The lost reunion

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is something i wrote when i was sitting in my church watching the rain fall. The room is actually a real room, where i hide out when i dont feel like sitting through mass.

This story is about a girl who is thinking. and it shows you whats going on in her head, as well as the present. I hope you like it.

Submitted: June 19, 2011

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Submitted: June 19, 2011

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AUTHORS NOTE: I hope you enjoy this piece, and if you like this, read "Her Armaggedon" < ---This story is a lot more emotional since it is true

I really hope you all like this :) Im proud of this piece.

The room was dark, and gloomy. A single, rusty, piano stood next to the door, leading out into the church. The room was painted a sad brown color. The paint was chipped, cracked, and growing slightly moldy. Walking into the room, the wall on the left was covered with shelves of bibles and books about god. The books had a thin line of dust on them, and mildew was growing within some of the books. The right wall had stacks of old children movies-videos, not DVDs. The plastic covers were worn, and peeling. The carpet was an odd sort of bluish greenish color. The stains were noticeable, it clashed against the color. In the middle of the room (it was pretty big) was an oak table, with matching oak chairs. The wall opposite to the door wasn’t a wall at all. It was a giant window, with heavy brown curtains covering it.
An ugly turquoise chair was placed right next to the giant window. A teenage girl was draped over the chair, looking out the window through the curtains. Tears ran down her beautiful face, dripping down and landing on her light blue dress. She was a pretty thing, but too many sleepless nights have taken their toll. Bags were under her once, smiling eyes.  A thick tumble or red curls ran down her back, and framed her face quite nicely. Again, she would have been pretty, if her youth hadn’t have been robbed from her.
She stared out the window, wondering when her life started going downhill. She met him when she had just turned 15. He was a young man, 18, that had big dreams of going into the army, while she had dreams of living in a small town for the rest of her life. He was a gentlemen, she mused to herself with a bitter smile. With his thick blond hair and stunning green eyes, she fell so hard for him. By the time she found out she was pregnant, he was already drafted to go to war.
New tears threatened the teenage girls face, they gathered at the corners of her eyes. She lifted her small, pale, legs and wrapped her arms around them for comfort.
She was all alone now. She had been raised in the church, with all the strict policies that went with it. They had repeatedly taught her that sex before marriage was definitely looked down upon; even more so having a child before being wed. She grew up with these people at the church-they were her family. It was a tight community; a few years ago she would have sneered with the others about a girl her age being pregnant. Her friends and she would have laughed at the thought of one of them ever being in one of those situations. But here she was.
The people in the church always talked about everyone, no matter who they were. It was something that couldn’t be stopped. Wasn’t gossip a sin? The teenage girl laughed out loud at the silly question. Of course gossip was a sin. For a church that prided themselves on their spectacular non sinning ways, they sinned just about as much as –gasp- normal people.
The thought comforted the teenage girl, as she began to wipe her eyes. No one was perfect. Her friends have gotten into trouble with boys before, hadn’t they? The teenage girl laid her head against the window, looking out at the trees. She was still in a fetal position, but her tears were gone. The window was hot against her head, for it was a beautiful summer’s day. 
She remembers when she and he found this room. The room was at the end of the huge church, it seemed no one had been in it for more than a decade. They found a pair of spectacles, he put them on his face, and it magnified his green eyes twenty times. She laughed so much that day, her and her love. He danced around the table and picked up one of the bibles. She watched him with an amused expression, she remembered. He read out a few versus, but then threw the book aside and kissed her nose. He was sweet that way. The teenage girl smiled to herself. Her memories were about as good as gold now that he was gone.
He promised her so many things. He promised them a life together for when he got home. When he found out that there baby was a girl, he practically beamed with pride.
He never had a good home life. He would tell her horror stories of his life back in Minnesota. About the abuse, the yelling, the hurt. But she was there for him, she was always there. He would tell her fun stories too, though. About him living on the farm before his parents got divorced and lost everything. He would talk about the animals that he would ride. His plan for them was to move to Washington, and have a little house, with light blue shutters and the smell of pie sweeping through the kitchen.
 They dreamed together. In this dirty room, they would lie next to each other and look out the window. She would pray to herself that he would be here forever. She gave him all of her, all of her secrets; her secrets hidden under her clothes, in her mind.
When he was drafted to go to war, she had just found out she was pregnant. When he left, she had to face all the ridicule and torment all by herself. For nine months she shut herself in her small room, only going out to eat. She could turn to no one since her parents had abandoned her in a sense. They wouldn’t look her in the eye for a long time, and spoke about her like she was not even there. She blamed the baby.
