Grand Testing Tale -- page 2920

The Mind

I

The gentle, saffron Marigolds were swaying daintily in the simple breeze that was blowing, forming an almost serene image, peaceful, until the realization of what has happened reestablishes itself in your mind, and you are again haunted by the past. A past that you wish to and have been trying to forget, and yet, there is a portion of it you want to hold on to, a portion that you desperately want to hold onto because of how it affected your life. The past, in many ways, is like art, some seeing it from one perspective, other people differently, but even so, all hold the question of why something happened and what would have happened if, questions that have been asked since there was a past. The past, in the most case, hurts, and there are many things you wish happened differently. Why were there wars? Why did people hate one another? For, if not, the world would be eternally peaceful, and everyone would prosper in the peacetime. For instance, we, as a world, would be more advanced technologically, since we would be working together; the world would be a more appealing place since people would have time to clean and take care of it. Yet that is wrong, most people hate others, the reason is lost in the past. Why was there love? Love is like war, it tears people apart. If something happens to somebody that you love, you are heart broken. Love is so mysterious, sometimes it lasts for a lifetime, and yet sometimes it can change rapidly, and the person you loved, and who you thought loved you, will run away for somebody else. It was mixed emotions, emotions tearing me apart like hands ripping at my chest. I couldn�t handle it. It was too much. And yet I had another question, a question that overpowered all others. Why was there truth? The question to you seems like an easy question to answer. But it is not. I am still, to this day, searching for an answer. I am searching for the answer to that question, the question that caused everything�the question that is the base for all other questions. And yet finally, I wonder, what does the future have to offer? Will it be like my past? Will I ever find the truth to my questions? Everything mixed together, emotions, thoughts, and dreams. Past, present, and future. All of them were too much, plainly too much. All of these mixed emotions sent me spiraling into the vast catacomb of my deranged mind. It tormented my soul, and transformed me into something other than myself. I hadn�t any control over it. I was lost, lost in a world of fantasy, of grief, of love, of hate, of strife. My idealistic views of life before it happened had now changed. But after it happened, I realized with full potential the world that I was living in, and for once, I knew a part of the truth.

I lay outside on the new, green grass staring at the sky, the heavens, the stars. Then, hearing a sound, I sat up, and noticing that it was nothing, lay back down. I hated this place, I hated everything about it. Yet it was my home, my only home.

�Margaret, would you come here a moment, I would like to speak to you dear.� I just sat there, ignoring all the dialogue coming from my mother�s mouth. I still wondered, as a tear slowly trickled down my cheek, about the past. �Margaret! I need to speak�� I was in my own world.

I was promenading down the narrow, Kansas dirt road, oddly enough plotting each step; in my right arm I was carrying a basket full of eggs that I was to deliver to town so that my small, yet proud family of my mother, father, and myself could earn a few dollars. We really do not need the money, I thought to my self. I remember how serene the day was; the birds chirping gaily in the old maple trees; there weren�t any bugs, oddly enough, buzzing around, or at least what I was aware of. The soft, flowing creek beside was running slower today, and it was quite clear, compared to the usually brown look of it. I didn't see a person around; the road was very quite, I still had a mile to go, so I caught faint glimpses of the town when I occasionally walked up a grassy knoll. The sun was shining exhilaratingly and it's rays made the once forlorn trees look cheerful, as they usually did in the day, but at night, the trees looked old, rundown, and melancholy.

�Ahh me. I�how could it happen. How could they do such a thing?"

�I haven�t the slightest idea. It seems to me improper.�

�Yes, I know. It just does not seem right. I don�t believe it.�

�Me either. I don�t think that my homeland would do such a thing.�

�Yes. I know. It is the most illogical thing to do.�

�It is wrong. How could such a vain country permit a��

A man walking, apparently from the town, then rudely interrupted me. He was wearing torn pieces of wool poorly sowed together. The pants were the same.

