Continuing Story Part 21

Morning came, with dew remaining on the ground. Dahlia was woken by the tapping on her shoulder. She blinked her eyes open and guarded them with her hands from the sun. Opening them all the way, she stared up into the eyes of an old lady. The lady was tapping her again, asking her if she was alright, why was she out here all by herself. Dahlia jumped back a bit, startled by the stranger. She rubbed her eyes, trying to focus on what was happening.

Suddenly she remembered why she was here, she had been taken advantage of and had left her nice home. She remembered leaning her head on the tree, and now she realized she had fallen asleep and it was now daybreak.

She looked at the lady again, and murmured that she was alright. There was no broken bones or blood, she had just got too tired to continue her journey. The lady asked her what journey she was making and Dahlia said nothing, because it hit her that she had no plan, but to escape.

The old lady, named Ruth, took her hands and helped her to her feet. She told Dahlia that she would take her home with her, that she didn’t look like she had eaten, and she could use some cleaning up. Dahlia didn’t hesitate, and moving like a robot, she followed the directions being given to her. Together, the two of them walked back in the direction of where Ruth lived, neither of them saying too much.

Ruth’s house was not that far from Dahlia’s house. Dahlia judged that it was about two blocks on the other side of her school she had attended. Once the two ladies got inside the house, Dahlia began to take in her surroundings. Noticing that there was not much, but the house was clean, and their was a warmth to the rooms.

Ruth led her to the kitchen table, and began to prepare some eggs along side with some bacon. She poured her a stiff cup of black mud, and told her to sit down and eat, and after she had finished, she would show her to the spare bedroom where she could rest, and would show her the bathroom. Ruth stated that this wasn’t much, here at the home, but it was paid for and it was hers. Dahlia smiled, and  picked at her breakfast, her nerves still on edge from the day before.

Ruth sat across from her watching her eat, thinking she sure was a  picky eater. If that had been her own breakfast, she would have wasted no time getting the food down. Ruth asked her where she was from and without thinking, Dahlia said that she lived two blocks on the other side of the school. She caught herself, and stopped giving any information. She was supposed to be leaving this area. She didn’t want anyone to know where she lived. She picked up her speed a little, forcing the food to go down, so the questions would stop.

After the last bite was gone, Ruth stood up and took the dirty dishes to the sink, and led Dahlia to the bathroom and spare bedroom. Dahlia said the bedroom looked very cozy and Ruth nodded in agreement. She said this was where her granddaughter used to sleep when she would visit here at granny’s house, but now she was all grown up and had kids of her own.

Dahlia asked if it was alright to take a bath. She was anxious to remove all remnants of last evening, to scrub herself until her skin shined. She wanted to put clean clothes on and just lay down and rest.

When Ruth heard that Dahlia was in the tub, she sneaked over in to the spare bedroom and went through the bag, trying to find any information about this poor girl who seemed lost and so sad. She discovered without much effort, some books, and inside the books were her name and her address,along with a phone number, that said please call to return this book to its owner.

Ruth went to the phone and quietly called the number. Rachel answered the phone, and when Ruth said who she was and why she was calling, she could hear the lady on the other end of the phone praising God for delivering her missing boarder back to her.

Ruth explained how Dahlia seemed upset, and how her clothes looked and that she could tell that something was terribly wrong. She just knew that Rachel would be worried. Without any hesitation, Rachel told Ruth that she and her husband would be over in  no time at all, and to not let Dahlia escape from her house.

Ruth quickly laid the phone in its cradle, and walked into the kitchen, looking through her ice- box to see what she would fix the two for lunch.  Soon, Dahlia came to stand in the doorway, and announced that the bath felt so good, and that she was very thankful to Ruth for offering her home. She said that she would lie down if it was alright, and then after resting, she would be on her way. Ruth said nothing, but let her go rest.

Ruth then went to her rocker and turning on the television and keeping the voice low, she watched her programs waiting for this Rachel lady and her husband to show. She wondered what kind of people they were that what ever had happened would make this poor girl want to run away from home.

In no time at all Ruth heard a door knock at and getting up from her rocker she went to open the door, and there stood the nicest looking people she could have ever wished for. What ever was going on with the girl, these two lovely people could have had anything  to do with it.

