Composition story
This story was inspired by the composition picture...and again, it just flowed from me. Most of the feed back I got from "Unique" was "what happened to the baby?" I guess I answer it with this follow up story. I wont do an intro, I'll just let you read it. It's 1700 words.
“His Shadow For Life”
He didn't understand it, why he felt so good with a guitar sitting on his lap. It was smaller than adult guitars, naturally, but Kenny loved it. He liked sitting on the front steps of his house and strum it. Sometimes, people would walk by and ask him if he knew songs. Often the requests were for songs Kenny wasn't allowed to listen to. Songs on the radio. Kenny's grandmother told him it was music Satan put in the hearts of evil souls, and his Daddy was an evil.
Yes, ever since Daddy killed Mommy. Grandma didn't know Kenny knew about that. Some man had told him one day, when he was playing his guitar. The man also stopped and taught Kenny a song, it was a song he wasn't supposed to play. It must have come from the radio.
Kenny played a lot of church music on his guitar. After Mass on Sunday's Grandma sat in her rocking chair a listened to him play from the inside of the screened in porch, but he liked to sit on the stairs outside of the screens. He could see people better, and they could see him and ask for songs.
Grandma asked him to play certain songs a lot. He sang a little too, with his cute, high pitched tenor. Grandma wanted him to sing in the choir, but he wanted to play the guitar more than sing, and the choir director didn't like his guitar. Mr. Allen was his name. Mr. Allen told Kenny, if he wanted to play it in the choir, he would have to paint it. Kenny didn't like that idea very much, so he never got to sing in the choir.
So he played the Sunday selection when he came home from Mass. He always ended it with Grandma's favorite: “On Eagles Wings.” And she always cried when Kenny finished it.
“You have a sweet, innocent voice,” she said. “You remind me of you mother.”
“Am I going to live with Daddy, when he gets out of prison?”
“Kenny, it's up to you.” Grandma said. “I love you to pieces honey, but he has every right to take you when he gets out.”
“Someone told me...he killed Mommy.”
“Who told you that?”
“Someone.”
“You can tell me darlin'. Come here,” she put out her arms, and Kenny climbed onto her lap, leaving the guitar on the steps outside. “Do you believe it?”
Kenny nodded.
“It's true,” Grandma said. “Five years ago, on the night you were born.”
Kenny furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at his grandmother's cross necklace.
“Are you alright?”
He nodded.
“Are you telling me the truth?”
He shook his head.
“You don't have to go live with him if you don't want to.”
He shrugged and flipped the cross in his fingers.
“What's the matter, bug?”
“I dunno,” he said.
“Are you afraid?”
“I dunno.”
“You don't have to be afraid of your Daddy. He's a good man.”
“Why did he kill Mommy? Was she bad?”
“No, your Mommy was very good. I don't know if you'll understand this, but your Daddy was never convicted...that means it was never proven, that he killed her. But her family sued your Daddy, and he couldn't pay the money they were asking for. So he went to prison for five years. You know you're going to see your Daddy tomorrow, don't you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you excited?”
He shrugged.
“You know you can ask your Daddy whatever you want. Don't you?”
“Yes.”
“Good, because that's what I taught you. Always ask questions.”
“Do you think Daddy killed Mommy?”
“Well, that's a difficult question, Kenny. You know I always tell you to tell the truth, but I don't know if I can tell you...”
“You can tell me,” Kenny met his eyes with her.
“Oh, you little angel,” Grandma said, pinching Kenny's cheeks. “You can pull anything out of me. You look so much like your father...but every time I look into your eyes, I see your mother...the eyes of a cherub, staring down at me.”
Kenny looked down and played with the cross again.
“I really don't know. You father says he didn't, but I'm not sure.”
“Didn't you teach him to always tell the truth, like me?”
Grandma's eyebrows became wide, crinkled S's. “I thought I did.”
“Can he stay hear for a while?”
“Would you like him to?”
“I want to see if I like him before I stay with him. If he's nice when he's here, then I can see if he good or bad. I could tell you Grandma.”
She smiled down on her grandson. “You marvelous cherub of God. You're smart. God has blessed you with a mind greater than your age.”
