A Promise to Keep...

A Short Story about a young boy growing up in East Texas and a promise that he'll never forget!

           

A Promise to Keep
by:  JDR

 

Jack had a smile that went ear to ear.  And although still quite young, he almost always kept a strong serious face about him.  But with his curly dark black hair, light green eyes and a laughter that could warm your heart, he was an endearing young man.  He was a very handsome boy that was quick on his toes.  Very smart, quite bright and at the boyish age of five, his parent’s knew that he had a natural talent for music.  He had been introduced to many instruments in his early life, but guitar was his favorite and before he turned eight, he was picking away at classical music as if he had written it himself.  It was as if he had an old soul inside.

Everywhere that Jack went, so would his guitar; an old six string, wooden acoustic that was bought at a local yard sale would be seen strapped around his neck.  And every day, he would take long walks from his parent’s beaten old shack along the flats off of Cedar Creek Lake near Log Cabin, Texas; a small desolate town which included very few neighbors.  They lived at the end of a large piece of field, in which his mother enjoyed long afternoons planting and picking for the evenings dinner.  During the summer heat, she would retrieve to the house where she would stay, not to be seen for weeks at a time by the sticky heat of Texas.  But come fall or spring, if you were looking, she was there.  Her long brown hair tied neatly in a bun and her hands covered in big old gardening gloves and her 1920’s overalls.

Almost every day around noon, Jack could be found spending his time past the field down by the old creek that’s neck extended out to the Lake.  Cedar Creek is known as ‘one’ of the largest man-made lakes in Texas.  For miles and miles, you could see the mirror like darkness that was the resting ground for cat fish, gar, snakes, turtles, frogs and many other critters that Jack just didn’t want to think about when he spent hours cooling off in the lukewarm water.  During the summer months, the lake was overfilled with jet skis and expensive speed boats that lined up along each pier in the richer section of the lake.  But Jack stuck with his regular friends that lived in Henderson County all their lives.  However, he was a little different from the rest because of his dedication and passion for playing the guitar.  Most of his friends would rather be fishing.  But ever since the day he picked up his first loosely strung, over-sized Gibson, out of tune at the time, was when he realized that he would never put it back down again.  He would hear something on the radio and be able to imitate it note for note immediately after. With never having had a lesson, he was a true prodigy.  But to practice, he would need privacy.  He would head out in the morning hours to a spot along the creek that held his favorite tree surrounded by, what he liked to think of as gigantic rock walls that he had complete rule over.  This was his kingdom, as he could sit by that huge oak tree and play for hours on end.  Without the constant chatter of his sisters or the deep yell of his father, “Keep it down boy. I can’t even hear myself think!”

On this particular day, there seemed to be something peculiar in the air when Jack reached his favorite hidden spot.  Something felt different, appeared different.  But he just couldn’t put his finger on it. He found one of his favorite rocks and placed down his sweater and knapsack that contained his mid-morning snack of a peanut butter sandwich.  He would have rather had a bag of chips, but peanut butter was what his mother had packed for him.  He opened his large brand new, black guitar case and lifted out his Jumbo Acoustic guitar, one he got for his thirteenth birthday.  With a sound as big as Texas, Jacks guitar was covered with a stylish flame, maple back and sides and a solid spruce top and maple neck. He gently leaned it up against the tree and suddenly, as he grabbed for his pick, he heard a voice quietly speak.  “Play…”

He quickly turned to look, but nothing was there.  He distinctively heard the faint hint of a woman’s voice, a whisper, a gasp.  It was something.  He scratched his head and gave up, grabbing for his guitar, again he heard, “Play…”

This time, he jumped around staring at the tree.  It was coming from the tree.  But his better judgment knew that this just wasn’t possible.  Unless…  He searched; he walked around the entirety of the tree almost jumping as he turned each rounded corner.  Again, he reached his original position, “nothing. It’s nothing.”  He thought to himself.

“Play,” He froze in fear!  “Play, please play for me.” the raspy voice spoke quietly.

This time, he ‘knew’ that he had heard something and it was coming from that tree.  With his back facing it, he stepped ten paces forward in the opposite direction of the large curious image that casted its shadow in Jacks direction.  He slowly began to turn around to see what was causing this very human like sound.  He turned and turned catching one of his sandals on a rock and stick peering out of a hole in the ground.  He almost began to trip as his eyes met level with the face of this enormous piece of history.  As he gazed, open mouthed staring at what his mind would not allow him to understand, he could see the elegant image of a beautiful woman covered in what appeared to be a white robe enveloped by the tree’s branches.  Jack stood for a second in awe, but did not speak.

