bowl_of_glow: (J&E_reunion)
[personal profile] bowl_of_glow
To [ profile] lovewithstands – never stop writing if that’s what makes you happy :) *hugs*

Genre: Canon
Word Count: about 650
Disclaimer: Ennis and Jack were not created by me, but by Annie E. Proulx. No infringements or disrespects intended.

Bedtime stories

One of Jenny’s favourite memories from her childhood, one she treasured and still remembered clearly even if she wasn’t a little child anymore, was the memory of her Dad telling her and her sister Junior bedtime stories before tucking them both in.

Her dad. A man usually quiet and reserved, even a little gruff sometimes, but that loved his little girls to death, and Jenny knew it well, even though he may not have showed it all the time.
He had taken the habit of putting her and Junior to bed- usually it was her mom the one who did it, but then there had been some kind of major fight, even if Jenny couldn’t really remember what it had been all about, and it was her father the one who ended up doing it in the end, which was a nice thing because they never saw their dad much around the house. Always busy with work.

Mom used to read to make them fall asleep, but their dad didn’t like to read much. He always squinted at the pages in the dim light of the room, trying to make out some word he couldn’t see well, and he often ended up closing the book and putting it back on the nightstand.

Uhm, what if I tell you some story I know instead.

Fairy tales?

Fairy tales... I guess.

And he leaned back on the head of the bed, crossing his legs at the ankles, one arm wrapped around each of his daughters.

Well then.

Clearing his throat.

Ever heard the story of that cursed princess who could never grow old?

It was maybe a little odd that her father knew so many stories, but he did: he always seemed to came up with something new, thinking for a moment and then starting to talk softly, in his usual low, deep tone. Some stories he repeated more often then others, if they asked him to hear something again, or if he noticed they liked a particular one.
But Jenny’s favourite one was a story that his dad seldom told them- Jenny didn’t know how he knew it, she had never heard it before, and maybe that was why she liked it so much.

It was the tale of two young lovers fallen in love under the spell of some beautiful magic mountain -Jenny had no idea of where dad could have heard such a story, of he had made it up himself, because it wasn’t like all the others, and nothing really happened- there were no evil witches or monsters to defeat, no evil spells to break but still, her dad could tell that story with lots of details and there was something new to add every time, like he had been on the top of that magic mountain himself: he could describe the woods and the trees and the shining river like they were in front of his very eyes, and the little girls could almost see all those things too, feel the sun burning on their skin, the wind kissing their hair, like dad used to do when he was finished and kissed them both goodnight.

And Jenny thought that maybe it was a story that his dad’s momma used to tell, for he always got that kind of wistful and longing look on his face, like thinking about something that he couldn’t have any more, and maybe it brought back some sad memories too, she couldn’t tell.

She wasn’t gonna ask him anyway, like she never asked for that particular story when she was little, ‘cause she sensed it was something her dad didn’t want to talk about. And maybe, maybe it was another of those secret that would remain locked in his dad’s heart of hearts.
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May 2014

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