“You're talking funny, Grandma.”
“What do you mean, bug?”
“You told me to tell you when you were talking funny.” Kenny said, sliding down from her lap. “You also told me you might forget telling me.”
“No, I didn't forget, darlin'. I was just hoping you were joking.”
“Why would I joke?”
“You're asking too many questions, please.”
“I'm sorry.”
Grandma got up from her chair, and went into the house. Kenny turned back to his guitar outside, and went to it. He sat on the steps, and was quiet for a minute. Then he heard her, his grandmother was crying. His mother's parents didn't want him. He remembered hearing that, one day, his grandmother said it over the phone to one of her friends. Daddy was his only option. Grandma was getting sick. She couldn't remember things, sometimes. And she talked funny sometimes too.
He picked up his guitar, and positioned his tiny fingers on them. He strung the first chords to Grandma's favorite church song. She looked out the window and through the screen porch. He knew she was looking, because he could feel her eyes on his back. She didn't know he could do this, but she never asked, so he wasn't not telling the truth. There were other things Kenny could do he didn't tell anyone about.
He sometimes heard what his grandmother was thinking, but he never came out and told her he heard. He heard her say “Thank you, God. I'm sorry,” now. Kenny only played another verse. He looked in to his grandmother and smiled.
“It's gonna be alright, Grandma.”
“Do you think so?” she asked, smirking.
“I know so,” he said, jumping up on the stairs.
“You're so smart, Kenny. Why are you so smart?”
“I have a good teacher,” he said.
“Oh, Kenny, I never taught you to lie,” she said, laughing.
“But I'm not lying,” Kenny said. “I really mean it. I have a great...”Kenny flung out his arms for the word “great”...”teacher!”
Grandma sighed, and gazed at the child in amazement.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“You're too cute, that's why.”
“Ewe.”
“Hah.”
“Why are you laughing?”
“You're too funny.”
Then a shadow came over Kenny. And Kenny felt it. It was sleek and smooth. Kenny winced, and turned around. The sun was in his eyes a little. When he squinted, and blocked a little of the sun with his hand. He saw the face of his father.
“Could you play me a song, kid? I hear you're really good.”
“Grandma says I'm brilliant.”
“Grandma also said for you not to get too proud!” she said from within the house.
His father laughed. “She was always telling me that too, kid.”
“What do you want me to play?”
“What do you know? Mary Had a Little Lamb?”
“I know a lot of songs. I don't like kid songs. As me one.”
“Do you know Grandma's favorite?”
“I just played it.”
“How about your favorite?”
“I don't have a favorite.”
“No?”
“Nope.” Kenny shuffled his feet. “Grandma, can he come in?”
“Of course, bug, if you want him to.”
“What, you wouldn't invite your own son in, Ma?”
“Chase, don't start anything, please. Your boy is afraid of you.”
“What am I starting?” He shrugged. “And what does he have to be afraid of?”
“He knows, Chase.”
“Knows what?”
“You know what I'm talking about.”
“Enlighten me.”
“He knows you killed Darleen.”
“Why would you tell him that?”
“I didn't tell him, he said some man told him. He wouldn't tell me who. He already knew, I wasn't going to lie to him.”
“You could have tried not telling him any more! You know I didn't kill her.”
“No, I don't know that.”
“Ma, I told you. I told everybody! I went to Darleen's that day. She pulled a knife on me. I went home 'til about six-ish...then, I went back to break up with her. She freaked, I went home. The next thing I know, Jane is at my door, bloody, and screaming about the baby.”
“That story sounds too easy!”
“The truth is usually simple!” He was screaming now.
“Don't yell, please,” Kenny said, coming into the room.
“Sorry, kid.”
“He has a name you know,” Grandma said.
“Kenny,” Kenny said.
“Kenny, I'm your...”
“I know who you are.”
“Oh.”
There was a silence.
“I'm going to go play more,” Kenny said.
“Okay, darlin'.”
“He can stay for a while,” Kenny said. “He doesn't seem bad when he doesn't yell.”
Kenny skipped to the front door, and flung the screen open. He wanted to play a song. It wasn't his favorite, because he didn't have any favorites, but it was a really good one. It was one of the few church songs that took over your body as well as your voice and fingers. It was like a radio song, only better. Yes, he really liked playing his guitar.