“Please, do not fear me.  I am only but a human, like you, cast into this dark old tree.  And for as long as it shall exist, so shall I be trapped within its confinement only to appear by the light of day.”  She paused for a moment to allow Jack time to digest the situation.  But the mesmerizing woman could feel that he was more interested than scared and continued with her story.  “I will not hurt you as I cannot leave the essence of this old tree and would never cause anyone harm.  Never mind a musical, kind soul like you.”  Jack was the first person that seemed to have the ability to see her and hear her words.  And only Jack, could she hear speak and make beautiful music.

“Are you a witch of some kind?  A man of magic?”  She spoke in a scratchy cold voice as if she were trembling.

But Jack could only see the fainted outline of the woman trapped within the tree through the light that shined and created her vision.

“A witch?  I do not believe in such silly things.” Jack pronounced with his head held high. “I am but a boy that plays guitar.  But what are you?  Are you a witch?”

“Don’t be silly.  I am, or was but a young girl, trapped and cursed.”  The golden ray of light whispered.  “A long, long time ago, there was an evil woman that cast me within the confinements of this aged piece of elegant oak.  She held powers of the dark and first cast a spell on my father to take over his riches.  But when I caught her, she cast this evil spell on me.”  She cautioned Jack, that this wicked witch seemed to hold black magic within her.

Out of nowhere, the woman of light sang out,

‘I shine all day long
In the night, I retreat
To the safety of your song
Deep within the branches of this tree’

                The angelic woman continued on to tell Jack the story about how she had been trapped within this very tree for a hundred years because of this wicked women’s spell.

When she was but a young girl, with eyes of emerald green and hair as soft as golden silk, she ruled her kingdom strong.  Her mother’s life left her during her very own birth, leaving but a mirror image of her own elegance and grace.  Her father, Prince of all and King of nothing but their own little world, worshipped his only begotten daughter.  And for many years, they locked themselves deep within the walls of their own home.  It was their castle in the clouds and they would spend all of their time learning, singing and playing.  Music was always a very big part of their lives.  She was always well read and well played.  She named off the instruments that she had learned; the piano, the flute, the violin, the cello- She was expected to learn, as her father would lovingly suggest.  You could tell from the passion of her words that she had worshipped the time that she spent with her father.

Until the day pure evil entered their castle and entered their world.  She explained how you could feel the darkness rise and fall all at once; surrounding them in a deep fog of confusion.  There was a new maid to be hired.  A wicked woman by the name of Gretta had entered their home.  Her father had been busy at work hand crafting his own special guitar that he had planned on teaching her to play, when the woman’s arrival was announced.  Immediately, her father was taken by the new servant he had hired.  Her long red thick locks, her delicate skin, how her eyes seemed to sparkle in the night had caught her father’s immediate attention.  Where did she come from, this seemingly perfect creature?  It wasn’t long before her father had begun to spend all of his time with this new woman.  Everything had seemed to happen so quickly.  And soon after they announced that they were to be married, Gretta’s things were to be moved into the girl’s late mother’s closet.  After the celebration of their union, hard times began to fall upon their humble abode.

One afternoon, the fierce red headed woman had taken a day walking in the gardens, when the girl had come upon a book that the woman had left behind upon a shelf in the library.  When she reached for it, it opened and she could see that this was no ordinary book, but a book of evil words.  When she brought it to her father, his new wife had tried to convince him that it was his daughters and that she had overheard her reading from a book of spells.  She told him that his daughter would have to be removed at once.  The girl choked while telling her story.  But the truth be told, it was this wicked woman’s darkness that was coveting their once loving space.

Jack gasped at the thoughts that swirled throughout his wildly vivid imagination.  And although, on this very day, something more than reality, more than fact, was happening right before his very eyes, maybe there was a connection between the two of them.  Maybe there was something special about the girl in the tree and his guitar and maybe even he was special.  More than special, almost ‘chosen’ to be able to see and hear this mystical creature that was, is and speaks before him, to him.  He noticed that he was not nervous at all.  He had placed his guitar upon one of the rocks and sat down to listen eagerly.  He still could not believe his eyes, but he had seen stranger things on the television, why not hear what she was saying.

One year to day after her father and his new wife had wed, the girl had gone into one of the empty stone rooms in the lower section of what was left of their home-made castle and found the wicked woman standing over a witch’s pot; a big black caldron.  In her right hand was the girls father’s precious family ring and as she watched in fear, the old witch threw it into the pot along with some kind of dead animal carcass and some other ingredients while chanting a demon like curse.  When Gretta noticed the girl’s presence, she raised both hands and shouted her name three times.  She spit into the pot and threw in a necklace that was given to the girl for her thirteenth birthday.  It had been her mother’s broche and her father had given it to her to keep with her always, as a memory.  It was now gone.  And that was when she began to feel kind of different.  She became quite dizzy, light headed and felt as if she was beginning to slip away.

