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letterstoocean · 7 years

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some re writes fro you to enjoy when you are ready

Greywater Tales

Ben, the song of Miss Luna and Vern the gargoyle

Ben was afraid to find a room and call it his own.

Miss Luna had said whatever room he could imagine would be there for him.

“Any room at all Ben.” She had told him as she brushed his now long hair out of his eyes. All you have to do is open your mind and let it happen.”

But he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

All his life, whenever he felt like he had a home, a place he could stay, a place that he would get comfortable with, he would have to leave it.

Ben leaving.

Ben going.

Ben gone.

Every time that happened, it hurt even more than the time before.

He didn't want that to happen at Greywater.

He was beginning to love Greywater.

That love was stirring that fear in him that he wasn't going to be allowed to stay.

He was sure the pain of leaving this place would hurt so much that it would kill him.

He convinced himself that if he actually didn't have a room, no place he called his own, then maybe he could hold off the move.

So he would just sleep whenever and wherever he got sleepy.

There always seemed to be a comfortable couch, a hammock, a big poofy, something that would call to him. Every morning he would wake with a comfortable fluffy pillow under his head, and an incredibly comfortable blanket covering him.

These were the best sleeps he ever had in his life. His dreams were so vivid that when he woke he couldn't wait to write them down in his journal. To sketch them out.

He actually wanted to tell the stories that were building inside of him.

Ben was afraid to call a room his own, but here lately he was sleeping more and more in the room with the library door in it.

The library would call to him and he would go up, find the books with the loudest voice then return to the room, flop on a couch or chair and read until he fell asleep.

He liked the room. The room wasn't his and therefore he didn't have a room and therefore he wouldn't have to move.

Ben also loved the night.

He had always felt comfortable and safe when the sun set and the day went to sleep. No one was around to bully him, yell at him or make fun of him.

It was like the world was his and his alone.

There was a music Ben could hear at night. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but to Ben, it was the music of people sleeping.

He imagined the music was peoples dreams as and it helped him with his stories and his drawings.

At least that was how he felt.

The room to the library was the perfect place to do this.

He could stay in the room and create or go out on the balcony, look at the sky, the lake, the calmness of the night and listen to the strange wonderful ever changing music of Greywater.

Ben liked to act out the stories that came to him. He liked it, because he felt like he was on a stage and the night was audience and his music as well.

Ben would do all the different voices, all the sound effects, everything needed to write the story down. Or get the images on paper.

He wasn't sure when he started doing it, but he called the room before the library the dream room.

Ben and Rhea had returned from the library, each one with a stack of books in their hands and big smiles on their faces.

They each found a couch and they both had fallen asleep that night.

“The dream room.” Rhea had nodded in approval the next morning when Ben told he what he wanted to call it. “It just seems right.”

He liked it when he could impress Rhea.

Because that was very hard to do.

He was starting to understand her a little bit, just a little.

He was starting to understand the house and some of the things in it as well.

It started with the old radio in the corner of the dream room.

He had seen one like it before in one of the places he had stayed. There was an older couple and their favorite thing to do was sit by the radio, rock back and forth in their rocking chairs and listen to music.

Ben would sit on the floor and write in his journals.

One of the better memories Ben had.

He wasn't sure if it had always been there or just appeared that day, but when he saw it in the dream room, he was sure it was the same radio.

Or was it a stereo? Ben thought about it, and he was certain the couple called it a stereo.

The stereo looked like a long dresser until you lifted the lid. Inside was a record player, something called an eight track and a cassette player. There was also a radio.

Ben could never get anything to work and just figured it was broke.

It was the first night Ben was stuck with a story he was working on and couldn't sleep that the stereo lit up and started playing a song.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you.

After the song was over the stereo went dark again.

Ben tried and tried to get it to play again but the radio refused.

That night Ben drifted to sleep with the song in his head.

The next morning he woke up and knew what he wanted to write. It seemed so obvious.

He immediately grabbed his journal and started writing. Humming the song from the night before as he did.

It was like the stereo knew he needed it.

Ben started to notice whenever he was having heavy thoughts, trouble creating or sometimes just needed some guidance of where to go or what to do, the stereo would play a song it seemed he needed.

But as always, if Ben tried to hear a song and get the stereo to work, nothing would happen.

“Guess I will call you Mr. Moody.” Ben said after another failed attempt..

The stereo lit up and the sound of applause and trumpets blared from the speakers then went dark again.

Ben nodded as he laughed, “Mr. Moody it is then.”

Searching for Rhea and having no luck, Ben went to the library grabbed the books that called to him and went to the dream room. He sat in a chair next to the balcony door and read until he fell asleep.

He heard a song in his sleep. It was the most beautiful song Ben had ever heard.

“Mr. Moody?” Ben asked sitting up and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Ben looked over to see the radio was dark and the music was coming from outside.

