All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
The Singing Maiden
There was a time where we loved each other. We were married and happy. She had the most beautiful singing voice. She was my little canary. But a day came where I had to put my little bird in a cage.
I didn’t want to do it, but she gave me no choice. I saw the way her family looked at me. They wanted to tear us apart, but I wouldn’t let them. I knew that they was trying to fill her head with lies, trying to get her to leave.
I can never forget the face she gave me, when I chained her leg to the cellar wall. Her eyes, full of hurt. She had grabbed at my arms, trying to talk me out of it. I remember kissing her on the forehead, and her cry of anguish when I closed the door. Of course we had to move to a new house, I couldn’t risk someone finding her.
Before all of this happened, every night she would sing to me. Her voice sounded like an angels - no - better then an angels. She could put the opera singers to shame. She would sing softly and stroke my hair till sleep finally took me.
But don’t get me wrong. I still love her. I just didn’t want to lose her. Every day I took her three meals. She was fed like a queen. I would sit with her while she ate. She never spoke to me. She didn’t even look at me. Every day I told her I loved her. She never responded.
The first week was quiet. I had trouble getting to sleep because there was something missing. Her sweet song.
Then after long sleepless nights, I found myself standing at my window, looking at the sleeping world. It was a cold winter night, but I didn’t care. Then I found myself crying. I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand and held the window sill tightly for support.
Then I heard it. It was quiet at first, like a low hum. I stood there in the quiet and listened. I knew immediately what it was. Her song. It sounded more sweet then what she use to sing to me at night. It was almost, hypnotizing.
Next thing I knew, I was standing at the door of the cellar. My hand was suspended in air toward the lock. “Maybe I could just let her go for the night.” I my heart said.
“No!” My head yelled. “She will make you think everything is good then leave! She must stay down there for her own good.”
“But if you really loved her, would you have put her in chains?” My heart whispered.
My hand stayed there for a moment then slowly fell to my side.
“She will never leave.” I whispered.
Months went by and every night she sang. Once a week, only at night, I would take her on a walk so she could have some fresh air. Then she became sick. Very, very sick. I knew I could not leave her down there. I finally carried her from her cage and took her into our room. For safe measures, I tied one of her feet to the bed post. But she was too weak to move, much less escape.
I cared for her with all my might. I fed her, clothed her, bathed her, like a sick injured bird. She slept more then usual, I started to worry. What would my life be without my canary?
Then one day I had gone to the market on her request. She had wanted her favorite snack, sunflower seeds. It was the first time she had talked to me in months, I would follow her every command, walk to the ends of the Earth to hear her voice.
On my return home, I knew something was wrong once I had stepped through the door. The house seemed, emptier. I dropped the food and ran to the room, my heart stopped. What awaited me in that room was an empty bed, a cut rope, and an open window. I went to the window and looked out.
And there she was, standing in the street, looking up at me. In her eyes, she said a silent goodbye. Then she took off down an alley.
That was the last time I saw my little bird. But I will always be looking for her. And the day I do find her, she will never leave me again.