February 2, 2023

Parapraxis

Writer's Showcase

NO MORE SMILES AT EVENSONG

2 min read

No More Smiles At Evenesong

Let me set the scene:
It is a cold Winter’s day
and I am homesick.
I have only seven years
and my red knees are frozen –
sticking out, knobbly,
from under short grey trousers.
Out of the scullery door
I can see the field
and hear, in it, the slow chugging
of the school generator.
The light bulb swinging
and slightly dimming
between each generated chug.
The smell of gaberdine
rain-macs hung up to dry,
And above the macs
are cauliflowers hanging
“to improve their flavour”:
It is a sickening combination!
Shortly – because it is Sunday –
we will have to wash and change
into our cassocks and ruffles,
then file solemnly, in pairs,
along the pathway to the
adjoining village church.
Michael, a village boy,
fourteen of thereabouts,
will stand at the very back
pumping the bellows up and down
feeding the organ’s greedy pipes.
Before I move towards the front
I can see Michael and as usual
he catches my eye and smiles.
A crooked missing-teeth smile,
but friendly all the same.
He alone isn’t at all phased
by us Choristers being ‘toffs’.
I smile right back and then
I move up front and wait
for the grumpy headmaster’s baton
to command my soprano notes.
Every Sunday is the same –
save for the next in line
when Michael is replaced
by a wheezing farmer of
great age it seemed to me.
At Choir practice on Monday
evening the headmaster imparts
the news that tomorrow
we will be “doing a funeral”.
I am afraid of coffins,
and refuse. Result – six strokes
of his stinging cane
and sent to bed in disgrace.
After the funeral other boys
relate that Michael was killed
when he played in the field
with his father’s shotgun.
I cried that Michael was gone,
foreseeing loneliness and…
no more smiles at Evensong.

© Allen Ansell 2022

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6 thoughts on “NO MORE SMILES AT EVENSONG

  1. When this was posted on PoetBay I offered this comment: ‘A poem and a story; a skill you use in abundance; it carried me along to the final twist. Bravo Allen’.

  2. Wonderful . It is the ability to make the reader focus on the whole atory and create images of the whole poem while reading it. I love how you play with words and how you narrate the whole story..Beautiful.

    1. As I have said before, writing can be a very ‘lonely’ art: You usually write alone, thoughts that are primarily yours alone, and when the writing is done all that is left is for someone else – apart from you – to read those words. To have someone read your work and then write a comment such as yours is really rewarding to my whole being, and I thank you sincerely.
      Allen

  3. This is a beautifully written piece that evokes a strong sense of emotion and atmosphere. The imagery of the cold winter day, the sickening smell of wet gaberdine raincoats and cauliflower, and the lonely and homesick young boy all come together to create a poignant and powerful scene. The character of Michael, with his friendly smile and comforting presence, adds a touch of hope and humanity to the story. The boy’s fear of coffins and his guilt over not being able to sing at Michael’s funeral, as well as his foresight of loneliness without Michael’s friendly smile, adds depth and complexity to the story. The story is a perfect illustration of how the sense of loneliness can be alleviated by small human interactions. Overall, it’s a moving and well-crafted piece of writing.

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