The Playground

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

A short story of the early life of a growing up boy playing and learning amongst the dead.

 

The Playground

 

 

It was a place where went to play alone whenever his parents let him. It was in the cemetery outside the village where his uncles were laid to rest. He had promised them he would come to visit them, talk to them and even play ball amongst them.

 

He was just eight years old.

 

It was a very old cemetery with carved out and ornately designed tombstones made of very heavy stone. There was grass growing all around and trees lined the edge of it.

 

He was studying at the local school and had few friends to play with. But he liked being alone with his thoughts thinking of what had been taught to them in the day at the school. He liked to play ball amongst the tombstones and tell his uncles what he had learnt at the school. He had learnt from them the art of logic, reasoning, memorising etc. He would be in his thoughts reconstructing the teaching in his mind to suit him better and make it easy to understand and remember.

 

This, he would go to each grave and practise, the art which they had taught him. He spoke to himself and to them, applied logic and reasoning to the facts and reconstructed everything to have a better and sensible meaning to understand. This he did for every art of learning which he had been taught. He practised, played and made for himself lessons by his own re-constructs which he would find easy to use and apply for ever.

 

He would be much sought after for his clarity of fundamentals on the subjects especially by the girls to explain the topics to them. They would wonder how he did it. He would not disclose. Instead he would reply he just played around thinking about it.

 

He did not tell anyone of his secret playground and how he played there.

 

He would fare extremely well in his exams and come out with flying colours. He had made his own secret understanding of the term ‘flying colours'. Literally it meant to him to give him the colours that would make him fly and to fly is man's one of the most ambitious dreams. It was to achieve these colours and achieve he did. All alone, playing, talking, and practising by himself, amongst the graves of the dead.

 

He liked experimenting and trying things out. He would appreciate the beauty of nature and would not happily like nature to be exploited for ones selfish purposes. He would be pained at the trees being cut and removed even for reasons such as for houses and dwellings for the people to be built to live in.

 

He was very sensitive by nature.

 

He tried being as gentle as possible with nature. He would be disturbed at thoughts of people struggling to work and think, as he found the entire peace and ambience disturbed in the process. To struggle was not a healthy sign for him to follow. It meant rules were being broken and wilfully wrong and inappropriate methods were being adopted to achieve the end results.

 

He believed in the process and means of achieving objectives. He had learnt the art of achieving these aims in harmony with nature.

 

All that he believed in, was the requirement to bring an equilibrium between the set objectives and means in nature through proper art of logic and reasoning and results would follow themselves.

 

He was alone with his thoughts of these kinds in the community. He respected the literal meanings of the terms and phrases to show him the way. His skill was in using the given statements, to accept them as nature's truth and to prove them right. He had achieved these in his life upto now, even in his exams.

 

He used to be disturbed on seeing people take shortcuts. Shortcuts he was painfully aware of as being opposed to nature which he strongly believed in. He would watch people straining, raising voices, arguing etc. on matters of work.

 

He was told these formed the scientific ways of functioning which he did not agree with, as scientific ways were not to encourage build up of tension, pump up blood pressure etc. His ways of nature was completely in opposite. It was to be calm, to be serene, to accept the harmony of everything with a purpose and by proper logic and reasoning arrive at the results, which he believed to be the right way of life.

 

The world was changing. He was also to move ahead. Days were getting shorter; there was little time to be left for play and thoughts about nature. He was not worried. He had learnt not to. He would take care of himself and nature would be with him in ways.  He would make a way out for himself in this world he resolved, as he looked towards his playground, out of the window one morning.


Submitted: August 25, 2007

© Copyright 2021 Feryn Tide. All rights reserved.

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Comments

cartera

Very well written short story. Good story and good in every part of its construction.
Surely you have hd stuff published before?

Wed, March 12th, 2008 11:51pm

cartera

Very well written short story. Good story and good in every part of its construction.
Surely you have had stuff published before?

Wed, March 12th, 2008 11:51pm

Author
Reply

Hi,

Thank you for your comment.
This is just one of my first attempts.

Best Regards,

Feryn Tide

Thu, March 13th, 2008 4:28am

cartera

Fri, March 14th, 2008 7:24pm

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