The Harp
By Hana

    Scotty Bluebird was a dreamer. He dreamed of dragons and wizards and buried treasures and the world’s juiciest burgers. He dreamed of leaving this hospital with clean sheets and white walls and pale flowers. He especially hated flowers, they reminded him of his father’s funeral where everyone mourned and wept over his cold white body, rested in a bed of flowers. And this hospital? Boy- did he hate it too! To him was a giant building of hopeless patients wrapped up and swallowed in the snarling black hands of death.
 
It was a late day in July, and Scotty was listening to the rain tapping against his streaked window. Plop plop plop…the angels are crying he thought. His door rolled open and Mrs. Bluebird flew in, flinging her dripping coat on a chair and swooping her arms around her son.
“ Mom, you’re getting me wet,” he cried pushing her away.
His mother laughed and kissed him lightly on his head. “ Honey, I missed you all week. I was talking to your doctor this morning and he said he would let me take you out for dinner tomorrow evening at the new French restaurant on Glamour Lane. They have these fancy chandeliers, and the waiters are in nice white suits with gold trims. I heard that they had some excellent vanilla crepes and banana mousses.”
“ Awesome!” he shouted. Scotty was absolutely desperate to get away from the hospital. He lived here ever since he was born nine years ago, as a small, limp infant, only four pounds and eleven ounces with a brain tumor the size of an ant. His mother would tell him he was attached to so many tubes and wires he looked like a computer. When it was time for his mother to take him home, she was told her son was born with a serious brain tumor and they were going to move him to a more advanced hospital. The prices will be skyrocketing, but Scotty would receive the care he needs. Mrs. Bluebird cried for three weeks after that, and visited her son everyday to glance at his small, skinny face, his light blue eyes wandering in the new world, clueless to what is happening. She would kneel down beside his tiny crib to tell him she loved him no matter how different he was from the other kids, and God loved him the same way. But Scotty knew he was just in the way, the hospital couldn’t stop him from dieing. He wanted to spend time away from the thought of death, lingering around the corner of his bed.
“ Guess what? My boss raised my salaries last week so I can use it to improve your health conditions! Isn’t that great?” his mother sounded so excited.
Scotty smiled a painful smile in return. He didn’t want his mother to spend her money on his stupid disease; he was going to die anyway. His mother had done so much already. Scotty had grown up separated from the rest of the world, and had few friends of his age. When his father passed away, Laurie Bluebird (Scotty’s mother) started working full hours till her hands were red and blistering to keep her child in the hospital. She was like his super doctor. Not those guys with long, white coats and Popsicle sticks in their pockets, she was the healer of the heart. She never missed a chance to see her son. And when she did, she’d bring a basket of books and read them out loud, telling him stories among stories of fantasy and adventure. Scotty loved her partly because she was such an excellent storyteller, and partly because she was the only thing he had. To Scotty his mother was the best person that ever lived.  
“ Hey mom?” he interrupted. Mrs. Bluebird immediately closed her lips.
“ Mom, what happened to dad?” He paused, hoping for his mother to jump right into a story, but Laurie just sank down at the foot of the bed, looking at him hard.
“ What do you remember about him?” she asked sternly.
“ Nothing, I don’t remember anything…I can’t even remember what kind of guy he was or if he even loved me!” He noticed he was shouting. Scotty had been frightened all week about the piercing pain in his head, and he realized the tumor has been eating the memories of his dad. He was horrified to notice his dad was no longer living inside of him.
“ Oh Scotty…” Over the years the tumor kept damaging his brain and making him suffer to stay alive. Scotty has already lost contact with his legs, forgotten how to read, and had trouble remembering long ago memories. Laurie hated that all she could do was hope and wait.
“ Daddy loved you, he really did.”
Scotty looked at his mother, her deep blue eyes glistening with tears. He felt uncomfortable watching an adult cry. It made him feel helpless. Mrs. Bluebird wiped her eyes lightly and glanced up at her dieing son.
The only words that she managed to get out were, “He stroked the harp, stroked it real well. And disappeared to the land of perfect.”
“ The land of perfect?” Scotty was confused. Did his mother just think of that, or did she really know if there was life after death? It sounded good to him any way.

That night Scotty was up and awake, wandering his small, clean room, thinking about the land of perfect. It’s probably beautiful there, he thought. No walls or boundaries to anything, everything is just free, free, free. And definitely no brain tumors, brain tumor not allowed. He imagined a bright yellow sign with a big, black “X” over the picture of a shriveled brain. He glanced over at his dark, oak dresser, a single picture of his mother and father, sitting on the smooth, polished wood. It was the only photograph of both his parents; his father had died years ago. They looked so happy together; his mother’s long blond hair flowing behind her and dad’s strong arm wrapped around her skinny shoulders, both laughing away like nothing could go wrong in life. His mother had told him about that day, on their honeymoon on the Caribbean, how they had long walks after the sunset on the beach, their sandals kicked off and the waves rolling up the sandy shores. And then I was born, he thought. Shattering their future and ending up needing help. I’m just a useless, unneeded wimp, forcing his parents to pay unbelievable prices for a stupid tumor. Why did I have to be born with this? My mother never deserved it!! He looked at his mother in the picture and thought about her now. Her once, glistening silk hair now a tangle of straw, and her face smeared with total exhaustion and lack of sleep. Scotty was bubbling furiously inside and he wanted to scream at god that he was tired of all this stress and brain tumors and death. Absolutely sick of it!
 