Ruth invited them in and offered the two of them one of her nicest smiles. She turned the television off, and offered them the sofa to sit down on. Immediately the questions came. Where did you find her, what time did was it when you discovered her? Ruth slowly told Rachel and Ralph about how she was out taking her morning walk. At her age she had to do what she could to keep the body from stiffening up, and with laughter, she pointed to her creaky knees. Rachel and Ralph smiled at Ruth, seeing what a kind old lady she was, and thanking God that she had the sense to call them. They continued to chat, Rachel explaining that Dahlia was a boarder at her house and that she was attending the school close by, and was being educated for a dance instructor. Seeing something out of the corner of her eye, she looked up to see Dahlia standing in the doorway.

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Continuing Story Part 14

The next morning came, bringing a warmth to Dahlia’s face as she moved near her window.

She laid her hand against the pane and let the heat warm her. Today, was her first day of school.

She carefully got dressed and ran  her hands down her clothes in case there were any wrinkles. She made her bed and fluffed her pillows before lining them up against each other, and then picked up her books and writing supplies and walked out her door closing it behind her. She went into the kitchen, and learned that breakfast was a do it yourself and your way. She felt lost as she didn’t know what was available. Susan came up behind her and told her there were several cereals lined up in a row on the table, and she proceeded to tell her what each box held and that they would always be in the same order each morning, so she could pick the one she wanted. She explained there was milk and juice on the table, so all Dahlia had to do was get her bowl and glass and spoon. Dahlia thanked Susan and went about fixing her breakfast.

There was little chat at the kitchen table, as mornings were too rushed, because every student slept in until the last moment. After cleaning up the kitchen, and putting the drinks back in the refrigerator, Dahlia went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth. She ran her fingers over her face and mouth making sure there were no dribbles left behind. Satisfied that she was ready, she walked to the living room. All the students were there. Each had their white cane with the red stripe around it, and they all left at the same time to go to school.

When they got to school, they took Dahlia to the main office so that she could be checked in informally. After this the girls who had classes with Dahlia or near her took her to her proper classes and introduced her to the teacher.

Dahlia took her place at an empty desk, and heard the teacher call roll call, and each student said here, when their name was called. Dahlia pulled her brand new book out and placed it on her desk. She felt the braille and knew it was for this class called Science.

Drew was the teacher of this class, and  he introduced Dahlia to the rest of the students and then said to them, get your books out. They were in chapter one, and were going over what they had learned yesterday. To Dahlia, this class was not very interesting, but she said nothing and listened. Soon enough the class was over and it was time to change classes.

Each class was pretty much the same and before she knew it the lunch bell rang and students either went outside to eat their packed lunches or they went to the dining hall and ate from the cafeteria. With the guidance of other students, going through the lunch line was  fairly easy. She bumped into one student, and apologizing the other girl shoved her a little back. Quick thinking of the lunch room teacher and Susan, this was stopped before anything could be made out of it.

Susan guided Dahlia to a table, and said there had to be one girl in every class that had to show off, and she had bumped into her. As the two sat and ate, Susan told her about how many students were in the room with them, and described what the room looked like. Before the two knew it, the bell rang once again, announcing their half hour was over. Wow, that time went so quickly. Dahlia wished her science class went so fast.

The first class after lunch, Dahlia made it to an empty seat, which was closer to the front in this class. Chatter could be heard as students poured into the room and began to fill up the seats. All chatter stopped immediately, as she heard footsteps coming near her. It must be the teacher. You could hear a pin drop it was so quiet. She could feel someone standing very near to her, and she wiggled around in her chair a little nervous about the closeness.

Then a voice came through clear and deep. It was Drake’s voice, and this class was history. She had Drake for her history teacher. Suddenly she sat up straighter and straightened her clothes a little and placed a smile on her face.

Drake introduced her to the other students explaining that this was her first day, and that they should all welcome her to the class. They did this by standing and each announcing their names and saying a good morning.

Dahlia didn’t hardly remember any of the names, as the only name on her mind was Drake. He asked them to open their books and turn to page ten. He spoke a little about yesterday’s class and went on to talk about the civil war. He asked questions and then called out names for answers.

When Dahlia’s name was called, she became frozen instantly. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She heard some giggles from behind, and suddenly remembered the answer, and out it came, and Drake stated, correct answer. Nice job Dahlia.

The next two hours were spent in dance class. Dahlia had been looking forward to this class all day, all week, and for years it seemed. When she walked into the room, the air was filled with symphony music. The teacher could be heard telling someone to stand up straighter. When all students were in the room and the big doors were shutting the world out, it was the students, teacher, and the music.

