Magpies | The skeleton of the begining of my story

Chapter 1

The cold breath of the morning kissed her face as she stepped out of the door. Today was the day, she knew it. She closed her eyes and could see him, every tiny intricacy, and she held her breath to prolong the moment. As she opened her eyes, the sun came from behind a cloud, and the bright light pierced her eyes. She blinked, and pulled the door shut behind her. She still didn't know what she would say when she saw him, but she could still predict his reaction. She shook her head to expel the thought from her mind. She had to do it, there was no turning back.


She sat on the bus while the conversation drifted over her head. Her friends discussed their holidays, and their regret at having to return to school. The meaningless words were drowned out by the constant thud of her heart. The six week break had made her realise how much she needed him, and that the look on his face would be nowhere as near as bad as the missed opportunity, and knowing each day that he could not see the pain he caused her. So she had made up her mind to tell him how she felt. Even if her feelings were unrequited, she had to know... she had to set herself free. If she could look him in the eye, and hear him say it, then she could escape from his power. He would be changed in her view, and she could move on.

She saw him as soon as she alighted from the bus. After so long, her heart still jumped from seeing even his distant silhouette. Immediately she knew her decision was right. She just had to wait for the right moment. And that moment came at lunchtime.

She knew she would see him at lunchtime. As every day, she would go with her friends to the common room, and he would be sitting, as usual, with his friends. She would be drawn in to conversation with him, but instead of looking in to his deep blue eyes as she usually did, and enjoying the light easy conversation, she knew she would be avoiding eye contact, as she tried to delay the inevitable question, and the heartache she was sure would ensue. As she walked to the common room, she felt like a prisoner on death row, walking their final steps. She blinked away the tears she could feel forming in the corners of her eyes, and let out a small sigh. Her friends noticed that she was quieter then usual. They enquired to this, and she merely shrugged her shoulders, dismissing her mood to be tiredness. She couldn't tell them, because she knew they wouldn't understand. They flew in and out of their crushes, changing their mind with the weather. But she knew it was different for her. She had felt like this for over a year, and this was the first person she had ever 'fallen for'. She knew it was deeper than a crush, but her friends played it down, telling her it was less than she knew it was. She couldn't explain to them. Her every waking thought was about him, and his happiness. Some mornings the only reason she got out of bed was because she knew she would have a chance to talk to him that day. And now she was going to throw it all away for nothing. But it was not nothing. She had to know. Although her every happiness in the world was him, her happiness was the same very thing that broke her heart anew each time they talked, or when their hands brushed together as they walked side by side. She could feel that same pain now, the feeling that her heart had been set alight, and even now just thinking of it, the pain was unbearable.

As she entered the doorway a sensation went down her, and she could feel herself trembling. She could feel his eyes upon her even before she looked up. Could he tell? Could he see right inside her, and know what she was thinking? As her eyes met his, she was sure he knew her innermost thoughts. They both nodded hello to each other, and she walked towards the seats where her friends were already sat. The seat next to him was, as always, free for her to sit on. She tried to act the same as ever, but even she knew she was overcompensating for her somersaulting stomach, and the sick bile feeling that was rising in her throat. She was startled by the question...
"Hannah? Are you alright?"
Did he know? Could he see it? Had she been too obvious?
"I'm.... I'm fine Joseph... I... I..." she trailed off. The look in his eyes finished her sentence, and confirmed her fears.
He pulled her to one side, out of earshot of everyone else. When he turned to her, the look in his eyes was one she had never seen before. It was a mixture of pain and sorrow, a look that showed he knew what she was going through, and didn't want to hurt her.
"I'm sorry" he said, "I know what you want to say to me.... I've... guessed for a while... I didn't want to say anything, I thought we could carry on as normal"
"I didn't.... I mean... I don't want to lose you as a friend... but I had to know."
"I'm glad to know that you still value the friendship, and I want you to know that I do too... and it's not that I don't think you are a fantastic person..." Until then she had been staring intently into his eyes, but now she looked away. There were no tears to hide, but that, she felt, was the shame itself. He saw this, and stopped. He put his arms around her, and drew her close. She felt she had to explain herself. But how could she explain to the only person she had ever loved. To say to him that she wanted to hurt herself, to cause him to hurt her. To say that she didn't want to love him anymore, so that she could be as good a friend to him as he was to her. But then to make him understand that he did hurt her. Every time he hugged her, when he waited for her outside class, even when he did just a simple thing for her, he made everything worse. He made everything the mess it was by just being him. She looked at him, and her soul spoke more than she even knew herself. And then she felt the release, and the tears flowed freely. He sat and held her as she cried, not speaking. He held her close, and she knew from that moment that her feelings would never die. For she realized she did not need to stop loving him, but instead, to stop waiting for him to love her, because if only he was her eternal friend, that was enough in itself.



