Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

From Before

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
Only has the garden ever needed me
For she needs her music to grow
I sit upon the rock and play
My cello an extension of my heart
Back and forth goes thy bow
Fingers flying down the freights
Strings singing clear white notes
Music drifting on the breeze
Over the hedge and under the trees

This garden is sacred
Mine and hers alone
For no one has ever needed me
But this garden

I play the classics
I play the folk
I play the songs that come from my heart
And I play the songs that no one knows

Whatever I play no one hears
Except this garden that is always near
Close to my heart
Always on my brain
Her soft scents reaching me
Even in my dreams

You may say that I was surprised
When he snuck into my garden for the first time
I caught him that day when he happened to sneeze

My bow stopped
My fingers halted
“Who goes there?” I said in shock
No one has ever entered this garden
No one but me

“I’m sorry!” He said jumping up
A deep voice smooth as silk
Eyes the color of sky
Hair a straw gold

I stood up surprised by his sudden appearance
I never talked to the boys
My mother disapproved of the practice
Father was dead
So I picked up my skirts and cello then fled

I skipped a week and then went back
For only has the garden ever needed me
And I realized after the weeks end
For that I needed it as well

I looked around, bow in hand
Not seeing the boy, I calmed
Sitting on my rock felt like home
So I picked up my hands and went to work
The sound was the same
As were the songs
But something seemed different

But I loved this garden
Nothing could tear me away
Even in the winter I visited and sang
When it rained I came and listened
The garden’s music was much better than my own

After countless songs played the sun began to set low
I had forgot to keep the time
It was getting dark and it was quite a walk to get home

As I stopped my final song
Were I said good bye to my garden
It whispered back and then went silent

But as I finished the song
Across the garden I heard a reply
I was confused
Since when could a garden play the
Violin?

I listened and waited
The song played strong
From morning to joy the music was played well

Then the song switched and I knew these notes

A lullaby that I called my own

I couldn’t resist
I picked up my bow and joined in
Quietly at first but stronger when the song came back to its beginning
I smiled
I had never played with anyone before

The music melted into one
The notes ringing back and forth
My fingers quickened and slowed
They followed the flow

I stopped quietly but the violin continued

Who was playing on the other end?
How’d they know my song?

But the song continued, as if waiting for a friend

I picked up my cello and followed the sound
To the other side of the garden I went
And there I found a man

Hair a straw gold
Eyes closed shut
His face composed as if in sleep

He leaned into his violin
As if playing meant everything to him
He seemed to be cut off from this world
As if it was just him and the bow

I was surprised
I was confused
I was in love with the music he coxed out of that violin
Even if it was my song it sounded different
Better
When he played it
The song started to wind down to its end and I turned to leave

“Wait!” He called
The music stopped sharply
The ugly note hung in the air

It was hard to run with skirts and a cello
But I made it to my rock until I was caught
“Please wait! I only want to talk!” He pleaded, a blush across his face
“Do you remember me?” He asked, a look in his eyes

“Yes! You were the man in the garden last time I was here!” I said shocked
No one had ever wanted to talk to me

My skin was pale
My hair straight and black down my back
My eyes the color of emeralds
Cursed with the looks of my father and not those of my mother
For her looks was more favored

“No not from then!” He said with a smile “From before.”
I looked into his azure eyes confused, but he seamed certain

“I’m sorry. But I don’t know who you are.” I replied confused
His gentle grip on my arm loosened and he let go

“I’m sorry for bothering you then.” He said with a sad look on his face
His shoulders hunched and seemed to have a lost the happiness in his eyes
‘I was so sure.” He added as he turned to walk away

“Wait!” I called
I remembered those hunched shoulders
That look

He looked back to me with confusion on his face
“Yes?” He asked, turning to me
His head tilted

“Are you perhaps Lucas?” I ask quietly

His eyes brightened a smile showed
But then he paused and spoke quietly
“Are you perhaps Ivory?” He asked back
“The girl who plays for this garden every day?” He asks

“Yes, well it’s not every day but close to it I guess. How do you know my name?” I asked

“How do you know mine?” He asked back with a grin spreading on his face.

A smile broke across my face as well
It dawned on me

“From before.”



Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!




Site Feedback