He walked out to the balcony and looked around.

The music was even more beautiful and clear outside. Where was it coming from?

The song?

The voice?

It?

Words could not form in Bens head to explain the music.

It was like he felt the music in his heart. In his stomach, like it was a soothing feeling in his head he had never thought before.

The voice, the voice was like, what?

As Ben looked around for the music he noticed the moon was so full and bright it was like the world had a white sheet thrown over a lamp.

He could see everything

Everything looked gray but he could see all the statues in the yard. The tree house. The lake looked like a gray ink spreading over the hill.

Ben thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He turned to look up at the moon, and there was Miss Luna standing on the roof above Ben.

It seemed the moon was right above her head and she was shining just as bright as the moon.

She was the one singing and she was singing to the moon!

Ben couldn't move even if he wanted to.

The more she sang, the brighter both she and the moon grew.

Ben felt wonderful goose bumps rise on his skin.

Miss Luna's long white dress draped over the roof and down the shingles. Her long white hair looked like rays of moonlight on her pale skin. Her pale skin even seemed to blend into the night like she was part of it.

It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It was the msot beautiful music he had ever heard.

He wanted to run back inside, to grab a blank canvas and a journal and write what he felt down. To pu this image on canvas. But he was frozen in his tracks.

He couldn't move from that spot if he was on fire.

Miss Lunas voice grew even louder and she spread her transparent arms to the night. She and the moon started to shine even brighter. So bright that had to cover his eyes.

And then the music stopped. With his eyes covered it sounded it echoed out through the night as it vanished.

When he uncovered his eyes, Miss Luna was gone. But the moon. The moon was even brighter and closer. All he hadd to do was reach his hand out and he could touch it.

“I wouldn't do that. Not just yet.” said a voice to his right.

Ben was so used to voices appearing that he didn't even jump anymore.

He stopped reaching for the moon, took his hand down and looked to see a gargoyl abut his size sitting on the edge of the house.

He had seen gargoyles all ove rthe yard. Many of them in different shapes and forms and doing different things.

This one was sitting on a stone cahir. One leg draped ove rthe other and it was holding a stone book up to its nose.

The gargolye was looking at Ben over its book. Just staring.

“Did you say something.”

The gargoly seemed to go from stone to felsh in an instant. It put the book down on tis lap and looked up at the moon.

“Very few get to hear Miss Lunas song, even fewer get to touch her in her full form. May I suggest you embrace you what you have experienced and not go any further. It could be too much.”

Ben looked a the moon and rememebred the feeling the song gave him. Perhaps the gargoyle was right.

“Where did she go?” Ben asked

The gargoyle raised its eyebrows and gave Ben a small grin.

“She didn't go anywhere She is still here.” replied the gargoyle.

“I don't understand.” ben said

“Nor should you. Not right now.”

The gargolye stood up stretched its arms, and spread its wings out and shivered like it was stretching after a long rest.

“I am Vern.” the gargoyle said.

“Vern the gargoyle?” ben asked trying not to laugh.

Vern raised his eyebrows again.

“Some thing funny about my name, Ben? Ben going? Ben there? Where have I Ben?”

“No no, not all. I didn't mean to laugh. It is just. Well I expected a gargolye to be named different.”

“And what do you think a gargoyle should be named, Ben congused a little?”

Ben thought about it for second, but really couldn't come up with anything Not wanting to offend the gargoyle any more than he had already, Ben said as much.

The gargoyle smiled.

“Then Vern suits me just fine don't you think?”

Ben nodded.

“Come let's leave miss Luna to her song and hed back inside.

“Uhm, won't you fall through the floor?” ben asked looking at the size of Vern.

Vern smiled again, “i am very light on my feet, Ben. We will be fine.”

Vern was right, it seemed Ben had a heavier footstep than the Gargolye. Vern barely made a sound on the hardwood fllor as he crossed the room and opemned the libarary door.

“I need to replenish my stock of books. Walk with me.” Vern said as he began to climb the stairs.

Ben followed in step behind the light footed gargoyle and they headed into the library....

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letterstoocean · 7 years

Text

my ocean,

so here is more of the ben and song of miss luna story. (laughing) great googly moogly my hands could barely keep with my brain it came out so well. i will edit later. but i was so excited about it, i just wanted to share it with you now. lol

Greywater Tales

Ben and the song of Miss Luna

Ben was afraid to find a room and call it his own.

Miss Luna had said whatever room he could imagine would be there for him.

“All you have to do is open your mind and let it happen.” she had told him as she brushed his now long hair out of his eyes.

But he just couldn't bring himself to think about it.

All his life, whenever he felt like he had a home, a place he could stay, a place that he would get comfortable with, he would have to leave.

Every time that happened, it hurt even more than the time before.

He didn't want to happen at Greywater. He liked it here and he was sure the ain of leaving this palce would hurt so much that would it kill him.

