must leave soon with my family for far off shores, and I’m not sure if we will have time to take you along.”

She looked sad then. “I understand.”

She turned and walked away. Steven watched her go and, only after a very long time, he floated away, to think about what he had done.

He thought of the fair maiden. He thought of her river of dark, flowing hair, of her long, pale legs, of her slim waist, or her smile and her tears. He thought of the two of them flying together for all time, arm in arm. Two halves of a whole, finally together.

He knew what he had to do.

He flew back to where she was.

But she was gone. He looked for some time, but he could not find her.

He never saw her ever again.

Sometimes, when the cold north wind blows, you can almost hear a sigh in the wind, like a broken heart sending a plea.

Take a chance. It will never come again.

You should listen to that sigh, little one. Always take a chance on love. Because you never know when it will ever come around again.

And that was the story I told my nephew. He stayed awake during the whole story, almost as if he waited to hear the end. Then, he put his hands across his face and went to sleep.

I hope he will listen.

This entry was posted on Friday, January 23rd, 2009 at 11:01 pm and is filed under fiction, personal log. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.