“I could feel my feet begin to float and suddenly… I was in another world.  I was in complete blackness.  Forever, it seemed.  But it was only a night. “

Upon sunrise, she could see again.  And when she could finally see, there she was.  To forever face that one spot along the creek, only to be interrupted by the occasional passer byes.  She came to realize that Gretta, the wicked woman that had played her father so well, had planned it all along.  And what had become of her poor old father once she was cast away to new lands, she would never find out.  That evil witch had cast her spell, encaging the girl into one of nature's strongest life forms- something that would live a very long time, as so she may suffer for a very very long time in a frozen state.  And there she remained, for eternity, crying her silent tears.  With only the ability to hear music, Jacks music.  There had been others over the years that had sat upon those very same rocks when the sun was bright, but they could not hear her whispers, nor could she hear their words.  Until Jack stumbled upon and she could hear the beautiful music that he could so easily maneuver.  Until that fated day, she was cursed with silence as well.”

She explained that her only comfort was on the days that Jack would come and play.  She promised that if he would continue to do this, that his successes would be plentiful throughout his life.

“Although I am not a witch, I do hold powers as well.  And if you promise to play for me, I will promise you a life of success.  A life of power.” She giggled enticingly.

“A life of power?”  Jack asked.  “But what if I don’t want power?  What if I just want to play my guitar?”  He asked as he slumped forward with head in hands.  What was happening here?  This could not be real.  This could not be happening, he thought to himself.

“Oh, but my sweet sweet boy, it is happening,” she read his thoughts.  “And if you can make me this one promise, I will help you find happiness and health, success and wealth, a family, a dog and a bird. You will enjoy every moment of your life, if you would only kindly promise me this one special wish.”  She smiled gently at the young boy.

Again, she sang out;

‘I shine all day long
In the night, I retreat
To the safety of your song
Deep within the branches of this tree’

 “Okay, now you’re creeping me out lady.  Like I’m going to make a promise to some chick that glows, hanging out in some big old oak tree in the middle of East Texas!  Not!”  Jack exclaimed with a silly boyish grin across his face.  Thinking he had got the better of her.

“My mother taught me better than that!”  And with this statement Jack jumped around the old oak tree, half expecting to find a camera or one of his younger sisters with a tape recorder.

“Gotcha!”  He screamed!  But nothing was there.  And when he walked around to the very back of the tree, he could no longer see the lady of light within the branches.  He paused for a moment.  “See,” he thought to himself, “nothing. I was imagining the whole thing.”  He scratched his head, trying to reassure himself.

And as he began to walk around to the very front of the tree, he began to see the glowing golden light stretched out from the front of its trunks.  His shoulders fell back and his head fell down and he thought he might be going crazy.

“You know,” Jack began to speak, “We had an uncle once that was locked away.  My mom said he used to eat his shoes.  Seriously, eat them for dinner.  He’d put them on a plate and everything…” Jack was amusingly talking mostly to himself.

“Listen boy, we do not have very much time left in the day.  Make me a promise that you will come back when the sun shines and play for me and I will help you play the sweetest of music.”  The woman in the tree spoke earnestly.

“But I can already play.”  Jack was growing impatient for a boy barely having reached the age of thirteen.

“Come boy, come closer and I will reveal what your life will be like.”  Jack edged closer to the big old tree and suddenly, he could see himself playing for hundreds of thousands of people, writing his own music, recording.  Everything he had been thinking of since the day he picked up his first guitar.

“My only comfort is that of when I hear you play.  Promise me this one promise and you will play the sweetest of music for the rest of your life.”  She whispered.

Jack agreed, as he said he would.

Upon their agreement, she whispered these words once again...

‘I shine all day long
In the night, I retreat
To the safety of your song
Deep within the branches of this tree’

Jacks only thought was that he was giving pleasure to a woman that could never receive it on her own.  She would never be able to play again and he wanted to be able to play for her.  The riches and success were of no concern to him at this time.  He only wanted to bring joy to the woman by playing his music.  This kind of compassion would help him through-out his life.

