Magpies | The skeleton of the begining of my story

Chapter 2

At last she had found an escape. The upcoming holiday was the break she needed to untie the confusion of knots that was her emotions. Surely a week away from him would make her see that he was just a friend. She spent the whole time distracting herself as much as possible. She went with her friends to the cinema, and tried not to see his face in every male romantic lead. When bowling, she tried to forget his hate of the sport. And she had to check herself when she found herself smiling when his favourite song was played on the radio. By the end of the week, she did not find herself thinking of him less frequently, but at least when she thought of him now, it did not hurt her so much anymore.

But the evening before they were due back in school her resolve cracked, when the phone rang. It was him. She knew before she picked up the receiver, before she heard the voice she had fought to keep from echoing in her dreams for the past few days.

How could she have ever hated him? Or wanted to hate him? All her emotions faded away as she talked to him on the phone, and the emptiness that had filled her for weeks was replaced by the reaffirmation of the knowledge that he cared for her, in whatever way he chose to show it. The realization of that was enough to rain all the fear from her soul.

The reason he had called was to ask her to spend next Saturday with him, as he was going to be at home a lone for the greater part of it. She had of course agreed, but a part of her wondered if it was the right choice. What if she slipped up again, and told him how she felt. The 'L' word could scare most men, even her perfect one. She assured herself that spending time with him as a friend would be a good remedy.

That night, sleep fell easily on her, like a blanket, and strange dreams filled her mind. She dreamed firstly of the day she had met Joseph. She could never forget how she had felt from the moment they had met she had felt the connection, like two pieces of a jigsaw. In her dream, she was now floating above him, and she was trying to reach him. But there was a divide between them, and though she could get close enough to hear him breath, when she reached out to tough him, he fell away from her. Then, she was in a field, and it was nighttime. She sat on the grass, and looked around. He was in the far corner of the field. She could see only his faint outline, but as he moved towards her, he became more apparent, and she could see the beautiful smile once more upon his face. Only, this time, it seemed to cut deeper than that. His whole body seemed to be smiling. He came over to her and put his arm around her. As they sat and watched the sunrise, she saw the silhouette of two birds burn against the orange of the sun, two magpies in flight together. And she prayed that one day she would find her magpie.

When she woke the next morning, she could not shake the image of the field. Had she been artistically talented, she would have drawn it. As it was, the best way she had to express herself was through her poetry, and so she wrote

I have a secret garden
To which I oft retire
I hid there as a child
From risk of rain and fire
The apple trees have boughs
That welcome and invite
The Sun permits no darkness
So my world is none but light
My friends, each of the animals
And each one I hold dear
For when I call upon them
I know that they are near
My childhood songs I sing
As I sit among the flowers
In the knowledge I am guarded
By the Greater Powers
My garden is protected
From every kind of pain
Or at least it once was
But cannot be again
For one time I was careless
Left the gate too wide
Allowed a perfect stranger
To find his way inside
But in truth his garden
I never called my own
To another it belonged
To another it was home
But in pain he caused me
He was not to blame
The fault was truly mine
Because I held the flame
I caused my world to crumble
I caused my Sun to die
I caused the end of paradise
I caused myself to cry
And now as I sit here
And around my garden gaze
Among the ruin and rubble
I think of happy days
Days of endless sunshine
The days of carefree song
Days of blissful happiness
And for these days I long
And still I see my stranger
From amidst the rain
I never knew his garden
Nor will I do again


She hadn’t intended for the poem to be so morbid, but she had thought of Joseph as she wrote, and this was clearly shown in her writing. She knew that she wanted to know him, to see into his soul the way she felt he could see into hers, and this is what she implied in her poem. Perhaps one day she would show it to him, but even she was not ready for that day yet.



