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| Stephen's Story |
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| By Christopher P Bartlett |
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| One Their bodies lingered in celebration of their union. Softly he caressed her hair, mixed fragrances emanated from its dampened touch. Her eyes met his, and in that moment, he felt truly happy, his life made sense, and there was nothing in his heart but euphoria. As his hands wandered across her lithe body, guided by the love in his heart, she murmured gently. At first it was nearly inaudible, he leaned his head closer to hers, striving to hear her whisperings. “My love…” It was a sound carried on the night air, twisting in circles around his head, enveloping his senses until all he knew was her. He brought her face to his, and found himself lost in her eyes, held in awe by their beautiful perfection. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound left his lips, only a deathly silence. Again he tried, but only heard the words in his mind; they remained unspoken. He closed his eyes briefly, but when he looked again, she was gone. He sat up quickly, the bedclothes falling around him before he threw them off. He looked around the room, bathed in a subdued moonlight, and felt a chill cross his body. As his hands began to shake, he was drawn to the source of the cold, the balcony door, opened slightly. He edged his way precariously to the precipice, and gazed down. Suddenly he felt himself falling uncontrollably… * * * * * Stephen awoke with a start, pulling the soft duvet around him, he looked around the bedroom, and gradually accepted the fact that he had been dreaming. He gazed at the clock, 4am, he thought I’ve still got time. With this realisation, he flung his head back on to the pillow, and drifted back to a restful slumber. “My love…” Two It was a dreary Wednesday afternoon in late autumn, the rain falling seemed endless, coursing down from the monotone sky. Stephen was losing patience with his class, not something he often did, but probably brought on by the lacklustre day. He stood up from his ancient oak desk, scarred with the fists brought down upon it in anger, but that had seen a long spell of peace under Stephen’s reign. He walked over to the window, the raindrops winding their way chaotically to the sill, where the gathered eagerly into an inseparable mass. The view to the lush greenery beyond may have been obscured, but it held his gaze for a few moments. He uttered a quiet curse, and turned to face the room. The dozen young boys sitting at their desks were looking at him, with entirely blank expressions. He looked back over them, and sighed. “Well, is anyone going to answer?” he asked, desperately hoping for any kind of response. None was forthcoming, and he decided he would rather not spend any more time in silence. “Have none of you read the passage? It was only half a dozen pages, it was a nice, easy way to finish off the subject.” To this he received a few murmured excuses and shaken heads, and he allowed himself another sigh. He walked over to the board and wrote a few words. The class looked at the board and nodded innocently, a few of them hurriedly copying them down. “The Great Depression, is but one of the many factors that contributed to the rise of Hitler in Germany. Seeing as you had so much trouble coming up with one, I suggest that you use your time over half-term to read about this and the others, as it doesn’t appear you know any. Am I right?” he glared at the boys in the front row, they looked up at him with meek expressions. “Yes sir, it was just we were practicing for the game tomorrow, we didn’t have time,” one of the boys had mustered the courage to speak up. Stephen looked at him and nodded. “That’s right Marcus, you did, and I understand that you made a decision of priorities,” began Stephen, “I think it’s just a case of working out what you think to be more important.” He took in a breath, ready to continue when a bell sounded. This was greeted by the enthusiastic packing of books and pens into bags, Stephen held up his hand. “Hold on there a second, I think that as you have decided to make the football game a priority this side of term, I think it’s my right to decide the most important thing for you to do next term. Only fair right?” There were several groans at this, Stephen couldn’t help but smile. “That’s good to hear. So I think that you should all prepare a presentation on some of the aspects of the topic, and anyone who is picked to present and hasn’t prepared will do it after school. Do we have a deal?” This last sentence was greeted by more groans and the frantic scribbling of notes in diaries. “I’m glad to see you approve, so I shall see you in a few weeks, enjoy your holiday.” Stephen sat down and smiled as the boys filed out, for the most part looking fairly downtrodden. The last one stopped by the desk, and looked back at Stephen. “Sir, are you going to come and watch the game against St. Christopher’s then? It’s the last game of the season you know? He asked. Stephen looked back at him and smiled. “And why wouldn’t I, young William? Of course I’ll be there, I remember all about school rivalries, we had them when I was at school. I’m sure most of the staff will be there,” he leaned in slightly closer, lowering his voice, “don’t tell anyone William, but none of the staff really like them either, but that’s between you and me okay?” The young boy laughed and continued towards the door. “Okay sir, I’ll see you at the game.” With this he walked out to meet his friends, and the group hurried off down the hallway. Last update - December 25, 2003 |
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