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apettiger -> the pretty little harp (8/30/2007 12:15:04 PM)
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crouchingtigress posted a story on another thread so i thought i would post one of my own. it had not occured to me to post it on this board and i would like to thank crouchingtigress for the idea.
here it is:
Once upon a time there was a well made, lovely sounding, pretty little harp, made out of red gold and mother-of-pearl, that had been dumped on the side of a road. She sat there for quite some time, people would pass her and some would stare, some would stop to stroke her and a few even tried to play her, but when they realized she was unplayable, they got angry and kicked and beat on the little harp, they even broke some of her strings. Some thought they would like to take her home with them, but the little harp had been sitting on the side of the road for so long that she had sunk into the ground, and they were unable to budge her. The little harp didn’t think much of the people and didn’t understand why they wouldn’t leave her alone so she could quietly watch the world go by. She never bothered anyone, she just sat there. She felt it was her destiny to sit on the side of that particular road forever. She also believed that she had been made with a defect that prevented her from being played. So she wished, ( and didn’t wish ) that the people would stop trying, especially now that she had snapped strings, and was broken and dented. Then, one day, a Man came walking down the road and noticed the harp. She saw this and recognized that He would attempt to play her, and, like she had done when any had tried, she hoped He was the One who would be able to evoke the beautiful sounds she had always dreamed of making, but experience had taught her that she should expect more damage when He found out no one could play her and that she was useless as an instrument. The Man walked around the little harp, looking her over and rubbing His chin. He picked up the broken ends of one of her snapped strings and she was afraid He would yank it out , but He gently replaced it. He turned and went to a shed where He found what He needed to build an enclosure around her, so no one could get to her. When He had finished it, He went away, without having ever actually touched her. He returned the next morning with a long board and, after digging a hole under the heaviest part of the little harp, He inserted the board and began prying on it until the little harp popped out of the ground with a heartfelt, gut wrenching scream. You see, she had been in the ground, where she could feel nothing, for so long that when the air touched her, it was painful. The Man pick the little harp up and took her home with Him. He insisted on keeping her in the workshop, where He cleaned the dirt and mud from her until she shone. One day He came into the shop and told the little harp that He knew what He was going to do would upset and frighten her, but it had to be done if she were ever to make the wonderful music she was created for. He then removed all of her strings, and the little harp could only weep at their loss. But, He replaced them with new, stronger ones. He removed all of her beautiful mother-of-pearl and placed it carefully in a safe place, then He got a large hammer and began to pound out all of her dents. It was painful and frightening, the little harp didn’t think she would survive it. It was much worse than what had been done to her on the side of the road. The next day the Man came in with some polish and a soft cloth. He began to rub the little harp, softly and steadily, until she glimmered in the light. He replaced her mother-of-pearl and tuned her strings. The Man smiled and lovingly stroked His pretty little harp, turned out the light and left. The little harp was confused. No one had even tried to clean and repair her, no one had ever cared enough. And her Man had not “tried” He had actually done it. And, she had to admit, she felt better than she had since before she was dumped on the road, so long ago. Later, the Man took the little harp from the workshop into the house, and put her in a beautiful room with many windows and a wooded view. He sat on a stool, pulled the little harp between His legs and ran His fingers over her strings. His actions woke every part of the pretty little harp and she thrummed, breathless. The Man smiled and plucked a couple of chords, and she giggled. Hours went by while the Man, softly and slowly, then aggressively and almost angrily, expertly played the little harp. When He had gone to sleep, the pretty little harp sat in the beautiful room, feeling whole and complete and realized that the only One who could play her had finally found her and taken her home. apettiger Feb. 4th, 2006
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