The Guitar – Part I

This story was written to a dear friend of mine. We were at church on day and discovered that his guitar was stolen. I felt bad and decided to write him a story. Each morning before I began work, I was the church secretary at the time, I would open my email and write…after a few mornings, the below story was complete.


The Guitar
by: MaryEllen Herrera

A Melody of Words, Creating An Everlasting Song
Rising up to the Lord, for whom they belong

It was a cold night…very cold and unfriendly. The wind howled outside, beating against the cabin door. It was merciless…like the illness that was taking his strength. If only there was some comfort in this day- to-day agony he lived. Hopelessness was settling in, just like the bitter winds blowing outside his window.

Looking out into the world that he no longer could enjoy, the old man saw his grandson coming up the walk. It was times like this he was glad he decided to move his bed into the main living room, for it lifted his spirits when his grandson came by. As the door opened a smile spread across his aged face, and despite his pain he welcomed the young boy with a whispered hello.

He knew his grandson was trying to stay upbeat as he talked too loudly and walked around the room too actively. If only he could comfort his grandson, like he did before when he was a real man. Yes, times were changing…he was no longer the provider, the protector of his family…no, now it lay on the shoulders of his grandson: a teenaged boy. It was no wonder his grandson had turned to doing things the unlawful way. That’s how he thought of it because he just couldn’t admit to himself that his own flesh and blood would and could resort to theft. Shaking his head he refocused his thoughts on what was currently happening and was surprised to see his grandson’s handsome face smiling down upon him.

“You aren’t gonna believe this Grandpa…I think I’ve just about earned enough money to pay for the medicine you’ve been needing!”

Alarmed by what his grandson said, he shook his head violently and answered, “Isaac, no! Don’t tell me you’ve gone out and swindled another innocent person outta their money!” He was about to continue but the outburst took too much out of him and he began to cough violently.

Not wanting to stir up anymore emotions in his grandpa, Isaac walked quickly to his grandfather’s side, took his fragile hand, and gazed lovingly at him, “Grandpa…please”, Isaac whispered, “You’ve gotto stay calm…don’t worry about anything – I’ve, I’ve got it under control…really, don’t worry none.” And with that Isaac leaned over and kissed his grandfather’s wrinkled forehead.

Continue the story: The Guitar – Part II

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