He was beginning to love Greywater.

And that love was stirring that fear in him that he wasn't going to be allowed to stay.

He convinced himself that if he actually didn't have a room, then maybe he could hold off the move.

So he would just sleep whenever and wherever he got sleepy.

His first week at Greywater he slept a sleep he had never known existed. Running around finding all the things the place had to to reveal exhausted him and by the end of the day he barely remembered falling asleep.

There always seemed to be a comrtble couch, a hammock, something that would call to him.

And every morning he would wake with a comfortable under his head, and a comfortable blanket covering him.

These were the best sleeps he ever had in his life. His dreams were so vivid that when he woke he couldn't wait to write them down in his journal. To sketch them out.

To tell the stories that were building inside of him.

Here lately he was sleeping more and more in the room with the library door in it.

The library would call to him and he would go up, find the books with the loudest voice then return to the room, flop on a couch and read until he fell asleep.

He liked the room. The room wasn't his and therefore he didn't have a room and therefore he wouldn't have to move.

Ben had always loved the night the most.

He had always felt comfortable and safe when the sun set and the day went to sleep. No one was around to bully him, yell at him or make fun of him.

It was like the world was his and his alone.

He always imagined he could hear peoples dreams as they slept and it helped him with his stories and his drawings. Like he could help them hear something they forgot.

At least that was how he felt.

After a week at Greywater he started to wake up at night again.

The stories inside of him calling for him to get them out.

The room to the library was the perfect palce for this.

He could stay in the room and create or go out ont the balcony, look at the sky, the lake, the calmness of the night and be himself.

He liked to act out the stories that came to him. He would do all the different voices, all the sound effects, everything needed to write the story down. Or get the images on paper.

It was like a movie in his mind. He started sleeping ithe dream room, that was what Ben started calling it, doing this enough, that when he woke up at midnight, there would be several new blank journals, blank canvases on easels and plenty of paints, pens and pencils for him to create.

He wasn't sure when he started doing it, but he called the room before the library the dream room.

Even Rhea had started calling it,

They had returned from the library, each one with a stack of books in their hands and big smiles on their faces.

They each had their favorite couch and they both had fallen asleep that night.

“The dream room.” Rhea had nodded in approval the next morning when he told what hee he called it. “It just seems right.”

He liked it when he could impress Rhea. Because that was very hard to do.

He was starting to understand her a little bit and the house.

He was even starting to understand the old radio in the corner of the dream room.

He had seen one like it before in one of the places he had stayed. He was staying with an older couple that loved music. The short time Ben had been with them, their favorite thing to was sit on sit in front of the radio, rock back and forth intheir rocking chairs and listened to music. Ben would sit on the floor and write in his journals.

One of the better memories Ben had.

When Ben first saw the radio in the dream room, and the fact was, he wasn't sure if it had always been there or just appeared one day, he was quite certain it was the same radio.

Or was it a stereo? Ben thought about it, and he was certain the couple called it a stereo.

The stereo looked like a long dresser until you lifted the lid. There was record player, something called an eight track player and a cassette player. There was also a radio. But Ben could never pick up any radio stations.

When he first started sleeping in the room or even just reading, the radio would suddenly light up and started playing a song.

The funny thing was, it was the first night Ben was stuck with a story he was working on and couldn't sleep.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you.

He had drifted to sleep that night with the song in his head, and the next morning the story came out with out any problem.

Ben started to notice whenever he was having heavy thoughts, trouble creating or sometimes need some guidance. The radio would play a song that fit the moment perfectly.

Funny thing was, when Ben really wanted to hear a sng and tried playing the radio nothing would happen.

After searhcing for Rhea and having no luck. Ben went to the library grabbed the books that called him and then sat in a chair next to the balcony and read.

As usual he fell asleep and he thought he was waking up to the radio playing a ong.

It was the most beautiful song Ben had ever heard.

Ben looked over at the radio and realized the radio was dark and the music was coming out from outside.

Wiping sleep from his eyes he walked out to he balcony and he lookeda round.

The music was even more beautiful out ehre. The voice of tht music was? What was it? Ben thought. But words would not come in his head to explain it.

It was like he felt the music in his heart. In his stomahc, like ti was a soothing feeling in his head.

The voice, the voice was like, what?

Ben noticed moon was so full and bright it felt like it was daytime. Like the world had a white sheet thrown over a lamp.

He turned to look up at the moon, and there was was Miss luna standing on the roof above Ben.

It seemed the moon was right above her head and she was shining just as bright as the moon.

She was the one singing. Singing to the moon.

The more she sang, the birghter she and the moon became.

Ben felt wonderful goose bumps rise on his skin.

Miss Lunas long white dress draped over the roof and down the shingles. Her long white hair looked like rays of moonlight on her pale skin. Her pale skin even seemed to blend into the night like she was part of it.