Showing posts with label judgement. Show all posts
Showing posts with label judgement. Show all posts

Monday, June 1, 2009

The Witch on Main Street

“There’s where the witch lives,” said Johnny pointing at the sun bleached wooden house down the street. He bounced his kickball against the garage door and smirked slyly at Billy. “C’mon,” he called dropping the ball in the lawn, “Let’s ring her door!”

“Are you crazy?!” Billy cried flapping his arms at his brave little friend. Johnny proceeded inattentively toward the end of Main Street. The two boys only made it past the first beige house with the blue door when Johnny’s dad spotted them coming home from work. “Where you boys going?” he asked wearily. His dad was a tired man, ever since Johnny could remember, never up for games or adventure.

“He’s making me go to the witch- ouch!” Billy yelped rubbing his pudgy foot, “Why did have you step on my foot?” He glared at his friend. “Nowhere,” responded Johnny. His dad lowered his sunglasses, and his vibrant green eyes squinted over the horizon. The sun was still caressing the hills with seemingly endless light even at supper time. “Be back before dark,” his dad said driving away. The summer heat made the sun stay out longer, which was good for the boys.

Finally after many beige houses with blue doors later, the two boys had made it to the witch’s house. Billy let out a yelp as Johnny’s foot crunched the dead grass on the lawn. Moving as quickly and lightly as possible, Johnny crept toward the doorbell. “Three more steps, two more steps,” he counted.

On the sidewalk, Billy’s eyes jolted back into his head and barely could gasp for air. Through a yellow stained window, a dark shadow hunched over, motionless. Only its long fingers brushed along the sill. “Johnny!” he screamed. Dong… dong. Suddenly, Johnny’s legs froze. He slowly turned his head to Billy who was pointing at the moving figure in the window. “Run!” Billy shouted, “she’s coming!” Johnny panicked. All he wanted to do was run away from the disturbingly hollow shack, but his legs were confined to the wooden step. The witch must have done it, he thought, she must have put some sort of curse on him. “Help! My legs are stuck!” he cried. But Billy’s stubby legs were already wobbling down the sidewalk in distress.

“They always run away,” a voice murmured. Johnny felt the breath crawling down his neck. He prepared for the worst as he turned around and in return, received exactly what he imagined. The witch was aged; her pale skin was dotted with discolored bumps and her wrinkles seemed more like cuts with closer inspection. Her eyes, however, were untouched by the years. The blue color looked as though it was painted on. A mix of ocean water and summer skies.

“I-I’m sorry,” he quivered. The words tingled off his lips so coarsely, they stung. The old woman sighed looking down the overgrown cobblestone pathway. A gust of wind blew the last leaves off the dead tree in the yard, and the empty house wept as the warm air struck. “Please come in,” she said offering the chair in the corner. Slightly intrigued, Johnny took a seat on the red velvet armchair placed next to a warm fireplace. The old lady carefully placed herself in a quaint rocker across from him. Johnny smiled thinking how wrong he was about the witch. Although she barely said a couple sentences, the house itself contained most of the charm. An antique chandelier hung above his left and fragrant flowers sat in the center of a round coffee table. However, the entire room looked like an old photograph, Johnny noted. He blinked a few times to make sure. But in fact, the house seemed yellowed. The rugs, the windows, the furniture all stained in shades of umber.

“What is your name?” she asked pouring a glass of water from the coffee table offering it to him. He kindly accepted.

“Johnny” he answered, “and yours?”

“It’s Emily.”

“Who’s that?” Johnny curiously pointed to the 10 inch photo centered on the fireplace. The man was handsome and oddly familiar; a genuine smile showed only a hint of his teeth and his chest was raised as though he was taking in a breath of refreshing air. The picture was faded, but the tint of the room made it less noticeable.

“Jack…” Emily’s blue eyes drifted off into the photo, “doesn’t he look happy?”

Johnny nodded.

“He and I were happy then. Yes, we spent all our time together. Soul mates, we were. Me and Jack…”

“Then what happened?”

“I’m not sure,” she said clearing her voice. Johnny took careful inspection of the photo and noticed his eyes were green. Quickly he set it back noticing the reflection of his face melt into the frame.

“You remind me of Jack,” Emily smiled.

Johnny’s throat tensed.

“Your curiosity I suppose.” Slightly relieved by this, he concluded it was just a coincidence.

“Well, you better run along home,” she said, “but I did enjoy your company”. Johnny looked out the window to see he had just enough time to get home before dark. He smiled at Emily and left quietly from the rotted front door.

Unfortunately, he forgot about the sunset colored windows. The night had already consumed the pale blue skies. It couldn’t have been more than an hour, he thought, I can’t believe I was there that long.

He shook off the house’s stale odor and breathed the night air. Even though Johnny knew his dad would be angry about missing the curfew, he couldn’t wait to tell the boys at school he went inside the witch’s house.

