Spirited 3

Round 1 : Spirited

Round 2 : Spirited 2

Round 3:  Spirited 3

Two hours ago, her brother just left heading to his home, back to own family. They both came back to their mother's house after throwing her ashes by the seashore where their father's ashes were thrown as well.  She was just ten years old then.

Seated in her mother's rocking chair, she reminisces about that moment when she handed a card to her mother after her father's funeral.

While she locked herself in the chair, she roamed her surroundings with her eyes. Around her were books, notebooks and piles of papers arranged in orderly manner in her mother's two bookcases on both sides of the chair, and a writing table against the end corner of the Library Room. Right on top of the chair was hanging a luminous rosary and an image of the Virgin Mary.

She smiled and remembered.

"This is where mom prays her rosary every morning."

She took a deep breath and stood from the chair. Curious about the books on the shelves, she ran her fingers through them. One shelf has a label, "The Writer Series". She counted them and realized fifteen books in them.

"I have read them all, mom."

She whispered to herself. Smilingly she imagined her mother embracing her as her way to show her appreciation as always.

As she went to another shelf, she found more books with different titles.

Another shelf was labeled, "The Bible Journey", still another shelf labeled as "The Little Ka".

"Ah, I remember that you've said your favorite among your writings is The Bible Journey."

She flashed back the memory on her mind, closing her eyes, and remembering her mother's glowing eyes in telling her so.

"And I believed I had told you that I like The Little Ka, the most special to me is the photo you used."

And she repeated the strong laughter they had shared together.

As she opened her eyes, she noticed a pile of draft papers down below the shelves.

The bookcases have five shelves and the drafts were on the fourth. She picked them up and read the title.

"Que Dios Me Perdona"

In English, the title means May God Forgive Me. 

"Of course mom! You write stories in different languages. The more you learn a language, the more you try to prove to yourself you can write in a new language."

So she took the pile of papers and went back to the chair and read the story.

One by one she read through the drafts. The story was written in Spanish, a language she and his brother know as it was the native language of their father.

She accommodated herself well in the chair. After reading the story she felt startled.

"Why in spanish, mom?"

She could only ask herself the question. She took a deep breath and looked at her watch.

"It is getting late."

She looked at the piles of papers on her hands but only found blank papers.

She was shocked. She knew and was sure she was reading a story. How come she looked at it again and they were all blank papers. 

"I wonder if that story has a continuation anyway, mom."

She said those words as if talking to her mom. She looked around and realized herself standing in front of herself wrapped in a blanket, sleeping on the rocking chair of her mother.

"Am I on a dream?"

She asked the question to herself and she remembered something.

The blanket her mom uses to warm herself up every time she seated herself up in that rocking chair was still hanging by the backrest. She had opened it and covered herself while remembering her mother.

Herself standing as her dream vision in front of her body sleeping on the chair, she decided to join herself.

While closing her eyes, she remembered the words of the mother in the story she just read and said it to herself.

"Lo prometo."

Thinking about her own mother when she made a promise, she opened her eyes again then closed them definitely, allowing herself to take that desired rest, smiling and thankful of her mom joining her father wherever they are.

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What is The Pen?

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@bbayonito20(Tap to Author's Profile)

Spirited 2

 

 

Round 1 : Spirited 

Round 2 : Spirited 2

 

 

Standing before the same seashore point where her father was rested, she opens the pretty flowery designed covered jar.

"Stay together forever. Just like your years on earth and in eternal life."

Looking how the ashes flow in the air and falls on the sea water, she remembers the story she just read from the storybook. 

She left it where she found it in the bookshelf of her mother. It was right in front of her working table.

"Well sis, I guess we have to go. It is getting dark."

Beside her stands her younger brother.  According to their mother, she had found her brother and father  looking at the exact location where they are standing at the moment. 

That her father and brother were hypnotized or spelled by something she could not explain. Her brother was then three years old. 

Now, he is ten times that age. She smiles to herself and to her adorable brother.

"Yes, we better go."

The writer's hand got stiffened.

"I guess you better go as well my pen. This is quite a long story you made me write."

As if it was a response to his request, he realized that the pen neither wanted to write. It still had ink, but it was not writing on the paper. It was failing.

"Great!"

And the writer rested his head on his chair's headrest.

But the brother went back to the story writer asking a question.

"So where is the story?"

The sister responded.

"In a book."

The writer gave a wink.

"Let us see what The Pen would decide to do. Let it be through The Writer Series or A Book."

 

(c) bbayonito20/bethbciar

@bbayonito20(Tap to Author's Profile)

 

Spirited

 

 

 

 

"Daddy, come!"

 A little boy of three years old called his daddy who was walking a few steps behind him.

They were walking on a street sidewalk high above the rocks from the beach.  They stand right in front of Alfonsina Beach of Mar del Plata, a vacation province of Buenos Aires.  

On the other side of the street stands the statue of Alfonsina, a famous protagonist of Argentina's love story.

