Guiness

ok, since my last post i couldn't stop thinking about beer, and with my fever gone I bought an eight pack of guiness, and what a great time I have had!! see I chose guiness because it is natural and should help with the healing process, its not chemical like all the other beers. Anyway my alcoholic muse has again returned so I will will write a story.

Empty Beginnings

‘All I can do is be well for you, all I can do is help you see,’ she sung. Making up the words while walking the through the cavernous hallway. ‘My little baby, she cries sometimes, my little baby, he laughs sometimes.’ The melody borrowed from an Elvis Presley song, she didn’t know the name, but it gave her structure. ‘Don’t cry and I’ll help you tonight, or cry if you want, and I’ll help you tonight.’
Walking into the spacious office, she marched in as a captured soldier—with a blindfold and noose. It was a battle she wouldn’t win.
‘Take a seat,’ the elderly woman was curt. Her countenance was of brutality and disdain. Her thick black rimmed glasses were propped on a crooked beak, and the dust particles moved by her breath, pushed through the bright sunlight with a thin line back to a solitary window. ‘I don’t understand your lassitude?’ She was fingering a pile of papers—important papers that held the key to the young girls future. Facts and rumours printed with no eraser. ‘You will not pass your diploma. You are aware that this means you will not graduate, are you not?’
The girl caught her looking at her stomach. Word had spread through the holidays that she was to keep to the child, but she was unaware that it had spread to the faculty. ‘Yes, ma’am, I understand.’
‘I think that perhaps you should consider changing schools,’ her old voice had a rumble. She spoke with a permanent cold. ‘Perhaps Laherty would be more accommodating to your situation.’
A glass pane of several generations separated the two women. It was bulletproof, and not willing to shatter.
The elder of the pair continued. ‘I have been in this situation before, I have seen girls with a moderate potential—like yourself, who have had to make the decision not to follow the rigorous path which we set. I am aware of Tony, and for that I am sorry. He was an honourable man and for that you should be proud; his passing carries with it a nobility that must burden you,’ her voice was sanctimonious, and she sat in a leather chair surrounded with photos of living children and grandchildren. Smiling faces framed her ugly face and grey eyes. ‘He was a patriot and a hero, and you have his moment of glory forever.’
It was hard for the young girl to even pretend to be listening.
‘You have not achieved according to our standards, but don’t be ashamed, you have contributed. We all must contribute.’ She slipped the papers into a black folder, a symbolic death.
The young girl stood. ‘My little baby, she cries sometimes, my little baby, he laughs sometimes.’
‘Please don’t make light of the situation miss Hellings.’
The mahogany desk squealed as the young girl slammed her fist down hard. It was bloodied, and pieces of glass sliced through her skin. The glass sprayed her eyes, and she ducked and screamed. Yelling her next words. ‘It is not a glorious death, it was muddy and disgusting. There he lies dying in the street, with bloodied hands and deaf ears. He couldn’t even feel the third bullet. All alone, and I’m here and I’m told this news, and you expect me to pass! Don’t you tell me about contribution, don’t you even start. His moment, is my moment. His disgusting death is mine. He was lying in that empty street alone and for twenty three minutes for me, not you.' Her voice ascended, climbing a peak to a screech. 'Not for anyone else. And you can re enroll me for next semester because I’m having my child, and I’m not leaving.’
The old woman ran a finger across her top lip, in the now all but empty room. A youthful reminder had just stormed out. She looked at a photo of her youngest grandson and with a nod of her head, thought of him safe at home.