Music Box Dreamer

A rocking chair that had seen better days, powered by the thin legs of an old white haired lady squeaked back and forth. Back and forth, back and forth the chair went, in a sparse, stark, dingy room. She half slept, half dreamed and half listened to the raindrops dancing on the cracked and filthy windowpane. A solitary window, a window that was her only view to a world she had retreated from a long time ago.
She reached out with her aged worn, care worn right hand and lifted the lid on the antique music box resting on the table beside her. Two little porcelain dancers popped up as the lid was lifted. The clothes of the pair were stained by the hand of time. The small, delicate faces had little pieces chipped out of them and their once rose pink cheeks were faded into dullness.
It took all the strength of her frail, bony fingers to turn the wind up key but at last it was fully wound. When it was done the beautiful strains of the Vienna Waltz filled the small living space and seeped into every crack and crevasse. A few of the more unruly notes slipped out underneath the door and down the hall.
As she surrendered to the magic of the music her bright blue eyes were filled with the large picture beside the music box.
The young man looked proud in his crisp new uniform. He had every reason to be because not only was he going to be fighting for King and country but this was his wedding day. The blushing young bride wore a dress of white silk and red slippers adorned two dainty feet. A single red rose was in her sun coloured hair.
The old woman closed her eyes and let the music transport her back to another time. Back, back through the pages of many years, to a better time. Back, far back through the mists of an ever fading memory to a different place. A place where a new love was born, burned as a bright flame and then died in the hell, the horror of war.
For one more sweet time she felt Tommy’s strong arms around her slender body. For one more sweet moment of time she felt the heat of his body, felt the pounding of his heart through his shirt. She felt it through his suit coat, through her wedding dress, through her brazier. She felt all of the goodness, all of the excitement pressed tight against her rising nipples.


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Filed under fiction, Literature, Short Story

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