Dahlia had borrowed one of her roommates old ballet slippers for school, and she was to give them back when she was able to purchase herself a new pair. The music flowed through her veins as she practiced over and over the steps the teacher was teaching.

It was hard work, but Dahlia loved it. The bell rang and class was over. Dahlia was exhausted but excited and adrenalin was charging through her blood. Everyone sat and switched their dance shoes back to their street shoes, and slowly all left the room, and all you could hear was the echos of a ballroom.

All the boarding house girls met out front at the bottom of the steps, and together they chatted all the way home about their day at school. Dahlia piped in with chatter also, when she was not thinking about Drake.

Continuation of Picture and Write It July 22, 2012, Part 2

Sophie was standing among other little girls and boys and they were all awaiting for the dance instructor to come in. Parents were fussing with hair and dresses, and shirts, making sure that their child stood out in the crowd and was noticed by the teacher.

The teacher walked in, breezing by the children, paying no notice to any particular child, heading straight to the parents and saying only once, that all parents needed to remove themselves from the floor and take their places in the seats to the back. One by one, each parent left, but not before whispering in their child’s ear, to smile and do their best. In no time at all, the only ones standing were the students and one teacher.

Dahlia looked out over the class and saw some with fingers in their mouths, others acted like they ants in their pants, and couldn’t stand still. Others were seen with tears in their eyes, and one had to use the restroom. She made a sigh and thought to herself what a mess. It was going to take much work to get these children in line.

She cleared her throat, and tapped a wand on the table sitting before her, drawing all eyes upon her. Tears were stopped, and hands were lowered. She asked them to all have a seat on the floor, and the direct order was played out.

Dahlia was an old-time teacher of dance. She had been brought up by two very strict parents. Both of her parents had been in the military, and her home life had been of military style. Rules were made, and not to be broken. If they were, there was a strict punishment to be followed.

Her family moved several times during her life at home, and she never made the attachment of having close friends, like other children did. Dahlia had a bicycle, but was not allowed to ride it anywhere other than the yard. Some days you could almost see the yearning in her eyes, as other children rode by, and she was not allowed to go also.

There was too much to be done to waste time with day dreaming, so playing with dolls was being idle. Dahlia had one doll that she called her own. It was a stiff doll, that would not bend, and refused to be loved and cuddled. It had dark curly hair and blue eyes, and a few freckles on her nose. With stiff posture, Dahlia would imagine the doll dancing and would take her by the head and spin her around and around. She would raise the doll’s arms in the air, to twirl like a ballerina.

Dahlia was allowed play time only when all chores were done. She had to help hang the washing on the line outside of the kitchen window. She helped to wash windows, and scrub the floors. One of her earliest things she was taught, was to cook. She could make biscuits and cook up a fryer chicken. She could even make a great cherry pie, but during these times of training,  her mind would drift to her doll and the ballerina she had created.

When Dahlia was sweeping the floor, she would twirl around the broomstick, using it as a way to balance in order  to try to stand on her toes.  She would try making jumps in the air, mimicking the dancers she watched on her parents black and white television.

Each Saturday night, her parents would tune in one of the three channels they received, and watch a program that was a variety of singers and dancers. If Dahlia had been good that day, she was sometimes allowed to stay up to watch this, as long as she remained quiet and sitting in one spot. She glued her eyes to the dancers and memorized the steps they each took, and envisioned herself doing this also. Her heart would skip beats as she admired the beautiful clothes they wore, and promised herself that one day she would have such beautiful clothes also.

As Dahlia became a teenager, there was more opportunities to read, as the older children were able to enter the school library. She always made sure that she was one of the ones chosen to be able to go browse through the books on library day. She would spend her time gazing at all the titles, and then when it was about time to leave she would  pick out one special book and rent it for the week.

Dahlia did well enough in school, her grades always up to par, but as she matured, she knew with no uncertainty, that she wanted to be a dancer. She made this known to her teacher one day, and the teacher said that if she wanted something bad enough in her life, she should work for it and then obtain it. Dahlia asked the teacher for her help in reaching her goal, and the teacher’s response was positive. She explained to her that the most important thing for the next three years of school was her grades. She explained how any college that taught arts would first look at this.

Dahlia knew she had good grades, but what the teacher impressed on her, was that she needed excellent grades. She was also impressed with the idea of no missing school, adding some subjects to her lessons learned, and to open her mind to the opportunities of the world. Each thing the teacher said, Dahlia’s sponge took in, and she became a determined student.