I assigned a writing task to my students where they had to create a story based on a picture after studying it in depth. They could not look up the background for the picture, but instead had to come up with something on their own. I decided to do my own portrait story as well. My story is below.
The day was over, and
it was finally time for Henry to go out visiting…and by visiting, everyone in
the town knew exactly whom he was going to visit. What gave away his destination
was the new brightly colored orange shirt that he chose to wear because “she”
liked that color on him. That shirt contrasted nicely with the dark blue
coveralls that he chose to wear on top. The way his clothing fit on him showed
a young man packed with muscle yet because he chose to hide his physically
strong frame under these crisp new clothes, everyone knew how good his
character actually was. In a town such as this where everyone knew everyone
else’s business, it was good to know that fine young men such as Henry existed.
And that is the same reason why everyone wanted to protect Henry from “her.”
After jumping down
the porch steps on this very important day, a day that everyone knew was coming
and dreaded it at the same time, Henry began his long walk up the lane on his
way to Ellen’s house. Ellen was the one occupying all of Henry’s free time as
well as his thoughts. Ellen was the girl who made her own introductions to the
shy Henry. Ellen was the young lady who wormed her way into Henry’s heart,
despite the warnings of friends and family. Ellen was the outcast from her own
community not because of her meager beginnings but because of the type of
person she was known to be…a person with low character.
As he sauntered up
the walk in only the way that Henry could, he felt the eyes of his family
boring into his back, weighing him down under the weight of the stares. He
slowed his pace, trying to decide if he was imagining their disapproval, unsure
and unaware of their silent prayers that he stay and not make the mistake of
proposing to that girl. Instead of
stopping completely, Henry decided to quicken his pace, thinking “the faster I
go, the faster I can return with the good news.” Little did he know that his
mother carefully descended the steps of the small porch. Just as he reached his
hand out to open the gate to the road, he thought he heard his name in the wind
“Henry…?” But he was determined to be
on his way, yet as he grabbed the handle to the gate, he stopped as if frozen
in time at the voice and the strain he heard in the way his mother said his
name “HENRY…?”
He did not turn
around. At least not all the way because he knew what he would see should he
choose to look his mother squarely in the eyes. He would see her disapproval.
Her pleading. Her humility at having to ask,
not forbid, her son not to make this mistake. But most importantly, he would
see her unconditional love that she had always had for him. He knew that looking
at her would mean not making his way to Ellen.
Instead, he chose to
listen to his mother as she searched for words to that would guide him without
the overbearing tones and demands that she knows mothers often make of their
oldest boys. Henry almost felt sorry for his mother as he listened to her
fumble over her words, and in many ways, he knew that she was right. All of the
remonstrations that she stated were sound and quite valid…even though it took
her a while to get them all out.
Still, he couldn’t
help but think of Ellen…the love of his 19-year-old life. After the talking
ceased, all matters were laid bare as if skeletons were neatly placed side by
side and the silence settled, Henry did the only thing he could think to do.
Without turning back to face the rest of his family who were eagerly watching
from the porch or his mother whom he knew would have nothing but hope and tears
dancing in her eyes because he had stopped to listen that long, he opened the
gate and walked away.
But not in the direction
of Ellen’s…
