Lady of the Porch

[Previsionary]

Haven't posted a story here in awhile. Anyway, I had some creativity left over and decided to write something new just to get it out of my system. So, here ya go:

You could say anything in the world to her and she wouldn't mind. She'd just sit there, listening, casually observing the way you spoke and pronounced the smallest words. Her smile would light up a forest in a frenzy of flames and all this she could do without speaking a word. She'd just sit in her chair grinning the day away.

Her eyes would gleam and glimmer as the sun sat overheard. Her old pale yellow teeth would reflect upon you with all the resemblance of a near dead flashlight, but you would never remove your eyes from her. A piece of food could dangle from her nose and your eyes would continue to be affixed upon her unmoving soul. Amazed and confused that such a creature could exist and not disgust or even put the smallest amount of hatred in the chambers of your heart. You'd just stare and be attracted to the atmosphere that she maintained on her old wooden stoop. She'd keep you entertained with old stories she never spoke. Hooked on every unspoken word as if it was her last and someone would take her before the tale was done. You mustn't have that. You mustn't. Just sit there and pay attention. Your eyes won't leave her gaze.

Even when the rain came, you'd sit beside her just staring at the scenery before you. You'd look up at her kindly, realize her crooked smile, and show no ill will towards her at all. You'd just stare and be thankful she was always there. She was always reliable and you knew you would see her every day. No one would take her away. No one, no, not even the spirit of Death. She'd always remain in that old creaky chair just rocking away to the sound of nature as if nothing else mattered in the world and the only thing keeping her going was life itself. You couldn't explain it; you never thought about it.

Some days you'd come over with a basket of food and eat it while you reflected on life. She gave the best advice. She made everything seem so simple. She could put things in perspective without even being deep. A simple blink or an odd cough would be all you needed to hear and you loved her for it. You loved her for being her. That's all that mattered. She was your rock. Sometimes she was your mountain to hide behind. She was always something positive to you. She was a part of you that you hoped never to lose.

When the neighbors talked about her and her odd smell, you'd laugh and explain to them her stories. What her life was and wasn't and why she no longer cared for humanly expression. You'd tell them everything and shame them for not being open to new things. You'd show them the scar you got when you fell off her top stair and the bandage she gave you that you kept tucked away in a small baggy in the back of your jeans. They'd laugh and mock you, but you'd be satisfied telling anyone of your experience with her whether they be idiots or believers.

The day you found her gone, tears remained in your eyes whether you asked for them or not. Always there reminding you of what was missing. That some part of you was no longer being entertained like it used to be. You could hear it in your heart. It wanted her back. It wanted to be happy.

When you learned that she had walked away, you smiled. She was tired. She wanted to experience something new. You wouldn't hold her back, but you'd visit that old stoop until it was torn down. She was a little old lady, barely two hundred years of age. She'd seen and heard some amazing things. She was a constant of the small rural town and everyone had known her. Some suspected she had died upon her chair, but none spoke to her as you did. You bonded with her. You knew better than to believe rumors or folk gossip. In your heart, you could still feel her. Thoughts of the pale yellow teeth and the long crooked nose flooded your memory. The large wart that ate the right side of her face and distracted from her balding head lay fresh in your mind. The dry wheezes she'd make when she wanted you to go home. You'd remember it all...even if she didn't want you to. You'd be a constant friend to her, whether she needed it or not. That's just the way it was. You were made for it. It's in your programming.

[chuckles]

That's a really neat story Prem. I like it. Well done sir.  :thumbup: