Whispers In My Ear ©

Chapter One

When stories are not stories at all but lives that was once lived.

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Chapter One

My soul hummed the tone that had changed my life all those years ago.

"Grandma, Grandma!"

"Yes little angel?" I replied warmly, moving a grey strand with a wrinkled hand.

"Can you tell us the story again?" My granddaughter grinned excitedly, hoping like a rabbit up and down.

My other grandchildren surrounded her.

"I don't know," I laughed "Your grandma is an old bat. Don't you little kiddos ever get tired of listening to grandma's stories?"

I looked at all of my grandchildren, their smiling faces and gleaming eyes always brightened my day. They resembled my own kids in their own way. Even slightly like me when I was younger.

"Please grandma please!" They all begged. "We love your stories!"

Chuckling, "Alright. Everyone go into the living room."

They all sang their excitement in union, scrambling out of the kitchen. Drying my hands from the dish water in the sink on a hand towel, I limped into the living room. My grandchildren loved to hear my stories.

Used to tell the same to my own children as they grew older. But to me it wasn't just a fairytale, it was a life. I of course downgraded the horrific parts, they were children after all. They didn't need to know about the evil in this world just yet.

"Is everyone comfortable?"

"Yes!" They giggled, sitting on their rear ends with knees crossed on the carpet in front of my seat.

Sitting down in my rocking chair, gathering my knitting supplies and putting my glasses on. I had argued with my husband before he bought the chair years ago. My loving husband had simply smiled sheepishly at me when I had protest. Swatting more grey hair from my eyes as I got comfortable.

"Many years ago," I began and moved to start knitting, "they was a girl with long silky dark brown hair. Her eyes the most brown, like chocolate. She was driven and passionate. She carried a pencil and note book everywhere she went, to write down anything that inspired her."

The world dissolved around the old woman and her grandchildren. Going into the life of the young woman.

"The winds are whispering in the silence, their stares says it all." I sang and strum the strings on my guitar.

I finished my song, writing down the notes and lyrics. My puppy barked and growled at me. The cute little thing was like my child.

"What is it boy?" I looked down at him.

He spun in a circle and stuck his tongue out, signaling he was thirsty. He gave me his best puppy eyes, which of course was spot on since he was a puppy after all.  Placing my notebook and pen down on my end table. I filled his bowl with water and grabbed my own bottle of liquid. My phone chinned gathering all my attention.

Hey little lady! Got a sight seer in stock now at the usual. You want in on the books? My friend texted.

I quickly responded yes!  Then hit send. Quickly grabbing my equipment and stuffed it into the trunk of my car. Before I made it up the stairs to get ready, my house line phone began to ring.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Darling are you coming for dinner tonight?" My mothers voice screeched.

She always knew how to interrupt me while having something planned.

Replying, "Not tonight, I have plans."

"Oh? What plans are those?" She asked in a disapproved tone yet curious.

I could mentally see her frown and furrowed brows.

Groaning, "I don't have time to talk, I have to get ready."

"Fine fine." You could hear the annoyance in her voice loudly.

"Bye."

Quickly ending the call. My mother was never really a mother. She abandoned me when I was a young child, around the age of six. Dating men so frequent together, I never bothered to learn their names. I always called them her toys.

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