He left that day after playing until sundown for the woman in the tree.  He watched as the lighted shadow of her serious face grew relaxed and he could see that she was able to enjoy even the few moments of music that he gave to her.  He also realized that his playing was ten times what it had already been.  He was playing intricate pieces that no one else could touch, easily, without pressure.  His success would be great, but he had to always keep his promise.  And as time grew on, his days by the tree were not only filled of music, but of long talks with his beautiful muse made of light.

For the rest of Jacks life, he kept his promise.  Until the day came that he had grown quite old and he retired in the very home that he was raised in.  As the woman had promised, his time had been filled with a beautiful family, a successful career writing and playing music and living a long and prosperous life.  As every day, Jack would succumb to the comfort and love he gained for the moments that he spent with the woman in the tree.  And felt empty at the end of his life, when he could no longer walk and reach the very comforts that made up his success and filled him with happiness.

When he passed away, he had been holding on to that very same guitar, worn, torn, beat up and used.  That beautiful maple acoustic that he had used throughout the many years when visiting his one favorite spot, had still made the sweetest of sounds.  Suddenly it dropped to floor, as Jacks life slipped through the empty fingers of existence.  When the guitar hit the ground, a note had fallen out.

It read…

‘To the woman that I have always loved
To the tree that made me be
My respect from the stars above
For thou art my muse
Eternally grateful
Forever I will be.’

 

Author's Note

Revised - yet, again...

Reviews

[KurKota]

As I typically have not read stories, I was reluctant to begin reading this work, but since I have an intent to expand my reading from poetry which is my forte, I decided to go ahead and begin reading it. I was not immediately anxious to continue, as it seemed that the subject matter was not of my general interest area. This all being said, your writing style and expertise drew me into the story irregardless of all of this, so I guess that is a sign of a good writer, correct ? I liked it, and found to be grateful for reading of it. Thank you.

[jdr / Jennifer]

Thank you for your review- I'm very glad that you continued to read... & ended up enjoying it. It was a little different then my usually work, but I'm very happy with how it turned out. Again, thank you so very much!

[KurKota]

You are very welcome.

[NoblePariah]

This was really good, it almost felt like a fairytale, in a good way. I will say I think you meant "thou" in the letter at the end, instead of though. It was definitely engaging and well written.

[jdr / Jennifer]

Thank you for your wonderful review- and yes, I meant to write 'thou' - thank you for catching that. I have been over and over this story & never even noticed it. And it's in the most important part- the ending piece of poetry.

[VALORMORE DE PLUME]

A wonderfuly refreshing original story. Well written and enchanting. I was hooked from the beginning and hung on every word through the beautiful ending. I like your style and gratefuly enjoyed the songs that played in me head as I read.

[.]

~ beautiful work, jenn... extremely poetic prose... you made magic out of a simple idea of a gifted child... i loved the detailing... and i loved how each character was distinct... jack, his mum and the way she ensured healthy food instead of chips, his father saying he couldn't hear himself think... his sisters and how he thought they were playing a prank on him... his muse... her father... the witch... and also the way you beautifully depicted texas too... the ambiance in which this story unraveled was extremely well-etched... and i loved how jack's devotion to music came through... and how his compassion for his muse was celebrated... i also loved the way you wove in poetry... the last piece is especially stunning... ~ super work, jenn... a treat of a read... thank you for sharing...

[Carly]

Very original. I don't know if there was a word limit, or guidelines that prevented you from doing this, but I would really like to hear the dialogue between Jack and this woman. I think that would add a lot to your story. The ending was done well. Nice work.

[jdr / Jennifer]

I agree- I thought about it, but where it was supposed to be a short story, I figured that I would save it for a longer version- but I do have ideas for what you suggested already. I'll put it together & then add it to this. Thank you for your review.

[Carly]

You're welcome!

[jdr / Jennifer]

I added in the conversation between Jack and the woman in the tree- please let me know what you think. Thank you again.

[Carly]

I like it. It gives me a much clearer picture of Jack's character. I like the way that the woman told her story in monologues instead of just back and forth dialogue between her and Jack. It's fitting to the story, and more effective that way. The most powerful part of this story is still the ending. It's very poetic.

[jdr / Jennifer]

Thank you- I'm glad that you enjoyed it. I'm thinking adding even more and seperating into chapters.

[Carly]

I think that would be a good idea, as it is rather long now. I write long short stories too, but I think this could definitely be broken up easily.

[jdr / Jennifer]

I need to work on the title as well- thank you so much for your help.

[jdr / Jennifer]

changed from Jack & his guitar - to A Promise to Keep-

[jdr / Jennifer]

& now changed the entire first paragraph- to give a better description of the main character.

[Carly]

Great. That definitely adds a lot to the story and Jack's character. It also makes for a catchy beginning.