A New Song Short Story
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“…where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
Matthew 6:21
The Golden Heart
There was once a young girl who lived in a great house. The house and surrounding grounds were enormous, and filled with many, many children. The owner of the house was a wise, stately old man. No one knew his name. All the children simply referred to him as “Abba”.
One day, this girl found herself wandering the hallway outside Abba’s room. Though the children were forbidden from entering this room when Abba was not present, the girl’s curiosity got the better of her, and she quietly entered in—closing the door behind her. The room was filled with many amazing things—too many to mention here. But one object immediately captured the girl’s attention: a luminous, golden jewel in the shape of a heart, encased and prominently displayed in the center of the facing wall of Abba’s room. The girl was instantly captivated by the glow of the heart. And without stopping to consider why, she opened the case, seized the jewel and—stuffing the prize into the small purse she carried—quietly left the room.
From that day on, the girl’s life began to change. She would awaken each morning to spend hours gazing at the glowing, heart-shaped jewel. It never left her possession. Everywhere she went, the girl walked with her purse—and it’s contents—clutched tightly to her chest. Interaction with the other children in the house became unbearable as she found herself unable to suppress overwhelming feelings of suspicion and fear. The girl could hardly stand to remain in anyone’s presence for long. Encounters with Abba were particularly distressing. Though he remained to her as kind and loving as ever, suffocating guilt like a poisonous cloud would descend upon the girl whenever she was in his presence. She found herself avoiding him at all costs.
Though it escaped the girl’s attention, a peculiar transformation took place: the heart-shaped jewel clutched inside her purse began to get heavier and heavier as the months and years went on. And the girl—who should have grown up straight and lithe—instead reached adulthood stunted, stooped and stiff.
Soon after, the girl—now a young woman—left the great house and took an apartment in the city. She put the heart on a table near the bed in her room. And still every morning she would awaken to spend hours gazing at the heart-shaped jewel. One morning, the young woman was inspired by the shape of the jewel, and said: “What I need is a lover to give myself to—who will care for me as Abba once did.” And she began a series of love affairs with different men, each more destructive and debasing than the next. In this way, the woman wasted the years of her youth. As the months and years wore on, the heart-shaped jewel began to fracture and crack.
Yet another morning, the woman—now not so young—was inspired by the golden color of the heart, and said; “What I need is money, so that I can buy a great house, and live as I once did with Abba and the other children.” And so the woman began searching out a lucrative career. She worked long hours, day after day, going months and even years without taking a holiday. Yet her expenses always seemed to devour her earnings. In this way, the woman wasted the years of her maturity. And as the months and years wore on, the luster of the heart-shaped jewel darkened and tarnished.
Finally, there came an evening where the woman—now quite old—returned home from her work. Her eyes fell on the heart-shaped jewel, covered with dust on the table near her bed. She growled with contempt: “You worthless, deceiving piece of glass!” “What pain you have brought me!” “You were not worth stealing.” And without further sound she whisked the jewel into the kitchen waste basket, and marched the container out to the trash bin in the alley behind the building. Exhausted beyond her years, the woman shuffled back inside to her bed.
Late that night, the old woman was startled awake by noises from the alley below her window. Peering over her sill, she saw a dark form bent over and even half inside her trash bin. In the dim gleam of a distant streetlight, she could make out the features of a withered face, framed by dirty matted hair and a scraggly grey beard. The man was without shoes and was clothed in rags. An unexpected fury seized her. “Filthy beggar!” she muttered as she hurriedly wrapped her house coat around her and stomped down the stairs and out into the alley. “What are you doing you filthy thief!” “You’re scattering trash everywhere!” “There’s nothing in there for yo—…” Her words trailed off as the man stood and turned to her. What the tattered clothes and matted hair had disguised, the eyes revealed. Recognition flooded her mind like dark, cold water into a sinking ship. It was Abba—and in his hand—the heart shaped jewel.
Decades of guilt crushed her legs beneath her, as she fell sobbing to the asphalt. She could immediately feel a hand on her arm, gently embracing her shaking body. Turning her head she could see blackened, broken fingernails, and twisted fingers. She recoiled as her eyes focused on arms covered with dirt and calluses and scars. “Abba” she sobbed; “What happened to you?” “The cost of my search to find this…” came the whispered reply. Through a dark kaleidoscope of tears, the woman squinted at the gnarled hand before her—knowing what it held.
“I took it—I stole it from you.” She stammered. “Take it! Please—take it back!” Her tear-choked words fell to a moan: “I’m so sorry—I’m so sorry…” “It belongs to you.” At the sound of these words, a glow began to faintly shine from inside the darkened gem. At first seeping from the cracks, then gaining in intensity as the fractured segments fused into a unified whole—the tarnish vanishing like steam from molten steel. In Abba’s hand the jewel began to shine so brightly that it’s outline became impossible to discern—illuminating their faces in the night like a heart-shaped star.
A warmth washed over the woman as Abba finally spoke again; “Daughter, I own all that is.” “Nothing I truly own can ever be stolen.” “But this heart—a jewel so precious to me—that has become to you so heavy, tarnished, and broken.” “Which you removed so long ago, and now give to me to restore… was never truly mine… until now.”
“My child, the heart you took from me… Was your own.”