Grandmother Storyteller Chapter 2: Boy Meets Girl

April 1, 20202

Continued from Chapter 1: The Meeting

And so the young woman who sat in the same chair as many others before her, (listening to their own stories told for the first time) pulled up her lungs and her courage and with a determined exhale…”Yes, grandmother. I would like to hear a story.”

The old woman still counting on her rosary, with lowered eyes, whispered a prayer:

Spiritus Sanctus

perfringo

cor meum.

Ego sum servus Deus.*

Then, after a thoughtful moment asked, “Tea?” with a mix of pride and humility, “From my own garden.”

As she poured pink liquid into two porcelain tea cups, the scent of roses filled the parlor.

“Mmmm…”. The young woman sipped the pink brew; inhaled, and then, settling into the chair, allowed the fragrance to work its magic.

The old woman began:

“A long time ago a boy met a girl and they fell in—

—to a trance where neither could see the other as they truly were–

Only a reflection of themselves, to which both were quite pleased.”

“And the boy said, ‘Come with me and I will show you things you have never seen before.’ To this the girl replied, (and here the grandmother spoke in a high pitched quixotic tone which made the young woman giggle) ‘Oh my beloved, you will I follow to the ends of the world and to the end of all time.’”

“Sounds like somebody we know, eh? This was her first mistake, no?”

“Yes, yes” the young woman nodded in agreement blushing the same color as her tea.

The grandmother continued:

“So off they went together hand-in-hand sometimes pushing, sometimes pulling—“

“—Sometimes kicking and screaming.” Interjected the young woman.

“Yes. Sometimes kicking and screaming.” And here the old woman gazed out the window and then shook her head as if to shake off an old memory. “But sometimes laughing too, yes?”

The young woman through a single tear agreed, “Yes, sometimes there was laughter.”

Again the old woman continued:

“So off these two kids went until they came to the edge of a strange dark forest where the boy stopped and said, ‘We must go into the forest. In there is someone who needs me.’”

“Now, the girl did not want to go into the dark scary forest and she protested, but the boy said, ‘You promised to follow me.’ So, in they went.”

And the young woman sitting on the edge of the chair, “Grandmother, what happens next?”

“Ah, you will have to come back again for now my time is up and another is waiting.”

So, the young woman thanked the grandmother and promised to return another day.

She went home, kicked off her expensive leather shoes, and said a prayer.

To be continued…

–NZain💓

*Holy Spirit

Shatter my heart.

I am Your servant.

Author: NZain

@ukiezhinka

22 thoughts on “Grandmother Storyteller Chapter 2: Boy Meets Girl”

  2. “Holy Spirit / Shatter my heart. / I am Your servant.”
    OH. my. god. I love that prayer. Yes!!! I understand this, so much.
    And this line: “Then, after a thoughtful moment asked, “Tea?” with a mix of pride and humility, ‘From my own garden.'”
    It’s all beautiful… but those parts were exquisite to me…. thank you for sharing, lovely Nina. 🍵🌸🙏💓

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    1. Nadine thank you so much for this lovely comment. I’m glad these parts spoke to you—and you understand. This makes me smile. 🥰
      Chapter 3 coming soon…🌈💓🦋🙏🏻

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    1. Thank you, sweet Rachel. Glad you are enjoying this story. It’s different from my other writings—experimenting with new styles—so I really appreciate the feedback. Yes, love and heartache is something we can all relate too. Heroes too! Something to overcome…
      Love and hugs received and given 🤗💓🤗

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    1. Ooh great feedback, thanks Nour! I’m curious, what do you think of the girl?
      Sure you don’t want to know what happens in the scary woods?

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      1. Hmm she’s so taken with the boy and the fairy tail she thought this was that she can’t see that there’s something off with the boy. I don’t know what will happen, but I’ve the feeling that he’ll leave her. For the dead or otherwise.

        Liked by 1 person

    1. From the perspective of the fly on the wall. This was my first attempt at writing prose. A bit of an experimental expansion from earlier poetic writings. Yes, fishing. I do appreciate your interest and feedback. And this is exactly how I like my blog to be read—over time like a book.

      We haven’t been properly introduced. Hello. My name is Nina or Mrs. K—NZain How shall I address you?

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      1. Nice to meet you, Nina. If you stumble into others’ blogs I follow or chance upon, you will see I comment effusively, aiming to be steadily positive, encouraging, and (?) helpful. Helpful not from a “professional” standpoint, oh no, as I am but a novice; but helpful in letting authors understand what a reader gets (or misses) from their work. (My writing efforts are all over the place as I am still unhappily un-niched.) Should a writer seriously solicit critique, I will accommodate but usually in private especially if any of what I offer might be misconstrued as negative. I am unschooled and thus unappreciative of art, most poetry, especially today’s unstructured “free form” work, and do not usually enjoy romance, werewolves, vampires, stupid sci fi, and naked fantasy. I can be caustic (evident in my work) and highly critical of today’s reading audience. Most of the epithets used addressing me are unprintable. Occasionally I end a longer, serious comment with SPW which seems to stick, and some, harkening back to “Clutch” writings refer to me (when not using expletives) as Espie, a name-ish derivation of my initials SP. Now, if that don’t run you off, you got crust.

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