People from miles around gathered at the wall. For centuries it had heard their fears, their hopes, their dreams. For centuries it had collected messages and prayers scribbled on scraps of paper and stuffed into its crumbling facade. Some people were true believers in the wall and its power to pass their intentions to the One who listens. Some thought it nothing more than a novelty, a tourist destination, a photo op.
Cyrus was one of the latter. He lived near the wall and hated it. He often laughed at the pilgrims, ‘emotional fools’, he called them, shouting at them from his doorway, “It’s a wall you know! You’re talking to a stupid wall! Can’t you see how crazy that is? Stupid wall…stupid, stupid wall!”
But early every morning, when the streets were empty Cyrus would shuffle over to the wall; to the very same spot each time. He reached into a paper-laden crack and gently removed a folded yellow note, dropped to the ground, tears flooding the corners of his eyes as he read the child-like scrawl fading on the page.
Please don’t take my mommy God. I need her.
Days after young Cyrus had written that note, his mother succumbed to illness. That was the day Cyrus stopped believing in the wall; in anything for that matter. He felt oddly comforted when he read the note though. Memories of his mother flooded his mind. As painful as it was, he couldn’t stay away.
Year’s passed and it was Cyrus’ time to leave this world. As he closed his eyes, weary from a life of pain and disappointment, he started to feel lighter. His soul rose above his body and drifted through the door of his house and over to the wall where his mother stood waiting for him, holding the yellow note in her hand.
“Momma? Momma, why did God take you away from me?”
“Oh Cyrus, I never left. Don’t you know that every time you came to the wall to read your note, I was right there, holding you. Reminding you of how much I loved you. Did you feel it Cyrus?”
“I did. Yes, I did feel you each time as lovely memories filled my head. That was you?”
“Yes. The wall and your note kept me close to you. Now you and I can both find rest and peace. Are you ready Cyrus?
“Yes. I’m ready,” Cyrus whispered as he took his mother’s hand. Together they drifted through the wall into the starry night sky.
The wall moaned and shuddered as another breach ripped its ancient stone face bottom to top creating another portal for notes from those seeking miracles and little boys, orphaned too soon.
For MindLoveMisery’sMenagerie Sunday Writing Prompt. This week: “It’s All in the Title” – Use one or more of the titles below to compose a song/story/poem:
A Girl Called Gift
A Night Without Dreams
The Day the Stars Burned
The Mulberry Bush
A Disquieting Haze
A Vision in Blue
The Man Who Talks to Walls
The Fairy Queen