The teenage girl looked out the window and saw it was starting to rain. The droplets pattered against the window. She put her cheek against it and imagined the rain dancing along her skin. The window was still hot, and it somewhat burned her cheek, but the vibration of the window from the water made it soothing. She closed her eyes and decided that she was going to pray one last time.
“God, if you are listening, please give me a sign that everything will be okay. I don’t want to hurt anymore. Give me happiness, please, God. Give me a reason to wake up every morning.”  She started to cry again, and cupped her hands over her face. Then she heard the door open.
A small toddler pushed her way through. She was tiny, with curly blond hair in pigtails, and deep blue eyes. She swayed back and forth as she grabbed hold of the rusty piano to steady herself. The little girl then trotted to where the teenage girl sat, and looked at her with worried eyes.
“Mama, why are you crying?”
The teenage girl brushed away the tears, reached out her arms, and waited for the little girl to crawl on her lap.
“I don’t know why I’m crying; I guess I’m being silly aren’t I?”
“No mama, you’re not silly. Look outside, mama. The world is crying to. Is that why you’re sad?”
“No dear, that’s not why I’m sad.”
The mother started crying again, but her daughter reached out her tiny little fingers and put them over her mothers’ eyes. The little girl ran her fingers along her mothers’ face, tracing the outline of her lips, palming the dents of the teenage girl’s eyes.
The little girl sat there in wonder. She had never been allowed to touch her before. Her mother would always tell her to leave, when she wanted to play. This was an extra special treat, but the toddler was afraid somehow, she would ruin it, so she withdrew her small hands.
The teenage girl looked into her child’s eyes-her eyes. She kissed the little girls nose, as her lover had once done for her.
“How much do you love me?” The little girl innocently asked. She had always wanted to know if her mom had ever loved her.
The mother took a closer look at her child. She was quite shocked at the question, more so that she didn’t know the answer. How much did she love her daughter? She looked down deep inside her, and she thought about her prayer to god. She wondered if this was Gods’ answer. Maybe her child would be the reason she would wake every morning. Had God just sent her a reason to live?
“I love you… To the moon and back.” The mother said, smiling as her child’s face slowly began to light up.
“That’s so far away mommy, well, then I love you... this much!” Her child stretched her hands out as far as they could go (which was a huge length when you’re so young).
The mother and daughter snuggled together for a very long time. The mother told her little girl stories about farms and animal ridings. She told her little girl secrets that she had never told anyone else but her lover. She bounced her baby on her lap as she sang to her.
All too soon, her baby said she had to leave. “Mama, I have to get something for you. I found it in your mail slot.”
She watched her little girl step back into church. She didn’t know how long she had wasted in this room. Probably more than five hours, she mused. Today was supposed to be her first day back after a very long time. But when she got there, all the looks and sideway glances were too much for her to take so she took cover in her room.
For once she couldn’t wait for her little girl to come back and snuggle with her. The room began to become really chilly again.
After too long, her little girl came back with an envelope in her hand.
My Dearest,
I will be coming back in a few weeks and I’m sorry I haven’t written to you for so long. I know you thought I was dead-everyone did. I was mistaken for Albert Crop. We got bombed, and there was so much confusion, that identities were lost, and people were mistaken for other people. I had a concussion for a few months, so they sailed me back to America to get better. My nose got hit pretty badly, so they had to bandage me up, also the ash got stuck to my skin. When I woke up and they called me Albert, I was completely shocked! Albert was an obnoxious idiot-seemed like he had no brains, my dear, so you would understand how I got offended. How is our baby? She should be about three now, if I’m correct. Give her my love for me, and I will see her when I get home.
I cannot wait to see you, dear. And hopefully we can have that wedding you always dreamed of and move to Washington like we planned.
I love you
Daniel Jay Smith
 
 
She gently folded the note, and tucked it inside her bosom, right next to her heart. She reached for her little girl, but her baby wasn’t there. She looked behind her, and saw that her baby was staring out the window with a smile on her face, cheeks rosy red with joy.
“What are you looking at, child?” she asked.
“Look mommy, daddy has flowers for you.”
She turned her face to look out the window once again. There sat a man drenched, with blond hair, vibrant green eyes, and a crooked nose. He had a goofy wide grin on his face as he watched her every expression.
He had been staring at her read, and re read his letter for quite some time now. She was still as beautiful as when he had first saw her, maybe even more so since she had developed. Now that she was 19, she filled out her dress nicely. She was shocked.
They looked into each other’s eyes and remained there. He then broke contact and waved at his little girl. He had wanted to hold her for so long.
In no time at all, he ran into the church, passed all the gasping adults, and ran into the room. Their room. Now his family’s room. The family hugged and reunited at last.
 
No one noticed it stopped raining.


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