��xcuse me miss. I �as just wondering how �ar it be to Jacksonville?�

�Why should I tell you, you vagabond.�

�Yes, why should we tell you?�

�Sorry miss.�

�Leave.�

�Yes. And good riddance.�

�How unmistakably rude. The Ignorance of that man. Margaret, you should have reported him.�

�I thought he was actually quite nice.�

�No you do not. You will never think anything of the sort. You are better than anybody in the whole world.�

�But��

�No protests. You will do as I say. Is that clear?!�

�Yes ma�am.�

�Good, now let us go to town.�

After I recovered from my confrontation with the strange man, I soon came up to town. After which, I went to the busy, dirty market were I was to sell the eggs. "Excuse my good sir, but how much could you give me for these eggs."

He weighed them, then lightly tapped them, and the he replied, "Two pounds, one dolla miss. In good shape. So, I'll raise it ta one ten. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it." I gave him the eggs, and in return, received the one ten owed to me. Then, I went to the next booth were bread was sold. With the very little cash I had received from the eggs, I bought a loaf of bread, then, not seeing much excitement in the brief part of the small town that I saw; I left from the same road that I had entered.

I was born to a wealthy British family in Dover, Britain. My mother was a housewife and, when she could, a librarian at the local library. My father owned a large steel company in Britain, and he gained a tremendous amount of wealth from the job. I lived a life of luxury, receiving basically whatever I wanted, once, even, I had my very own horseless carriage. My life was an image of late nineteenth, early Twentieth century luxury life, full of wealth and power. But then things started changing.

*********

It was a lovely, a little drizzly, like most British days, but an overall lovely day. I was walking home from school, admiring everything around me, the whimsical birds, the comely flowers, and the immense trees, the branches rocking back and forth softly in the wind; taking huge breaths of fresh air and then bending over to smell the rich aroma of flowers on the side of the rode. It was a normal day for me. I walked a little further down the road, when I saw dust fly up in the air, and a horseless carriage zoom up to me from the hill a little ways ahead. My father was inside it, and my mother was beside him, tears in her eyes. The back was filled with suitcases.

�Dear,� he uttered to me when he arrived, �we must leave, and quick. Be a jolly good chap will you and hop in the back.�

�But father, why must I��

�Please get in the back Amelia.�

�Yes father,� I responded. I got into the car, and even before I had time to sit down, my father raced off; I almost fell out if my mother hadn�t of grabbed my skirt. I then sat down. �Father, why are we leaving? Or, where are we going? Please tell me father, for I must know.�

�All right sweetheart. Umm, oh blast I haven�t the faintest idea of where to start. Um, well, come to find out, there was a bloody saboteur in one of my factories. Now, that was okay, we would of just went along with the day, because the bomb only destroyed the stock yard, which holds the steel waiting to be shipped which, of course, would have created delays, but I could handle that. But the problem was that this vile man who I have always despised, yet never fired because he is vital to me, blamed it on me. He said that I planned it out because my steel wasn�t real. As if that bloody ol� chap had planned it out, I received a telegram from many of my clients, (the line was busy a lot, and I had to use more than one line), such as the shipping yards, complaining that my steel was phony and that it was falling apart. All of them wanted an immediate refund, plus more money to pay for the time and labor wasted. I didn�t want to go bankrupt, because with what they were asking, I would have, so I packed up, and we�re leaving. Come along now dear.�

�Were are we going father?� I asked, knowing that I would probably never see this place again since father�s business stretched all across the island of Great Britain. Some of the steel even went to the colonies, the commonwealth, and even countries like France and the United States.

�I was thinking about New York. We will change our names and appearance, and then�no. I will still be discovered.� He sat there driving, pondering about where to go. �Blast�blast�oh bother�bloody botheration�bloody�� he kept repeating this over and over. Finally, he came to a solution. � I�ve got it! We will go to the United States, yes. But, instead, we will become farmers! Oh smashing! Imagine the joy of waking up early, doing a hard days work, and coming back knowing that you have accomplished something. We can build a large house and hire servants. If luck is with us, we can be one of those large, landowners and gain a tremendous amount of wealth. How jolly good!�

My father was a little odd. When his mind was stuck to an idea he liked, his attitude could change dramatically. We drove on, my mother looking a little worried. After a while, I could see the tips of the boats in the harbor. We quickly pulled up, then went to one of the ocean liners.

