If Walls Could Talk

If walls could talk, could we hear them?

“Walls, dear walls, what would you say?

Give me peace or assist in grief?

Give me wonder or diminish my fantasy?

Give me life or lay me to rest?

Walls, dear walls, what do you say?”

The young girl sang, touching upon the walls that surrounded her. A little hand set here and a little finger gently gliding along the wall, leaving the slightest trace that her small fingers where there. The line along her room, wrapped all four walls, just at the perfect height. Small kisses mimic just above the finger art.

“Walls, dear walls, what would you say?

Give me peace or assist in grief?

Give me wonder or diminish my fantasy?

Give me life or lay me to rest?

Walls, dear walls, what do you say?”

The repetition of her words echoes over her current song. Twirling about the room with one finger always in contact with her beloved wall. Dancing with the stillness she has been granted. Her little feet slap against the floor with the most elegant sound.

“Walls, dear walls, what would you say?

Give me peace or assist in grief?

Give me wonder or diminish my fantasy?

Give me life or lay me to rest?

Walls, dear walls, what do you say?”

Dreaming of the perfect life that she reads about in her small book. Mommy, daddy, a son named, Jude and their little dog, Roscoe. Small house, small yard and a backyard for Jude to toss a ball around. Him and his daddy would play in the tree house above the garden and swim in the pond they walked to on the weekends. The sun always shining and the clouds always perfect. The birds would even land in his window and say hello to Jude and his mommy would bake fresh pies.

“Walls, dear walls, what would you say?

Give me peace or assist in grief?

Give me wonder or diminish my fantasy?

Give me life or lay me to rest?

Walls, dear walls, what do you say?”

The imaginative child would lengthen her body as tall as she could to peek out of the window. Seeing her happy life play out in front of her and saying hello to her backyard animals. The wind would carry her wishes. The rainy days were her favorite, especially when a drop or two would splash her upon her hands. On the good rainy days, she could cup enough drops to watch them run down her arm. Leaving a sensational trail of what the creek behind her book-house would look like.

“Walls, dear walls, what would you say?

Give me peace or assist in grief?

Give me wonder or diminish my fantasy?

Give me life or lay me to rest?

Walls, dear walls, what do you say?”

The phases of the sun cast delicates shadows. Some taller than the petite child and some chasing her, begging not to be silenced by the night. With the moon come the songs of the evening. It’s easier to hear the whispers of the trees, under the moonlight. Crickets tell the child stories of their day and owls hoot her songs of reassurance. The occasional window tapping from a stray tree branch, elicits an adrenaline boost through her fragile body.

“Walls, dear walls, what would you say?

Give me peace or assist in grief?

Give me wonder or diminish my fantasy?

Give me life or lay me to rest?

Walls, dear walls, what do you say?”

Her pillow tucked into the corner of the room, snugged up against the wall, she now lies under her worn knitted blanket. A doll who once had a pale pink complexion is now dim brown in color. Once vibrant orange with yellow flowers, her dress once matched her loving caretaker’s. Lots of kisses and hugs are always bestowed. Her lovely song slowly becomes a hum.

///

“What’s behind this little door?” The curious voice of a woman is heard mid-day and mid-song.

The girl is caught off guard by a voice she has never heard before. Flushed with excitement, the young girl follows her trail along the wall to where the voice is coming from. The wall is finally talking to me, the young girl thought. After all this time, I am going to finally get some answers. She closes her eyes and sings with hopeful words.

“Walls, dear walls, what would you say?

Give me peace or assist in grief?

Give me wonder or diminish my fantasy?

Give me life or lay me to rest?

Walls, dear walls, what do you say?”

Eager to hear the walls response, the girl waits. Pressing her ear up against the wall, she then taps. She lifts herself up on her tippy-toes trying to reach where the wall is speaking to her from. Her toes only offer a mere inch or two but this will suffice.

“Walls, dear walls, what would you say?

Give me peace or assist in grief?

Give me wonder or diminish my fantasy?

Give me life or lay me to rest?

Walls, dear walls, what do you say?”

“Do you hear that?” The woman’s voice is heard again in response to what sounds like singing and light tapping. The woman now intrigued presses her ear against the wall and taps back. A response is given. She steps away and looks to her mate, now worried. “Is someone in there?”

The young girl has never been so full of credence that she is finally receiving a response from the wall. She steps away from the wall after the third tap. She begins singing louder, quicker and more demanding. She’s standing in the middle of the room, having released her touch from the wall for the first time ever.

“Walls, dear walls, what would you say?!

Give me peace or assist in grief?!

Give me wonder or diminish my fantasy?!

Give me life or lay me to rest?!

Walls, dear walls, what do you say?!”

The girl’s world spins around her, griping her own hands, she hops up and down, wide eyed and frantic. The force of the wall being opened and the door cracking, startles the young girl. Fear replaces excitement. Another sound that seems closer and louder, interrupts her song. A different type of adrenaline pushes the young girl to retreat to her blanket and beg for protection from her doll. Her song continues but for the first time, it’s sung with a fearful undertone.

“Walls, dear walls, what would you say?

Give me peace or assist in grief?

Give me wonder or diminish my fantasy?

Give me life or lay me to rest?

Walls, dear walls, what do you say?”

“Come on, one… more… pull,” the woman is full of wonder as she pulls on the last corner of the door that is still stuck.

The girl winces, terrified of what is to come from her once beloved wall. The wall that has given her peace that she’s protected and grief that she’s ensnared within. Wonder of what could be beyond and diminished her fantasy that she will one day get to experience all that she wondered. She danced with these walls. She sang with them. She adorned affection and created art upon them.

The young child realized that these walls were her life and she was not going to be scared of them. She stood up and awaited her fate. Dolly in one hand and her book in the other, she stood strong. And with one last loud and abrupt noise jolting her, her wall was now missing.

“Holy shit?” The young woman looked at her mate once again.

The young girl drops her belongings and rushes through the gaping hole. No longer caring for what words her walls had for her. She runs fast and unforgiving.

“Did you see that?” The young woman doesn't take her eyes off the corner of the room.

“You mean the book and doll mid-air then dropping to the floor?” They both swallowed simultaneously.

The couple look at what they have just uncovered. The smallest of windows allowing just enough air in. Dingy, old, forgotten walls with the marks of a tormented, trapped person about the size of a child. A doll from a hundred years ago and a book that has been read more than one of their favorites, with ripped pages and itty-bitty fingerprints. ‘This book belongs to Abigale of Dithery’ is written on the inside of the cover. A tattered and dusty dress still covering a child’s skeleton whom is discovered under a overused and holey blanket. Abigale’s skull still resting on the tiniest of pillows.

“Walls, dear walls, what would you say?

Give me peace or assist in grief?

Give me wonder or diminish my fantasy?

Give me life or lay me to rest?

Walls, dear walls, what do you say?”

The new home owner of this tiny room looks questionably at her mate and sheds a tear, “I’ve never heard walls that speak so loudly.”