When she got to his house the following day, he immediately suggested they go outside, and enjoy the mid-morning sunshine. She sat herself on a bench, and enjoyed the fingers of sunlight that embraced the skin on her bare shoulders. She looked to the back of the garden where he had disappeared to, and saw him carrying something towards her. As he set it down in front of her, she saw it was a hammock.
“Go, on,” he said patting it, “Climb in.”
He giggled as she tried to ease her way on to the soft canvas without tumbling off the other end. Eventually, she had wriggled her way into a reclining position. She lay back, with her hands behind her head, the sun flitting playfully with her eyelids.
“This is very comfortable, I could almost fall asleep here.” She closed her eyes. He sat down on the bank beside her.
“I just love it when the weather is like this. All those poor people at work or school right now can’t enjoy this.” She saw the look of mild amusement on his face, and nodded in agreement. He reached out, and shook the hammock. She screamed and giggled simultaneously.
“Serves you right!” he said. “Look at you, in the hammock, while I have to sit here on the grass” The mock hurt on his face made it difficult for her not to giggle.
“Alright, I’ll get out and let you on?” He shook his head, but instead sat tentivley on the edge of the hammock, and eased his way until he was lying next to her, top to tail. Her whole body was filled with the warmth of him next to her, and she had to fight herself not to react to it. She giggled. He tickled her feet, and she giggled more. They lay there is silence, the sun brushing gently over them, the sound of birds disturbed only by the fish jumping in the pond… and then, an aeroplane.
“You know, apart from the planes, you could almost imagine that you were in the countryside,” he observed.
“People just don’t appreciate the beauty that is around them,” she agreed.
He pointed over past the housing estate. “There is a field over there that I like to go walking in. It’s so peaceful and untouched, it’s amazing”
“Wow, sounds lovely.”
“You want, I could show you it later?”
“Yeh, definitely.” She wasn’t sure that his gesture was sincere, so when he stood up moments later, shaking the hammock as he did so, she was startled.
“Come on,” he said, pulling her out of the comforting cradle. She reluctantly stood up. She was not sure what to expect from the ‘field’, but she followed him anyway. Perhaps a little walking would take her mind from her wandering thoughts.


"...and over there is the sports centre" She followed the line of his protruding fingers. " Just a short walk past there, and we will be at the field" They continued to talk as they trailed slowly along. She looked at him and saw the slight breeze play with his hair, making it dance in time to the rhythm of the earth. She brushed her own hair from her eyes. Before them was a narrow dirt path, through which he led her. As she squeezed past the two poles at the end of the path, she gasped at the vast expanse of what lay before her. Lush green, in millions of shades, painted fields of all sizes, to all corners of the horizon. She had deffinatley not expected this. She closed her eyes and breathed in the surroundings. His voice came from behind her. " It's beautiful, isn't it?" She nodded. It was like nothing she had seen before. Nature was really alive, all around her. Not only in what was evident, what she could see, but also in all that she could sense. She could feel the wind breathing on her skin. She could smell and taste the life all around her. But perhaps most amazing was what she could hear- silence. Stillness and peace was something that, when experienced, speaks right to a persons heart, and whispers to their soul.


She opened her eyes again, and blinked a little in the sun’s light. A white butterfly flew past, and she waved her delicate fingers out towards it. "How pretty!" she said.
"Do you know," he said, "what the French word for butterfly is?" She shook her head. " Papillon" He sounded it out "Pa-pi-llon" How fitting it sounded, almost as poetic as the creature itself. "And the Italian?" he asked.
"Go on, tell me..."
"Farfalla. Far-fa-lla. Isn't it beautiful?" She nodded. He continued with his pondering. "How about the German word?" Again she shook her head.
"Basisrecheneinheit" She giggled at his expression as he spoke.
"What a strange word" He agreed.
" How can they kill such a beautiful word? They can take a word as poetic as that, and make it sound so harsh." He was right.
"Yeh" she agreed, "It's the same with love" She could of bitten her tongue as the words came out, but now she had to continue. " In France 'Amour', the same in Italy. In Germany... 'Liebe'. It just doesn't sound right." He tutted, and shook his head. They had been wandering as they spoke, and now stood above a small, mudded bank, quite steep. She looked down apprehensively as he edged towards the drop, and put first one foot, then the other, over the edge, and eased himself down. He half slid, and half walked to the bottom. She started to follow, but had only taken a few steps when she felt herself sliding. "Um... um... help" she giggled, but then almost screamed as she started to slide more. He put out his arms and caught her, and she caught her breath.
"Come on," he said, "We'll go back now"

Back at his house, they lay in the hammock again, and listened to music. The sun tickled her eyelids, which were half shut, and she could feel the warmth on her arms. The hammock would occasionally shake as he moved to replace the CD. The words filled the air. How apt the words were for the way she felt now.
“It’s about special moments,” he explained, “And how, no matter how bad things are, we can all have one special moment that gets us through” She nodded, feeling again the depth of his capacity to feel, and understand. She knew no other person who could be so openly honest about… well, about everything really.
“Moments like this,” she replied “are what get us through. Time with your friends, perfect weather, music, peace. Almost dreamlike.” He nodded, and sank back down in the hammock. They lay in silence for what seemed forever, but she felt more had been said in the silence than with the inadequate words that language bestows upon us.

I have highlighted in yellow the parts of the story that I have shown to Daniel...

(Edited by CardsForSorrow at 12:41 pm on Aug. 12, 2001)