Classical Imagination

hi guys~ I’d like to share this new idea I came up with ^_^ and I call it *Classical Imagination or Clasimationit’s not spelled very pretty but I think It sounds pretty 🙂 basically I’ll give you guys a link to a magnificent classical or orchestral song and well, I’ll come up with a story for it 🙂 I want you guys to come up with stories to~! They could be real stories or fake~ whatever you guys like best. All you have to do is use your Clasimation ^.^ ~ please share your thoughts in the comments below. Also I’m pretty sure it’ll take you less than 10 min to read the story but I recommended reading very slowly also my grammar and editing skills are really bad sorry 😦 , without further a due, I present. Clasimation

Rachel Portman- Grey Gardens

Setting: City in the mid 1800’s

The sky was particularly grey that day, the air bitter. I heard mum call for all us kids down stairs. I rushed down the stairs as I listened to my kid brother, Henry, steps following behind me, click clack click clack.

“Hurry Eve!” He yelled I jumped down a few steps and sneered at him.

“Oh, hush up.” I said

He jerked passed me. Mum was waiting in the guest room with father. He was so pale…his sheets of satin made him look like a little sickly angel. Charlie whimpered and slowly trotted toward father. Charlie was a good boy, the best dog in the world, so loyal, so loving. Mum was sitting down in the old wooden rocking chair by father’s bed. She smiled at me and Henry. Trying to hold back the tears of which were already stained onto her face. Father called us closer….

“Children.” He said in a small frail voice.

I was hesitant, my stomach felt sick and stoned. Henry stepped forward though, I always admired his bravery. Father rested his eyes on Henry, as I, a coward stayed by the door grimacing at the pitiful sight. Mother just sat there looking out of the glass window. My eyes were still fixated on Henry and Father. I could barely hear him as Henry leaned closer to hear his last breath…father really was sick. I was far too young to understand. As father closed his mouth, leaving his eyes wide open, Henry grimaced. I just stared at the spectacle it was as if I was in a moving picture. Just for a second, as if I hadn’t even existed. My hands clutched onto the door way as I watched Henry slowly and gently put his hand over fathers eyelids, closing them. He then walked over to mum, who was still staring out of the window. He tugged on her pink frilly dress and hugged her. Her face once became stained with tears and made an expression to horrifying to witness, her voice as loud and sorrowful as the grief We’d all gone through. As I, the coward I am, simply stood there. I stood there. Holding the awful lump in my throat………..I felt the wet stain upon my cheeks. Crying? The lump in my throat grew larger, and so I sobbed. I just stood there and sobbed. I could hear both mum and Charlie’s howls ring through out our house, making mine seem like nothing but a squeak of a mouse. After a long, long, long time of sobbing. Mum stood up and sent us out of the room. Henry and I slowly walked up the stairs. My cheeks were red and awfully stained, on the other hand he hadn’t cried at all. I sighed under my breath. As I stared at the back of the boy, a bit younger than I. He stood towers above me, even if he was but of 5 years and I of 8. His back, was awfully towering, and made me seem like nothing but a small grain of rice. Night soon fell, Henry and I both shared a room. He’d always leave a crack in the door open for me, he knew I was frightened of the dark, no matter how much I’d deny the fact. We heard strange voices down stairs. I lay in bed, fearing what was in our house. I heard Henry undo his covers, and I shut my eyes tightly. Tighter. Tighter. I was awake but saw nothing but pitch black for my eyes were terribly shut. What seems like hours later I was jolted back and forth, not knowing what was doing this to me I screamed

“No!” After wards I heard a familiar voice.

“You ninny, wake up!” My eyes opened, It was Henry.

“They’re taking father away now, mum sent me to fetch you.

” I slowly sat up in my bed. “I have to, don’t i?”

He did nothing but stare at me with a blank face. He was probably disgusted at the fact I could ask such a question. I stood up from the edge of my bed and let the cold wooden floor gently kiss the soles of my feet. I walked down the hallway fearing the worst of what would happen when I’d come upon the staircase and the sigh id see below. Henry lunged forward and held on tightly to my hand. “We’re in this together, even if you are a ninny.” I stared at his forced smile. How strong, how brave. We walked together down the stair case, which seemed to have many more steps than it once had before. I squeezed Henry’s hand tighter, noticing he re-assured me. “Nothing down there, can scare or harm you, he still loves you.” My final step resounded as we reached the bottom of the stairs. I stared at the Henry, who was still forcing a smile.

“Let’s, say our last good-bye.” Still holding tightly onto each other we approached the door. The door which separated me and father. I grimaced.

“Are you sure?” Henry smiled.

“He sent through me all his love for you alone Eve.”

And so Henry pushed open the door, and the light seeped through. It was blinding. It was warm. It was welcoming. Nothing that I’d ever felt before. I embraced the light. I can’t remember anything after that. When I tried asking Henry what’d happen when we walked into the room he wouldn’t say. Although what I do remember are the words of love which lingered with me eternally. “I forgive you, for I love you always, my precious babe.”

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20 thoughts on “Classical Imagination

      1. yeah on my blog I wrote an emotional story about the real meaning of war. im not saying you copied my idea it was just a coincedenense okay

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      2. but should we I mean every time I tried to wright a story with the same level of wrighting skills (well in this case someone who is a better wrighter) we always ended up arguing on how the story would end. I wouldn’t that to happen with us

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      3. Mm no I don’t think so I’m pretty flexible with people’s ideas, I haven’t gotten into any argument in my life where majority of the time me or the other party finds a good resolve

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