She could not escape the questions that echoed in her ears, brought movement to her limbs, and prevented her heavy eyes from closing. The stillness of the night only made the silent questions louder. Why did he not want her? Could she really continue to be his friend? Why was it that she loved him all the more for his reaction to her, what can only be called as madness? She had thought it would be easy when she knew all the answers, but instead it bred more questions. The morning brought with it, not relief, but dread. She could not face the day knowing she no longer had nothing to hope for. The dream had been blinked away by his sympathetic eyes as he had looked at her, pulling her heart away from all reality. She couldn't rebuild the dream when it had been broken by the hand of the creator, but the memory burned in her mind brighter that the fantasy ever had. Now it was a reality, a reality that was more difficult to face up to than the implausibility of her transient dreams.

There was a cool breeze as she made her way to the bus stop, and the drizzling rain seemed to mock the tears she could not cry. The sun no longer lightened her spirits, but seemed to show her where all her fears hid. She still saw his face as before, and although it still stirred within her the same feelings, these no longer brought her the same comfort. She was glad when the bus arrived, and she could hide her inner anguish in the friendly babble of the friends she knew could never hurt her in the way he had.

Seeing him for the first time that day brought none of the usual elation. She could not hold eye contact with him, much as she wanted to, needed to. She needed to know if the laughter in his eyes was about her, for her pity, or an attempt to hide the truth. Had he considered it much over the long, long night, and realised he could no longer remain her friend? She pushed the thoughts to the darkest part of her mind. She had to keep her chin up; she had to let the world know that she was the victor. But he would know. He could see into her soul, and know the answers before she had even found the questions. She looked up again as she entered the classroom. The moment of eye contact quenched all her fears. She could see that the expression in his eyes was for her benefit. He was doing what he could to keep her strong, and in acknowledgment of this, she could not help the small smile of relief that found its way on to her face, which, until that moment, had held an expression of glazed pain and fear. She didn't dare breath as she sat down next to him, for fear that the slightest movement would cause the barrage of truth to be revealed. She was sure that he couldn't be as calm about this as he pretended. But perhaps nothing had changed between the two of them. Her best friend insisted so, but she was not sure, and so she found herself acting different towards him. She did not intend to, but found herself insulting him more often, and snapping at him for no reason. She was angry at her own inability, and was taking it out on him. She had to use all her will not to hit him many times through they day from frustration.


She had never felt as hollow as when she got home that night. Part of her wished he had not taken it so well, that he had gone awkward, or had over reacted. Then at least she could rid herself of the 'perfect' image she had of him. She thought of how Oscar Wilde had written about women placing their men on ‘pedestals’, and realized how true his words were. She had created a perfect image of him, and when the mirror was smashed, the shards of truth hurt more than anything she had known. And yet she knew he wasn’t ‘perfect’. He hurt her every day, by just being who he was. If he had hurt her in any other way, then she could escape from him, and the hold he had on her. And to make matters worse, she still couldn't help thinking that, just perhaps, he may actually be interested in her. She decided to go for a walk to clear her head. She walked to the park, and for sake of anything else to do, sat on a swing. The simple movement distracted her from her thoughts. She sang to herself, songs she remembered from her childhood, songs that she had loved all her life, and songs that reminded her of him. She thought as she sang, of the beautiful people in the songs. The happy moments, the perfect dreams, and the true loves. The heartbreaks, the tears, and the pain. And she hoped that one day her life would be a song, instead of a ballad.

After about an hour of the repetitive movement, the storm inside her had calmed, and she was finally at peace, so decided to head home. She now felt ready to face reality again, safe ion the knowledge that her dreams were hers, even if they never did come true. The world around her was nowhere near as bright as it had been in the days before she faced her fears, but at least the fog that had hung over her for the past few days now showed some sign of clearing. All it needed was for her to take the world face on, and show no one her pain, and her secret weakness. Just at that moment, a single magpie flew over the housetops before her. At the sight of the lonely omen, the tears of her million sorrows found their way to her eyes, and fell down her face as so many wayward dewdrops.


(Edited by CardsForSorrow at 12:36 pm on Aug. 12, 2001)

You are indeed the half empty optimist Mags.