“His Shadow For Life”
He didn't understand it, why he felt so good with a guitar sitting on his lap. It was smaller than adult guitars, naturally, but Kenny loved it. He liked sitting on the front steps of his house and strum it. Sometimes, people would walk by and ask him if he knew songs. Often the requests were for songs Kenny wasn't allowed to listen to. Songs on the radio. Kenny's grandmother told him it was music Satan put in the hearts of evil souls, and his Daddy was an evil.
Yes, ever since Daddy killed Mommy. Grandma didn't know Kenny knew about that. Some man had told him one day, when he was playing his guitar. The man also stopped and taught Kenny a song, it was a song he wasn't supposed to play. It must have come from the radio.
Kenny played a lot of church music on his guitar. After Mass on Sunday's Grandma sat in her rocking chair a listened to him play from the inside of the screened in porch, but he liked to sit on the stairs outside of the screens. He could see people better, and they could see him and ask for songs.
Grandma asked him to play certain songs a lot. He sang a little too, with his cute, high pitched tenor. Grandma wanted him to sing in the choir, but he wanted to play the guitar more than sing, and the choir director didn't like his guitar. Mr. Allen was his name. Mr. Allen told Kenny, if he wanted to play it in the choir, he would have to paint it. Kenny didn't like that idea very much, so he never got to sing in the choir.
So he played the Sunday selection when he came home from Mass. He always ended it with Grandma's favorite: “On Eagles Wings.” And she always cried when Kenny finished it.
“You have a sweet, innocent voice,” she said. “You remind me of you mother.”
“Am I going to live with Daddy, when he gets out of prison?”
“Kenny, it's up to you.” Grandma said. “I love you to pieces honey, but he has every right to take you when he gets out.”
“Someone told me...he killed Mommy.”
“Who told you that?”
“Someone.”
“You can tell me darlin'. Come here,” she put out her arms, and Kenny climbed onto her lap, leaving the guitar on the steps outside. “Do you believe it?”
Kenny nodded.
“It's true,” Grandma said. “Five years ago, on the night you were born.”
Kenny furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at his grandmother's cross necklace.
“Are you alright?”
He nodded.
“Are you telling me the truth?”
He shook his head.
“You don't have to go live with him if you don't want to.”
He shrugged and flipped the cross in his fingers.
“What's the matter, bug?”
“I dunno,” he said.
“Are you afraid?”
“I dunno.”
“You don't have to be afraid of your Daddy. He's a good man.”
“Why did he kill Mommy? Was she bad?”
“No, your Mommy was very good. I don't know if you'll understand this, but your Daddy was never convicted...that means it was never proven, that he killed her. But her family sued your Daddy, and he couldn't pay the money they were asking for. So he went to prison for five years. You know you're going to see your Daddy tomorrow, don't you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you excited?”
He shrugged.
“You know you can ask your Daddy whatever you want. Don't you?”
“Yes.”
“Good, because that's what I taught you. Always ask questions.”
“Do you think Daddy killed Mommy?”
“Well, that's a difficult question, Kenny. You know I always tell you to tell the truth, but I don't know if I can tell you...”
“You can tell me,” Kenny met his eyes with her.
“Oh, you little angel,” Grandma said, pinching Kenny's cheeks. “You can pull anything out of me. You look so much like your father...but every time I look into your eyes, I see your mother...the eyes of a cherub, staring down at me.”
Kenny looked down and played with the cross again.
“I really don't know. You father says he didn't, but I'm not sure.”
“Didn't you teach him to always tell the truth, like me?”
Grandma's eyebrows became wide, crinkled S's. “I thought I did.”
“Can he stay hear for a while?”
“Would you like him to?”
“I want to see if I like him before I stay with him. If he's nice when he's here, then I can see if he good or bad. I could tell you Grandma.”
She smiled down on her grandson. “You marvelous cherub of God. You're smart. God has blessed you with a mind greater than your age.”
“You're talking funny, Grandma.”
“What do you mean, bug?”