Laurie and Scotty were sitting in a gorgeous dining room, the table in front of them covered in a sparkling white cloth, silver plates and forks and spoons lined neatly beside their folded napkins. Scotty gaped at the enormously high ceiling, beautiful paintings of clouds soaring across it, he’s never seen anything so amazing.
“ I knew you’d like it here”, Laurie said happily, glancing over at her speechless son. “Honey, why don’t you choose something from the menu now.” Mrs. Bluebird was swirling her glass of wine, smoothening her soft violet dress and glancing around the fancy French restaurant interiors. A tall, strong gentleman with an efficient manner came striding over and took their orders. After refilling Scotty’s root beer, he left, his coattail whipping behind him like a flag in the wind.
“ It must be real expensive here, are you OK with that?” Scotty asked nervously.
“ You have nothing to worry about. Just relax”, said his mother, smiling.
“ Sorry mom”, he replied quickly, “ just making sure you’re not…”
“ It’s OK, I promise.”
“ Right.” He rubbed his arms and looked at Laurie carefully. She was all dressed and had on her makeup and she looked like she was going to a wedding. She was pretty tonight and he remembered the photo in his room.
“ Mom, tell me about dad.” Scotty pleaded. “ And that perfect place, what’s it like?”
Mrs. Bluebird stared down at her hands on her lap and he knew she was thinking, recalling her long ago memories.
“ Your daddy’s name was Timothy. He was a lovely, hardworking man, with shoulders like big moving boulders and handsome gray eyes. When you were born, he was completely overjoyed and raced down the street, telling the whole neighborhood that you arrived. You’d never see anyone like him! He was so proud to be your dad, prouder than the first man to find gold in the West! He didn’t care if you were small or skinny or carried a tumor. Timothy thought you were the best gift that anyone could get. He’d brag about you at work and showoff your baby pictures at the mall. By the time you were able to walk, I’d think he told the whole United States about his new baby!
Then, one stormy day, he was driving to a music store for some CDs when he saw this brilliant, golden harp. Something made him to take that harp and drive to the hospital. But the roads were so slippery and his car was swimming in the worst weathers possible, and he didn’t notice the one-way sign that was blown off its pole by the unbelievable wind. Without warning his little car crashed into a large truck and he was crushed to itty bitty pieces.”
Scotty was pale. “ That’s terrible!” he shouted. “ It wasn’t his fault! It was that storm that did it! So happened next? What about the land of perfect? He dies just like that?” Scotty was blurting out words so fast, his head felt dizzy.
“ Well, actually I don’t now where daddy disappeared after that night. I just know god would send him to someplace special and perfect. And the harp, no one has seen that after the car crash either. But I know it was important in someway, maybe a present to you from daddy, a present to thank you that you were ever born.”

They were on the taxi. Scotty was glancing out the dark window, looking at all the signs and stores that passed by. Laurie was breathing deeply in the seat beside him, her hands resting on top of Scotty’s. The wheels parked themselves by the hospital parking lot and Scotty and his tired mother scooted out on to the gravel, walking towards the bright doors to the building. He felt sleepy and tired from all the good food and filling stories about his father. When he reached over to pull the doors open, he felt his arm get heavy and like his body shut down on him, his legs gave away and he hit the ground hard. Scotty’s head had a ripping pain and he saw everything in blurs of dark colors, a woman’s voice screaming and things moving in slow motion the distance. He felt tight and stretchy as if a giant hand was pulling his life out of his body, then everything when black.

Scotty was standing alone beside a small golden harp, floating on the waters, invisible. How strange he thought. The instrument rested on a smooth flat rock beneath a willow. Trees! Rocks! Where could I be? Scotty bent over and stroked the harp in awe, a gentle tone flowing from the silver strings, the color of the moon reflected on a silent lake. Then he remembered his mother’s last story,” A perfect place… a present from daddy…” before he…before he what? What had happened to him? He glanced down at his transparent hands. Hands? Then, like one, huge avalanche, everything came rushing back to him. He had been walking towards the hospital doors, and his mother had been screaming his name. He remembered that sick, stretching feeling that had sucked his soul from his body, when he …
“Am I dead?” he asked himself. It felt strange assuring himself that he had died. “ So it’s true”, he thought. “ It’s really true.”

Without having to carry around a heavy body or a brain tumor, Scotty felt as free as a bird adventuring this strange, lovely place. There was clean, clear water, rippling down a stream and round pebbles shined like gems at the bottom. Above hung the lush canopy of giant trees, the leaves fluttering like birds surfing the breeze. It was always light here and he was never hungry or cold. Gentle puffs of clouds swam in the pure blue skies, an ocean of marshmallows, he thought. The rays from the blazing sun danced upon the trickling surface of the stream and wild flowers bloomed beneath the flowing willow. He never knew when was day or night, but he enjoyed every moment in this place.
Scotty hasn’t smiled in such a long time but when he did, he closed his eyes with it, a single tear rolling down his invisible cheeks. He felt so satisfied, so overwhelmed with love and memories of the perfect people in the great place called earth, filled with troubles and feelings. Then he burst into millions of sparkling dust, settling gently beneath the willow and out bloomed a small, skinny flower, its petals light blue, a sweet scent flowing from deep inside. Beside it already stood a handsome, gray flower, a beautiful music drifting in the distance by the waters. And this was how Scotty Bluebird ended, happy and healthy in a land only in dreams.