By P.K. Silverson
© Copyright 2009
By The Author
All Rights Reserved
Long ago, when autumn skies could be seen for the brilliant blue they really are, a child was born to an honest tradesman and his wife beneath the blazing colors of the turning leaves in a simple but comfortable cottage down a well-worn lane off the main street which ran through town.
They were very happy because their baby was a fine, healthy boy. That he had strong lungs was evident, for he made appropriate use of them moment he made his entrance. They named him Rocky because they felt like it.
As was the custom, friends and family and neighbors from all around came to visit the honest tradesman and his wife in their simple but comfortable cottage down a well-worn lane off the main street which ran through town just to get their first look at the wonderful new child.
In the light of all the attention lavished upon him, the baby boy gurgled and cooed as if on cue. He responded to the resulting laughter and applause with a wide and happy smile. “He’s a born show-off,” the friends and family and neighbors from all around said to the honest tradesman and his wife after every performance. And the couple simply had to agree.
Nurtured by the loving care of his parents and the constant attention of his community, little Rocky grew fast and strong. When he reached the age of ten, his father gave him a mandolin for his birthday. This made him about the happiest boy on the face of the earth.
“Study your instrument well, Rocky,” the honest tradesman admonished. “If you work hard at it, the Good Lord will help you become a master at your craft.”
The boy heeded his father’s advice because he was a good and obedient son. In the last rays of each dying day, after school and chores but before dinner and homework, young Rocky diligently practiced his precious mandolin following the careful instructions of the excellent tutor his parents had hired for him at a very dear cost.
At first, the friends and family and neighbors from all around took to avoiding the well-worn lane off the main street which ran through town during the late hours of the afternoon. The shrill notes emanating from the simple but comfortable cottage produced a ghastly assault on all and any ears which happened to be passing by.
But Rocky kept at it. Finally, as if by some miracle, his fingers at last found their proper place. The noise turned to music, filling the town with art and beauty. Soon enough, the friends and family and neighbors from all around found themselves altering their routes to make sure they were passing by the honest tradesman’s simple but comfortable cottage down the well-worn lane off the main street which ran through town, drawn there by the haunting melodies as they filled the darkening sky.
In the light of all the new attention lavished upon him, Rocky played his mandolin on demand. He responded to the resulting laughter and applause with a wide and happy smile.
“We always said he was a born show-off,” the friends and family and neighbors from all around said to the honest tradesman and his wife after every performance, waiting until the tradesman’s wife had finished passing out cake and ice cream for those who’d been thoughtful enough to come hear her son play.
And the couple simply had to agree.
One summer’s night, as the mellifluous voice of Rocky’s mandolin resonated sweetly along the well-worn lane off the main street which ran through town, a neighbor’s girl, not much older than the tradesman’s son himself, found herself overcome by the romance of the evening. “Oh, Rocky,” she called, unable to control the longing she felt, “won’t you please sing for us?”
“Aye, lad!” the potter from next door called out. “Sing us a bonnie wee ballad.”
The boy stopped playing and regarded his audience with a stony silence.
What’s the matter?” the neighbor’s girl called to him.
“I do not know any songs,” young Rocky admitted, somewhat embarrassed.
“Make one up, you’re a clever lad,” an uncle-once-removed suggested from the back of the crowd.
“All right,” Rocky agreed, strumming once or twice on his precious mandolin to give his nimble fingers a running start. By the by, a new melody filled the garden. The boy sang in a clear, strong voice:
I never loved another the way I loved myself,
Not ’til I met you.
Come live with me and be my love,
I’ll always be true.
For we have time, now we’re together,
Time to prove our love.
Come live with me and be my love,
We’ll all the pleasures prove.
Come live with me and be my love.
The friends and family and neighbors from all around stood in quiet amazement as the final notes faded away with the last light of the sun, then burst into a round of rich applause. “What a clever boy!” they cheered as they rushed to surround him, not noticing the neighbor’s girl, who’d fainted dead away with pleasure right there on the lawn in front of the honest tradesman’s simple but comfortable cottage down the well-worn lane off the main street which ran through town.
As always, Rocky accepted their appreciation with a wide and happy smile.
The neighbor’s girl slowly came to her senses. When she did, she looked up to see her fellow townsfolk ringed around the object of her new affections. Overwhelmed by the evening, and not daring to disturb her new idol, she got up and walked away down the well-worn lane. When she got home, she went straight to her humble room in the loft of her parent’s cottage and threw herself onto her unmade bed. She wept great tears of agony and joy. She swore she would follow her Rocky to the ends of the earth if she had to so, one day, he would become her very own.
Rocky continued to grow fast and strong, nurtured along by the loving care of his parents and the adoration of his community. When he reached the threshold of his manhood, his father took him aside and gave him a brief talk. “My son,” the honest tradesman said, “the time has come for you to make your own way in the world.”
“I know,” the earnest youth replied.
“Your mother and I send you forth with our love and this little bit of money that I give you now, and with our complete confidence,” the honest tradesman went on, barely able to hold back his tears at this bittersweet parting. “We know you’ll get along just fine, because you are a clever lad. If you work hard at your craft, the Good Lord will help provide for you in our stead.”
“I know,” Rocky again replied.
“God be with you and keep you safe from harm,” the honest tradesman said to his son as the time of leaving came.
“Good-bye, father,” Rocky said. He struck off down the well-worn lane off the main street which ran through town.