“You told me to tell you when you were talking funny.” Kenny said, sliding down from her lap. “You also told me you might forget telling me.”
“No, I didn't forget, darlin'. I was just hoping you were joking.”
“Why would I joke?”
“You're asking too many questions, please.”
“I'm sorry.”
Grandma got up from her chair, and went into the house. Kenny turned back to his guitar outside, and went to it. He sat on the steps, and was quiet for a minute. Then he heard her, his grandmother was crying. His mother's parents didn't want him. He remembered hearing that, one day, his grandmother said it over the phone to one of her friends. Daddy was his only option. Grandma was getting sick. She couldn't remember things, sometimes. And she talked funny sometimes too.
He picked up his guitar, and positioned his tiny fingers on them. He strung the first chords to Grandma's favorite church song. She looked out the window and through the screen porch. He knew she was looking, because he could feel her eyes on his back. She didn't know he could do this, but she never asked, so he wasn't not telling the truth. There were other things Kenny could do he didn't tell anyone about.
He sometimes heard what his grandmother was thinking, but he never came out and told her he heard. He heard her say “Thank you, God. I'm sorry,” now. Kenny only played another verse. He looked in to his grandmother and smiled.
“It's gonna be alright, Grandma.”
“Do you think so?” she asked, smirking.
“I know so,” he said, jumping up on the stairs.
“You're so smart, Kenny. Why are you so smart?”
“I have a good teacher,” he said.
“Oh, Kenny, I never taught you to lie,” she said, laughing.
“But I'm not lying,” Kenny said. “I really mean it. I have a great...”Kenny flung out his arms for the word “great”...”teacher!”
Grandma sighed, and gazed at the child in amazement.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“You're too cute, that's why.”
“Ewe.”
“Hah.”
“Why are you laughing?”
“You're too funny.”
Then a shadow came over Kenny. And Kenny felt it. It was sleek and smooth. Kenny winced, and turned around. The sun was in his eyes a little. When he squinted, and blocked a little of the sun with his hand. He saw the face of his father.
“Could you play me a song, kid? I hear you're really good.”
“Grandma says I'm brilliant.”
“Grandma also said for you not to get too proud!” she said from within the house.
His father laughed. “She was always telling me that too, kid.”
“What do you want me to play?”
“What do you know? Mary Had a Little Lamb?”
“I know a lot of songs. I don't like kid songs. As me one.”
“Do you know Grandma's favorite?”
“I just played it.”
“How about your favorite?”
“I don't have a favorite.”
“No?”
“Nope.” Kenny shuffled his feet. “Grandma, can he come in?”
“Of course, bug, if you want him to.”
“What, you wouldn't invite your own son in, Ma?”
“Chase, don't start anything, please. Your boy is afraid of you.”
“What am I starting?” He shrugged. “And what does he have to be afraid of?”
“He knows, Chase.”
“Knows what?”
“You know what I'm talking about.”
“Enlighten me.”
“He knows you killed Darleen.”
“Why would you tell him that?”
“I didn't tell him, he said some man told him. He wouldn't tell me who. He already knew, I wasn't going to lie to him.”
“You could have tried not telling him any more! You know I didn't kill her.”
“No, I don't know that.”
“Ma, I told you. I told everybody! I went to Darleen's that day. She pulled a knife on me. I went home 'til about six-ish...then, I went back to break up with her. She freaked, I went home. The next thing I know, Jane is at my door, bloody, and screaming about the baby.”
“That story sounds too easy!”
“The truth is usually simple!” He was screaming now.
“Don't yell, please,” Kenny said, coming into the room.
“Sorry, kid.”
“He has a name you know,” Grandma said.
“Kenny,” Kenny said.
“Kenny, I'm your...”
“I know who you are.”
“Oh.”
There was a silence.
“I'm going to go play more,” Kenny said.
“Okay, darlin'.”
“He can stay for a while,” Kenny said. “He doesn't seem bad when he doesn't yell.”
Kenny skipped to the front door, and flung the screen open. He wanted to play a song. It wasn't his favorite, because he didn't have any favorites, but it was a really good one. It was one of the few church songs that took over your body as well as your voice and fingers. It was like a radio song, only better. Yes, he really liked playing his guitar.