But are no more.
The clothes fill the box, they are memories of thinner, more active, more...lets just leave it at they haven't been worn in months, some of them years. The hangars are assorted, all styles, colors and types, most of them in good shape.
The clothes are laid in the box and folded over in an attempt to preserve their former neatness, except... well, except for that lump there, no not that one, the big one under the shirt there.
The clothes press down and almost smother the small thing there, but it is nothing compared to what he has experienced in the past. But then, those were happier circumstances, happier times and companions.
He chokes back a sob as he remembers and slowly works to escape the pressure on him. He finally manages to uncover part of himself, and he collapses again under the weight of the clothes.
It's been so long since he was needed, and a tear appears in his eye before being absorbed again by his cheek. These tears are not his own, but ones that he has bourne in the past for others as he held and consoled them, gave them the comfort that others could not.
But wait, do you hear that? At last! One of those companions has returned! He can hear him talking, look, look there! The shirts are moved aside! A wave of cool air washes over him as large, calloused, yet gentle hands lift him into the air.
Joy floods his heart as he remembers the better times of the past, the love and happiness that is stored with his little body from the times it could not be shared. He almost glows as it all rushes to the surface of his soft brown skin and he lovingly looks again into the face of he who owns him.
But. No! Oh why?!
There isn't happiness looking back at him! Only sadness, with a hint of pain, "oh what have I done" he wonders to himself. He doesn't understand, he only wants to love and be loved. Not cause this pain.
He is crestfallen, he hangs limply in the hands and doesn't even react when he is placed back into the box.
He is alone again, with the knowledge that for the time being, he cannot again bring joy.
He begins to weep quietly as his master walks away, he doesn't fight or lash out as the clothes begin again to take over.
But what he doesn't know, is that the initial joy on his face was noticed, it started a change in his master, and his master will soon reclaim him as a companion. There is yet hope, for he can once again be pulled from his living grave and be restored to his former place!
He sparked this story, and now...
Chesterton sleeps at my side tonight.
Yes, it's true, this story is about my stuffed monkey. But I love this little guy...
The clothes fill the box, they are memories of thinner, more active, more...lets just leave it at they haven't been worn in months, some of them years. The hangars are assorted, all styles, colors and types, most of them in good shape.
The clothes are laid in the box and folded over in an attempt to preserve their former neatness, except... well, except for that lump there, no not that one, the big one under the shirt there.
The clothes press down and almost smother the small thing there, but it is nothing compared to what he has experienced in the past. But then, those were happier circumstances, happier times and companions.
He chokes back a sob as he remembers and slowly works to escape the pressure on him. He finally manages to uncover part of himself, and he collapses again under the weight of the clothes.
It's been so long since he was needed, and a tear appears in his eye before being absorbed again by his cheek. These tears are not his own, but ones that he has bourne in the past for others as he held and consoled them, gave them the comfort that others could not.
But wait, do you hear that? At last! One of those companions has returned! He can hear him talking, look, look there! The shirts are moved aside! A wave of cool air washes over him as large, calloused, yet gentle hands lift him into the air.
Joy floods his heart as he remembers the better times of the past, the love and happiness that is stored with his little body from the times it could not be shared. He almost glows as it all rushes to the surface of his soft brown skin and he lovingly looks again into the face of he who owns him.
But. No! Oh why?!
There isn't happiness looking back at him! Only sadness, with a hint of pain, "oh what have I done" he wonders to himself. He doesn't understand, he only wants to love and be loved. Not cause this pain.
He is crestfallen, he hangs limply in the hands and doesn't even react when he is placed back into the box.
He is alone again, with the knowledge that for the time being, he cannot again bring joy.
He begins to weep quietly as his master walks away, he doesn't fight or lash out as the clothes begin again to take over.
But what he doesn't know, is that the initial joy on his face was noticed, it started a change in his master, and his master will soon reclaim him as a companion. There is yet hope, for he can once again be pulled from his living grave and be restored to his former place!
He sparked this story, and now...
Chesterton sleeps at my side tonight.
Yes, it's true, this story is about my stuffed monkey. But I love this little guy...
3 comments:
Everybody needs a love monkey
I know this is a painful story, but it is so well written. The gift of a true write is to draw the reader in, to the point that they feel every word and experience every emotion that is being described. It is really good- I know, I'm a librarian.
Thank you. That means more than you know.
Post a Comment