His daddy heard his call, but did not look.  His father's head unconsciously made a turn around above him, his eyes looking up as if following something in the air.  Then stopped. His curiosity led him to the seashore where his son was also looking at, as if seeing something mysterious in there.

The curious smile his father had for him a while ago turned into something serious, but calm. They were both in the same condition for maybe three minutes until his mother came behind them with his older sister. They followed the eyes of his father and his to the aligned rocks formed like a way to a certain point on the water.

"What's up hubby?"

His mother asked his father. She was frowning and puzzled. 

Still looking straight ahead, her husband did not say anything. After a few seconds, her husband grabbed their son's hand and without looking at his wife turned around with his head down.

"I don't know, wifey. I guess nothing."

Then he set himself with his son to continue walking. The mother kept standing where she was, wondering.

"What is in there?"

She turned her look across the street. She read something about the statue built in the place in honor of Alfonsina.

 "Mommy, let's go! They are leaving us behind."

Her daughter woke her up from the mysterious spell she felt around her. So they moved on.

"Yes. We have to move on."

That incident was two years ago.

In her present, the mother became a widow. She was remembering that incident by the beach upon her arrival to their home with son and daughter. They just came from the funeral. Heart and soul heavy  for the three of them. The love of her life, her husband, father of her two children died due to cancer. 

The writer wanted to continue writing, but the pen stopped. He checked if there wasn't any ink left in it. There was enough. It was half way. Shaking the pen did not help. He tried to continue, but nothing. So the writer stopped. 

"For the moment"

He said to himself and The Pen.

"Buddy, I am ready." 

It was The Pen. The writer agreed.

That incident the widow remembered happened two years ago. Few more years before that, she had a talk with the husband's surgeon.

"We have to do the microsurgery. It is a brain tumor that has to be taken out."

It was done. The operation was successful. What followed gave her husband a second life. By then, their daughter was three years old.

A year passed, her husband insisted to have another child. He wanted a son. 

"What if it turns out to be another girl?"

She asked while happily smooched herself in his arms under the bed sheets.

"I'll make sure it's a boy."

That was all he answered. 

Bingo! Ten months later, they have another child. A boy!

She giggled despite her sorrow at the memory. She inhaled deeply and exhaled air, long enough to relax herself. She felt a little alleviated from her pain.

As soon as they were back to their house from the cemetery, she seated herself in her husband's swing chair. There lies his manta, a blue and white colored wool blanket. She covered herself with it.

All the people in the room were busy. They have invited the funeral attendees to come and have a snack before going home. She meant "they" referring to her own family and in-laws who themselves served the close friends and relatives. 

"Mommy, someone would like to give this to you."

It was her daughter. She didn't realize she had come beside her with a little card in her hand.

"Thank you darling. Who gave this?"

Her daughter looked around in search of the person.

"Oh no! I can't find her. It was a small woman in white dress."

Then her daughter continued describing the woman and her conversation with her.

As she described the woman, the first person that came to mind was her mother. But she died already long before her daughter was born.

"Thank you very much sweetie. I can guess who she is."

"Who is she, mommy? She told me before she left to remind you that daddy wanted his ashes to be thrown at the seashore, the beach where we love to spend vacation." 

She smiled at the daughter.

"Maybe an angel, dear. Thank you."

Her daughter smiled at her response with bright eyes.

"Yes, mommy. I felt great talking to her. I just forgot to ask her name."

She gave her mother a strong hug.

"If ever I'll see her again, I will remember to ask her name so I can tell you."

"Okay."

Then she turned around as she was fetched by some friends to play in the backyard.

The widow looked at the card and read...

Someone knocked at the door. The writer has to go and attend. Then continue working with The Pen.

After reading the card, the sad widow closed her teary eyes,and half smiling she murmured to herself some lines to relieve pain in her soul.

"I believe in God, the Almighty God."

The writer then turned to read what's in the card. He smiled. He was pleased.

Message From Jesus:

(Excerpt from Gift Book)

Closer than before I do not separate loved ones through death.

I have given you a spiritual link with your loved one.

Even though he is no longer with you in body, you can still feel his presence and know that he is always with you in spirit.

I will not leave you comfortless and neither will he. He is even closer than before.

Through the years, you learned to almost read each other's mind. You knew what he was going to say or how he was going to react almost before he did, or vice versa. 

Now he can actually read your mind, and just as wonderful, you can hear his voice inside as he guides your thoughts and gives you reassurances of his forever love. This is My way of allowing you to continue to be together in spirit.

But that's not all. Your loved one also wants to help you learn to be more heavenly minded. He has already entered into the joys and rewards of Heaven, and he wants to share a little foretaste of that with you now.

I will wipe the tears from your eyes on that day when we meet face to face, and you will be united again with those you love who have gone on ahead of you.

Before long, you and your loved one will be together again on this side of the veil -- the veil that now separates your world from this heavenly one -- and you will live forever in the beautiful home I have prepared for you.  

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Spirited 2

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