�Good dday jolly good chap, but could you please give us a ticket. I know how much of a rush this is, but we are desperate.� He said to the ticket booth salesman.

�Sir, I am sorry to say this, but we are all sold out of tickets.�

�You don�t understand my good man. We are desperate.� I said in rage.

�Sorry miss, I �on�t care if yous was the Pope. We�s all sold out a tickets.�

My father, quite rudely, replied, �Well, is there any other ship besides the�oh wait. What ship is leaving?�

�The Annemarie sir.�

�Well, are there any other ships?� my mother said.

�No, only that one.�

�I see. Well, thank you.� my father said. We walked back to the carriage and got in. My father started thinking a while, and then an idea struck him. �Dear,� he said, �Isn�t the captain of the Annemarie our good friend George?�

�I believe so,� my mother said with joy.

�Well then, we just need to tell the ol� chap that the captain is one of our good friends.�

�But father, do you think that he would believe you? And besides, wouldn�t George wonder why we got on the boat? �

�True. There must be some way to�aha! I�ve just had a brilliant idea! We�ll go along with the cargo that is entering the ship, tell them that we need our carriage on the ship, and then get on from the cargo area and then we will be on the ship. Haha!�

�Oh father, you are a genius!�

�I know.� he said chuckling loudly to himslef. We then proceeded with his plan. We drove to the loading area and got out. Oddly enough, we didn�t have much trouble and were able to get on the boat.

When our car was lifted in to the cargo bay, we then asked one of the workers if we could get on here so as not to be annoyed by going all the way around. Without thinking, they agreed, and we soon were on the boat.

We got on board and got out of our car. �Ahhhhh! A rat!� screamed my mother as a rat scurried across the filthy floor and over her gentle foot. It is okay mother. There are a lot of rats here. Remember, this is not first class.�

�Right dear.� We then followed the grotesque passageways to a flight of steps and, after ascending it, came to the C deck.

We soon got to the first deck, and then we found a room that oddly enough wasn�t reserved. We sailed on and soon reached the United States. From New York, we met this very nice man who said that we could go with him to Chicago, since we had to make a hasty escape and didn�t manage to receive our carriage. From Chicago, by means of transportation, we went to Kansas, all the while me complaining about my life. We looked for a quiet, small, peaceful and non-industrialized city, so, after much looking, we found the perfect city. We were, unfortunately for me, at home, a home that we would stay at for the rest of my life.

**********

I walked along the dirt road thinking about my past, the prodigious amount of wealth I had had, my friends, my home. I could still remember school, how I dreaded it, and yet now, even though I go to a better school, I kind of miss it. It all happened too quickly for me. I didn�t even get to say goodbye to my friends, all because of that man who ruined it all. I know that my father and mother are sad also. My mother was the talk of the town, with her elegance. She wouldn't have been if we lived in London. I don't know why we moved to Dover, I guess so the local businesses would be more familiar with us.

A birds pleasurable chirping fortunatly disrupted me from my melancholy thoughts. I could see my rather large house in the distance, standing like a single mountain in the sea. I saw my mother outside resting on a chair, bathing in the rich beams of sun falling from the heavens.

�Hello mother, how do you do? I have the bread that you wanted.� I said when I was in hearing distance.

�How delightful dear. Now, if you would go inside, I think your father wants you.� My mother replied with a warm smile on her face, her cheeks like roses.

�Yes mother. but first I have just one question. Why do we have chickens? Why do we go to the market to sell our eggs and by bread with it? We have enough money, you know, to buy this state and more.�

�I know dear. It is just that we wanted to try to fit in to the community. Do not you think that everyone would find it a bit odd If we built a huge mansion, had butlers, servants, cooks, chauffeurs, and things of the sort? They might then try to find out were our money came from, then if they found out, report us. It is very risky here, and you know that. Remember how, when we reached New York, we went through the alleyways until we found someone kind enough to let us take a ride on the bus? And then how, when we reached Chicago, we did the same until we reached here?