I remain optomistic.... but I am now happy.... I wont tell now, it will ruin the story

This was very disturbing for me to read. Because I have been there...And not with THE ONE unfotunatelly...I though that this other girl might have been the one for me, and I hurt because of this for two year. She cause my biggest depression, and she turned out to be a nobody...You story made me want to show you the following lines...Written in my diary, from 10.27.99 till 11.2.99...

"Anyway it's getting more and more frustrating this relationship I have with Jenny. It's getting more and more painful to spend so much time around her just as a friend unable to kiss her or hold her hand. Something has to be done. "

"God I love her! Also again, as yesterday, I felt like she was blocking nay attempt of a date. When we were going towards the secretary earlier I asked her if we should go somewhere after she gets the job done. She didn't say a thing and I could see by the look on her face that she was rather unsure about this. So after the talk in the middle on the yard everything was decided and she said she was going to lay for half an hour and then to a store and that we were going to see each other on Friday, since tomorrow family will be here. George tried to leave me there but it wasn't to be. The second we turned around I whispered "This is no good for me. I can't take it any more. I can't spend so much time around her without touching her or knowing she's with me.". I've never felt like this around her so far! I was usually content to having her near. Well not any more. "

"But unfortunately our first date, after 737 days of yearning left me thinking that there are only two possible solutions:
Either next time we meet I tell her everything so I won't be the only one hurting and thinking about this (I can't take the pain anymore, I need some of the load in my heart to be lifted) or I will just avoid seeing her at all. There is no middle way. Not any more. I cannot go on with her as just a friend as she wants. No way. It's either shared or I won't see her any more. It will hurt, but it hurts more sitting near her just as a friend. Knowing all I know..."

"All that was in vain. Beside the unbearable pain inside it almost turned into something physical too!! The worst moments are always the ones immediately after we split. After her modeling seminar we talked a little till her elevator came, she was looking incredible today. After she left I got sick. I mean literally sick. The modeling seminar was the worst ever because I was feverish, cold, I felt like dying. Angel understood and let me go earlier. I hurried to that other place where again all break long I chatted with her. And after the course I waited for her and followed her down. She doesn't know what to do about the dorm (I thought I had it made) because there are checks. So she will probably go into a disco and stay there till three am. I almost went crazy after we split. I wondered around downtown then barely made it here and listened to 90 minutes of the most depressive and helpful music ever. I think I feel better now. Mentally I mean since physically I'm alright."

"I think I will just avoid seeing her. That's it. I mean where does she get this power to hurt me so much? And she is unaware of it! How can you posses such a force and be unaware of it? Damned she looked sweet today! I love her so much despite all this pain she makes me feel. What am I supposed to do? I am ready to make deal with God or Satan, whoever. Who can help me? Come on!
It's a good thing that I was (and still am) home alone and nobody could bother me. If the phone rings I won't care, I don't want to talk to anybody, not even George and Zea. No one can save me, the damage is done. I sent them an E-mail with the lyrics from "Blow up the outside world"."

Two weeks later everything was finally over, after her final offense I was free from her. And from then on, it all went up...I recognized the feelings I would have each morning and night in your story. I truly hope that our cases are different...But from what you say, they are...I hope you don't mind me posting this in your topic.

(Edited by Amor Fati at 12:13 pm on July 18, 2001)

I dont mind at all.... I want my story to touch people, to make them remember what they feel, or have felt, because surly, this is what makes a good story.

I hope also that our cases are different, but I cannot say. I only know what is now, I cannot know what is to be, and cannot say what will happen untill it has.

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)

Ah... The story continues. You really write well.

Its my style, the way I see things.... I'm just glad people like it is all...

Wow...My eyes hurt but this was truly beautiful..You write so well, I mean I felt like I was there watching you...I almost felt everything that was outside...As for the things inside...
And that poem, you'd shown it to us before right?

And what did he say about this?

Yeh, I think I did put the poem here before. It wasn't written for the story, but it fit so well, I had to include it.

Daniel loved the first part of the story, and suggested I enter it in a short story competition that is currently running.

the second part, he reminded me of some things I left off... hehehe

Cute..

Wait till you hear this.... he has asked me over to his house tommorow, because he thinks we should both work on our stories together (he is writing a story too)... I mean,... out of the blue he decides this...

Man I'll feel for you tomorrow...I'll have my fingers crossed. Good luck!

yeh, fingers crossed, arms crossed, eyes crossed, and legs crossed, but only caus I need the toilet...

Thanks for the wishes of luck, God knows I will need it...

And you'll get it...