Monday, April 13, 2009

The Quiet Life

“Becca, be a dear and take this to the table,” Aunt Carol says handing her niece a steaming pot of mashed potatoes. Hastily, Becca complies and then continues her game of chase with the little ones downstairs. “If I only had their energy!” comments grandpa as Becca speeds past. Aunt Carol smiles as she stirs the gravy wiping the spilt excess off the stove then alters the subject into chiropractic doctors for his back. “Carol, don’t be so worried,” grandpa teases, “I don’t feel a day older than 50.”
In the living room, the young couple Natalie and her husband Eli are perched on the fireplace talking to Uncle John and his wife Katherine about their summer vacation in Italy. “I’ve been dying to go to Tuscany!” exclaims Katherine stroking her plump lap dog with her exquisitely manicured nails. Burly uncle John’s giant palms rest on her delicate shoulder and jokes, “Another thing to put on the list!”. Natalie and Eli laugh in harmonious pitches complimenting each other perfectly.
“Dinner!” yells Aunt Carol. Everyone huddles around the dining table.
The bathroom door is closed. Roy flushes the toilet quietly and slides out of the bathroom without a sound. He pulls a neatly sealed card from his coat pocket and hands it to Becca as she trots up the stairs. “Happy birthday,” he smiles. She rips it open plucking the twenty dollar bill out. Quickly, she thanks him and runs over to be seated next to her favorite cousin Lindsey, the one with a butterfly tattoo on her hip.
Aunt Carol encourages Roy to sit next to her and her husband, soft spoken Sam. Roy joins them at the end of the table. He lays his napkin on his lap and grazes his eyes over the selection of food. Finally, he spoons himself a modest bowl of soup against his will (his recent weight gain prompted him to cut back).
Light-hearted conversation is sprinkled over the table. First Uncle John tells the story of how he caught “ole’ big eyes” last weekend at the lake, proceeded by grandpa’s ten year old fish tale, and then Natalie and Eli’s future expedition through Lake Champlain. Roy was about to chime in with a funny story at a lake involving one of his work colleges, but he remembered his current unemployment status and decided against it. Anyways, the conversation had already carried on to another topic, air travel. He smiled and laughed on cue knowing suspicious eyes were watching for weakness.
At 7:00, Roy eventually left reluctantly to his empty home. Only Aunt Carol leaned in for a hug before he left, but her open sympathy just put him in a worse mood. In his small home, he watched Dateline and went to bed at promptly 10:30.
Lying in bed, he felt the silence perturb the room. It opened the door like an unwelcomed guest slithering in suffocating every corner, sucking life from his body, and thrashing his world. Roy tried muffling the sound by holding a pillow to his ears but the sound only got louder. Sshhhhh. It moaned and whined but the silence couldn’t be quieted. “I don’t want to be alone!” he cried, but the silence only echoed his fear. Roy knew it was too late.
The next morning Roy took out the trash while an elderly couple sat on their porch drinking coffee. “Morning Patty! Roger!” he called gently opening the bin. They waved, “Hello Roy”.
“Say mister, why is a nice boy like you single?” asked Patty smiling with a hint of sympathy. Roy smiled back but said nothing as he walked inside. “What’s wrong with him?” Roger asked rubbing his stubble. “Just rude, I suppose,” answered Patty rocking back in her chair.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Frankie says, Relax

Remember the first day of school? You were afraid and didn’t know anyone. You sat in class all awkward and shy hoping someone would magically become your friend. When you came home, your mom reassured you to just be yourself and people will love you just as you are.
For a free-spirited kindergartener, that advice might have worked its magic. Nowadays, teens are more scared than 6 year olds to “be themselves”. Maybe it’s because we don’t really know who we really are. We have been protecting and pretending for so long; we have forgotten. We’ve hidden behind our Coach Bags and generic clothes just to fit in and veiling our true feelings just to be nice. I’m certainly no exception to this, but I just want to ask when it became “uncool” to be ourselves?
Maybe it was when you said that stupid comment at lunch and everyone just giggled to themselves. How about that time you almost tripped down the stairs at school and everyone noticed? Whatever situation it may be, we must not let it bother us. Laugh, relax, and let it go because life is too short to overanalyze.
In short, many of us just forget that we are all human and all susceptible to judgment. And folks let’s be honest here, everyone’s #1 (or at least top 3) priority is self betterment. Everyone in this society is seeking one thing: approval. Whether it’s to get your mom to extend your curfew or getting that really cute kid to like you, approval is a universal concept. How does one get approval? My advice is the same as your mom gave you way back in kindergarten. Let down your guard, make stupid comments (and not care!), and cut that weird kid some slack because we’re not all that different. In fact, we all share a common goal that is worth more than any designer bag.