�Yes mother.�

�That is why. Okay? Now, if you do not have any further questions, why don�t you run into the house and see what your father wants.�

�Yes mother. Thank you.�

I went inside and dropped the bread on the counter in the kitchen, then went to my fathers study. I heard faint noises coming from my fathers office, and, like any other girl, pressed my ear to the door so as I could hear better. I heard this: �The square root of 729 times�equals�plus��

�He is just writing in his journal.�

�Yes, I know.� �Probably figuring our current budget and things of the sort.�

�You are right.�

�It sounds very dull. Shall I knock?�

�Why yes, certainly.�

�Okay, I will�

�Wait�what do you think he wants to tell you?�

�I do not know. Let us find out.�

�Okay. Knock now.�

�Okay.�

I knocked on the wooden door two times before I received a reply.

�Yes, come in.� I opened the door and eyed my father writing in his journal. He instantly looked up and, perceiving that it was I, smiled and told me to sit down. �Ahh, yes dear I have just been informed the most delightful news. There is to be a county fair, and all of the most beautiful women shall be there for a beauty pageant. Would you like to be in it?�

�Oh yes father, I would love to!�

�Jolly good show! Oh, and one other thing. The fair starts at eight o clock, so I want you to be awake by at least six thirty.� my father said with delight.

�Yes father. I will set my clock. Is their anything else that you want father?�

�No dear, that is all.�

I then turned around and went out, closing the door behind me, and, from there, went to my room. �How exciting! I haven�t been to a county fair in ages Margaret!�

�I know Cynthia. It is going to be so much fun isn�t it?�

�Yes. What should I wear?�

�I don�t know. Let us go look.�

I went over to my closet and looked in.

�How about this one. It is a perfect dress for you Margaret. It kind of matches your hair color.�

�No, I do not think so. It is to dull. I kind of wanted something�bright. You know what I am saying? For instance, this one.� �Yes. But do you think that yellow is bright enough? I was thinking about this dress. You look very delightful in red.�

�I would really enjoy something brighter, as I mentioned earlier.�

�Then I have got it.�

�What�

�How about this one.�

�It is fair.�

�Let me explain. You thought that yellow was a good color. I thought that red was a good color. So, to end the dispute, I chose orange. It is a mix between both of our ideas.�

�I really like yellow though.�

�No you do not. You like orange. You have always liked orange. Besides witch, that dress is to small and ugly.�

�I really��

�NO PROTESTS! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!�

�Yes ma�am.�

�Splendid. Now let us pick out some��

�I still like yellow.�

�YOU DO NOT LIKE YELLOW. YOU NEVER HAVE, AND YOU NEVER WILL. YOU WILL BURN THAT DRESS. YOU NEVER HAD THAT DRESS!�

�Yes ma�am.�

� Good. Now let us pick out some�� I spent about an hour choosing what I would wear the next day. After choosing, I set down at my desk, and perceiving that it was five o�clock, I opened my journal and began writing, for, writing is one of my hobbies. I had already written exactly ten plays, fifty poems, three novels, and I was currently working on a series of mine, the title of which being A Perfect Scheme. I had already written five others in the series. I wrote this: I ran through the brush, the thorns tearing at my flesh. I felt drops of blood trickling down my body, yet I went on. Who is it? Who is after me? I thought. After a while, I came to a clearing and stopped to rest, putting my hands to my knees and breathing deeply. I listening intently, trying as hard as I could to hear any sort of noise. But I didn�t. I then sat on a rock nearby. All of the clues lead to mother. But, my own mother wouldn�t do such a thing, or would she? I scrambled up when I heard a twig snap, and when I looked around, I saw a grim face staring directly at me. I�

�Margaret dear, supper is ready.�

�Coming mother.� I closed my journal and left my room for the dinner table.

�I think the story is turning out good, don�t you Margaret?�

�Why yes I do. It is the best that I have written yet.�

After a delightful meal, I came back to my room, and kneeled down at the foot of my bed.

