Hello,
my name is Beverly Galbraith. I have always had a desire to write
fiction, but am just now getting around in my life to doing that.
I'm interested in having some of my pieces published online--free
of charge, except for the gratification of being published somewhere.
What I have submitted to you is a little departure from the norm,
in that it is a short fiction story, and I'm not sure where to
go with this. I have a love of blues that I truly want to write
about. I decided to throw caution to the wind and just submit
this story to different places on the chance someone might be
interested in fitting it in to their format somewhere. Thanks
for your time.
Blues
Experience (A Short Story by Beverly)
He had the reassuring feeling of comfort. She fit
like a glove; he had known her from the beginning-from within,
although it was only last night he was encompassed by her for
the first time.
It
began as he was working his way through the crowd. The streets
were inhabited by a virtual monsoon of humanity everyday at that
time. There were the usual sounds of engines racing, horns blasting,
the uneven, persistent tempo of feet-at times hurrying, while
simultaneous shuffling, stomping, or barely moving filled in what
might have been a small rhythm disruption. Today, the din was
greater than usual, with the whistles of cops directing traffic,
shouts of young men aggressively demonstrating their prowess by
lunging at each other in primitive, playful ways. All the city
sounds combined so loudly that he almost didn't hear her.
At
first, he thought it was the wind beginning to softly whisper
around the corners. But the beauty of the sound was much more
moving. He began to walk toward her, for she was drawing him to
her more than any other he'd ever known. The nearer he got to
her, the more he understood. She was in his soul. She was meant
for him-he for her. He immediately was certain of this. His entire
life had been spent searching, although he just now knew that.
He was now aware. The void within would at last, from this moment
on, be filled.
She
was getting stronger, more powerfully forceful in her magnetism.
Yet…….there was a longing…….a sadness combined with her beauty
and sincere, raw emotion. She possessed everything. He raced faster
toward her, all other sights and sounds falling into the abyss.
She, alone, was all there was; all there should be; indeed, all
there would ever be.
He
was near now. She was there. Her sounds were being translated
and interpreted through the guitar, the harmonica, the voice,
the words, and the weathered face etched with character wrought
from years of having known a side of suffering in life he had
never seen. This one she channeled through was melodically, emotionally
chanting, "…..I was lonesome, I felt so lonesome, and I could
not help but cry; all my love's in vain…."
It
suddenly came to him-she could be his forever by trading $15.00
to a merchant standing nearby-he could purchase her. She would
forever be his, and she could lead him deeper into her world.
Now
as he lay surrounded by her, he was whole, complete, and yet he
wanted more-a desire so deep, he knew it was an addiction. So
soon. A beautiful, good, life-altering addiction. She had found
him. He had found her. He knew her. She knew him. He would have
her in all her forms, in all her personalities, in all her expressions.
She
was blues.
