Poetry and Short Stories

The Gazebo

Creak...
Creak...
Creak...

The old swing moved slowly back and forth, propelled by the wind. The rusty hinges that held it fast to the beams protested at the unfamiliar activity.

Creak.

The swing hung in what was once a lovely Gazebo, covered with climbing roses. Perhaps it's color had been white or maybe a soft yellow. Now the paint had flaked away, leaving the wood exposed to the weather. Now the roses were dead, their brittle brown vines woven among the lattice work up one side.

Creak.

The old Gazebo shivered with each small breath of wind, its timbers frail and rotting. Time had demanded payment and it had reluctantly given forth.

Creak.

Memories of days gone past swirled ghost-like across the Gazebo's floor. A young man with laughing eyes and his new bride snuggled next to him. Their happy chatter, loving caresses, hopeful planning.

Creak.

The ghosts danced, shifted, morphed and flowed. A new mother sat in the swing, singing softly to the bundle in her arms. Her face was alight with joy and the sun streaming through the roses. The scent of spring drifted through the air and life was good.

Creak.

Children ran laughing in the sunshine, playing hide and seek behind the lattice-work, peeking through the roses which covered the lattice-work. A boy with thick dark curls. His younger sister, her hair in braids hanging past her shoulders. Stifling giggles behind dirty hands, they crept around the Gazebo and surprised each other on the opposite side. Dashing away, they vanished into an old shed.

Creak.

A young man of sixteen sat in the swing, his feet brushing the worn boards of the Gazebo floor.

"I'm sorry," a woman's soft voice said as someone joined him. "I'm truly sorry. The doctor tried but there was just nothing he could do." The young man lifted his head, tears streaming down his face and gazed into the eyes of an older woman. He took a shaky breath, then shrugged. "Your sister needs you," the woman said, her voice betraying the emotion that threatened to spill out. "She's having a very hard time with this." The young man nodded and wiped his cheeks, then stood. "The funeral will be day after tomorrow," the woman told him and escorted him from the Gazebo.

"What's going to happen to us?" The young man voice broke in mid-sentence.

"You'll be coming to live with me," the woman replied as they walked away. "Your sister will be staying with Aunt Margaret. Things will be alright, you'll see."

Creak.

Clouds covered the sky and rain drizzled down upon the landscape. A small group of black-clad people stood under wide umbrellas. Words too faint to reach the swing floated into the air and drifted away. The crowd drew aside and stood waiting as pall-bearers lifted two caskets by gleaming silver handles. They set them gently on to twin hoists over a large, yawning hole and stepped back. Slowly the caskets were lowered into the ground and disappeared from view. The crowd of people milled around for several minutes, hugging each other and tossing flowers into the hole, then wandered into the big house. The swing hung motionless in the Gazebo, drops of rain running down it's chains.

Creak...

The sun shone on the old Gazebo and time seemed to stand still. The wind sighed, then died away. The clouds hung motionless in the sky above. The world held its breath and waited.

Hesitant footsteps sounded on the old floorboards.

"It's still here," a soft voice murmured. "It's still standing."

"Of course it's still here," a second voice said. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I thought it might have fallen down. It's been so long."

"It's still here. And now we're here too. Just like old times."

"I missed you." An elderly woman sat gingerly on the ancient swing.

"I missed you, too." An elderly man took a seat beside her.

"I looked for you." The woman turned to look up into his eyes. "I looked everywhere."

"It's over now." The man dropped one arm over her shoulder. "You've found me and we're together again. We'll be together always."

"Promise me?" The woman gazed into his face. "Promise me you'll never leave me."

"You have my promise, sister," the man said and smiled into her eyes. "I will always be at your side." She returned his smile and rested her head on his shoulder. The old man gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, then held her close. He closed his eyes and tears trickled down his cheeks.

The world relaxed. The sun shone with a gentle warmth, spilling happiness down into the Gazebo. The breeze tickled their noses and brought back memories of days gone by. The air was filled with the sounds of birds and over-head the clouds began to drift through an azure sky. In the old Gazebo, two hearts healed at last. Brother and Sister put their arms around one another and faded away, forever.

Creak...

Creak...

Creak...

(published in Bewildering Stories Issue #235. Included in Bewildering Stories First Quarter 2007 Anthology)