�Our heavenly father who dwelleth in heaven, forgive me of my numerous sins, I beseech thee. My sins are numerous, and I pray that you forgive me. Thank you lord for your many blessings that you have bestowed upon us, and I wish and pray, as a Christian and a believer in Christ that you help me and every other Christian spread the word of you and your sons. I pray that you watch after my family and me and help us in this time of need. And most importantly Father, I pray that you will help me find a friend, somebody I can tell secrets to, someone I can have Lord. In Jesus name I eternally pray, Amen.�

************

I screamed a loud, ear-piercing scream and ran as fast as I could. As I was running, all I could think about was that one little innocent trip to the church.

�Dear, you must not scream. We are a ways ahead of them.�

�Yes mother.�

They kept running after us, trying to capture us so that they could report us to the government. We had been discovered! I ran on, sweating heavily. I could feel the oak branches slapping at my face.

We ran on, and on. We must have run about five miles before we stopped. I fell over on a branch, totally out of breath. I closed my eyes and thought about what had happened that day.

It was Sunday, and the sun�s rays were just as welcoming as the church bells. My parents were behind me a ways and I walked on. I walked into the church and set down at one of the pews. My parents soon came in and set beside me. After much chitchatting, the preacher started preaching a lesson. In the middle of his sermon, a man walked in, and apparently he knew my father. He looked over, and then ran out. Sensing danger, we got up and went outside. Outside, we saw a group of men huddled in a circle beside us. Immediately, we ran.

They saw us and ran�

I stopped thinking because I thought that I had heard a sound, as if someone were breathing close by. I closed my eyes again, when I felt a cold hand grab my shoulder, and heard these words: �We�ve got�cha now missy.�

II

The mind is the most complex thing in the world. Throughout history the great scholars of this earth have tried to unlock its secrets, yet failed. The have tried to the point of insanity, working endlessly from dusk till dawn. The human mind has many different forms, dreams being one of them.. Dreams are the mind�s paintbrush. The mind absorbs what knowledge it receives by day, and then by night it sets all of its knowledge down and organizes it into brilliant pictures, some good, and some bad. A person never knew what his or hers dream would be like.

I awoke heavily, and instantly sat up in my bed, perspiration crawling down my head. I breathed deeply in and out. Then, I lay back down on my pillow, turned to my side, and closed my eyes. I thought about my home, and the terrain around it.

I remembered walking down the beach beside the cliffs of Dover. I could remember how soft the sand felt to my toes, how cool the water was. I recalled the lovely, rolling, grassy knolls that I played on as a child. The sun shone down brilliantly at times, and other times it hid behind the fluffy clouds. It rained often, (I loved it when it rained), and afterwards left a harmonious aroma. The rainbow succeeding the rain was often times resplendent, and I loved to sit outside and watch it, just sit there, for no specific reason.

I remembered my house. I was a perfect house, made of crimson colored brick. Ivy grew up parts of the house, some even reaching the roof, and poor Mr. Bentworth, our main gardener, would have to climb up to the top of our three-story house and clip it!, heehee! What a calamitous thing for him! I often stared out of my window on the second floor at the garden at the rear of the house, with the colossal, exquisite, angelic fountain in the center�

Knock, knock, knock. �Ms. Stevensworth, are you in there?�

�Yes I am. What might you want?�

�Ms. Mcallister is here to see you�

�Let her in please.�

�Yes mis.� The door opened, and Elizabeth walked in to my room.

�Hello Margaret, how are you doing today?�

�Fine, thank you. And how might you be?�

�Splendid.�

�Great. Did you have anything that you wanted to tell me?�

�No. I came over because I hadn�t a thing to do. So, what shall we do?�

�I do not know. What do you want to do?�

�Nothing particular.�

�Do you want to see the new fountain my father is having installed? It is quite nice.�

�I think that that would be perfect. Let us go.�

�Okay.� We walked out of the house and out to the back yard. The fountain was not in the ground yet, and, since it had just finished raining, the ground was firm and moist, leaving the hole were the fountain was to go filled with mud and water. We walked closer up to it and looked downwards into it. All of a sudden, the ground gave way beneath me, and I tumbled in, Elizabeth following�

I turned over to my side and closed my eyes, and soon fell to sleep once more.