Oh, Sylvia

"The Heart"

by Alfredo Caceres

Every good story has two versions. Which would you prefer to hear, dear reader?

One.
Sylvia finally found love and...

Two. 
Sylvia took the scoundrel's beating heart and...

The Lonely Year

Artist Unknown

I was rooted.  All my life, rooted to the ground.

I watched my leaves break off, fly or fall, and leave me.

I watched the birds on my branches, flock and fly, and leave me.

I watched my brothers cut down, uprooted and stolen, and leave me.

I was filled with this unnameable desire, to leave this ground

that felt lonelier and lonelier

every year.

So, every day, I worked my roots out of the ground, little by little.

It took me years, and with every ring that grew around my bark,

the ground released me inch by inch.

I grew taller and older, lonelier and lonelier,

but shook the earth from me, day by day.

Until one day, my roots tore free.

Now, I am free to leave.

I am free to follow my leaves.

I am free to follow the birds.

I am free to wander the earth.

I am free to be rootless.

The Blue House: A True Story

It was the blue 'ouse on the corner, what done it.

I ain't one to tell no stories, but you can ask

Davey and Tam and Ronny, they seen it too.

The night was cold and clammy, like tonight.  That 'ouse was

groanin' something fierce and awful.  I once 'eard my gran groanin' cos

her bones ached, and it sounded like that.  Jest like that.

I don't think the kids 'ad a chance, no they din't.  Davey and Tam and Ronny and

I were lookin' for cats.  The sailors buy 'em to catch the mice on their

fine ships - two pence a piece, even!

And we saw them over the wall, all starin' like. 

They weren't movin' none, just starin' into them dark, dark windows.

Then they went in, one by one, like a line of ants.

I didn't hear nothin' but the groanin' of the 'ouse.

And they were never seen again. 

Their mams cried for weeks, and the men looked for them all

over the town, but no one

ever found them, no' hair nor hide.

But I know it was the blue 'ouse that done it. 

That 'ouse is alive, with its groanin' and grumblin' and old bones creakin'.

You don't believe me?

Go to it when the night is cold and clammy,

but make sure to stand behind the wall!

Look into its windows,

Listen to it talk.

You'll see it.  You'll hear it.

And then you'll know.

Just ask Davey and Tam and Ronny.

They seen it too.

That blue 'ouse on the corner.