That very same evening as the sun sank out of the sky, all the friends and family and neighbors gathered by the gate of the garden in front of the honest tradesman’s simple but comfortable cottage down a well-worn lane off the main street which ran through town, ready to enjoy yet another evening of cake, ice cream and music. But when the customary time came for Rocky’s concert to begin, no mandolin player appeared.
“Where’s Rocky?” the friends and family and neighbors murmured to each other, concerned by this unusual occurrence. “Isn’t he well?”
“The time has come for the boy to make his own way in the world,” the honest tradesman came out of the simple but comfortable cottage to tell them.
The gathered crowd gasped in unanimous surprise.
“His mother and I sent him forth with our love and what little money we could afford, and with our complete confidence,” the honest tradesman went on. “He’ll get along just fine because he is a clever lad.”
“Yes, he’s a clever lad indeed,” the friends and family and neighbors all agreed.
The honest tradesmen looked at the audience with a satisfied smile. “I know you’ll all join us in wishing the best for him. And now, I bid you, as I bade my own son this very morning, God-speed.”
With that, the honest tradesmen went back inside his simple but comfortable cottage down a well-worn lane off the main street which ran through town and closed the door. The stunned and silent crowd milled quietly in the road for a moment, then began to disperse. Soon, only the neighbor’s girl was left.
She stared at the cottage. She stared down the road. She stared at the sky above. Her pretty young face was tracked by a stream of falling tears, such was her disappointment. She could no longer see the object of her affections.
Overwhelmed by the evening, she walked away down the well-worn lane. When she got home, she went straight to her humble room in the loft of her parent’s cottage and threw herself onto her still-unmade bed. She wept great tears of agony and swore her renewed commitment to follow her Rocky to the ends of the earth if she had to so, one day, he would become her very own.
For his part, Rocky had made his way past the edge of town, then set off down the road to find his destiny. By the fall of evening, he arrived at the outskirts of a village not quite as large as the one in which he’d grown up. He was hungry, but it was the same time of day he customarily played his mandolin for all his friends and family and neighbors.
So he took his mandolin from its case and strummed it once or twice to give his nimble fingers a running start. By the by, his fingers found their proper places. Soon, divine music filled the town with art and beauty. He began to sing in a clear, strong voice.
Farmers on their way home from the fields stopped in their tracks. Day workers felt their worldly concerns melting away. It was as if the Good Lord had taken a moment out of a busy schedule to smile down on the little village.
People from all around were drawn to the town square by the haunting melodies as they filled the darkening sky.
Rocky recognized the new attention being lavished upon him. He played his mandolin with a celebration such as he’d never known before, spurred on by the laughter and applause which greeted him. He acknowledged the attention with a wide and happy smile.
“What a born show-off,” the people of the village remarked after the performance, stopping on their way by Rocky’s open mandolin case to toss in whatever spare change they had on them.
In fact, they tossed in enough for Rocky to enjoy a fine meal at the local tavern, with plenty left over for a warm, dry room at the end of the inn near the fireplace chimney.
“What a wonderful way to make a living,” Rocky decided.
The next day, he set off to travel the world at his own pace. He ranged far and wide, working hard at his craft. He sang his songs and played his mandolin, never doubting for a moment the Good Lord was looking after him. He never wanted for money or shoes or food or shelter.
One fine day, as Rocky played by the roadside, a man came over to him. It sunny Spring, and the scent of the air and the grass intoxicated both the musician and his audience as he stood in barefoot performance. A sea of smiling faces surrounded him. Sparkling coins filled his cap and case where they laid beside him on the ground.
But the stranger did not smile the way the others had always smiled. Rocky decided the man had the look of the wolf about him and should be avoided.
As soon as he finished singing, the crowd dispersed. The man came over to Rocky and introduced himself. “You have a wonderful voice,” he said briefly, “and a marvelous way with a song.” But he did not put money in Rocky’s case, nor a coin in Rocky’s hand.
“Thank you, kind sir,” the mandolin player knew better than to ignore a compliment, no matter how parsimonious the giver was. He packed his instrument away and pulled on his boots, getting ready to go on his way.
“Have you ever thought of playing professionally?” the man asked. “I think you could have quite a career if you put your mind to it.”
Rocky found the stranger’s words intriguing, so he asked him to explain further. The man fell into step beside him as he trudged off down the road.
“I’m an agent with a very large organization,” the stranger told him. “It’s my business to find raw talent like yours and help mold it. You’re already an accomplished performer, though even you’re a bit rough around the edges. But you’ve definitely got something, my boy. I think I could help you to become a big star.”
The agent went on to dangle images of fine clothing, luxurious dwellings, ample food and the opportunity to perform before large and eager audiences before Rocky’s innocent eyes. Before he knew it, the young musician was shaking hands with a man he’d known only since that very morning.
Together, the two of them set off to a great city in the sunshine by the sea. There, the agent set Rocky up in a wonderful suite of rooms overlooking the western ocean’s blue expanse. Within hours of their arrival, Rocky was escorted to the finest shops in an exclusive section of the great city, where he was outfitted in fine new clothes.
That night, he dinned in the best inn in the land. Afterward, he attended a magnificent party.
“Ain’t this the life, kid?” the agent asked Rocky when the party ended. The young mandolin player had to agree it was.
“I feel like I’m living in the middle of a dream,” he said, shaking his head to clear it. “Who’s paying for all of this, anyway?”
The agent simply smiled and winked at Rocky. “Trust me, kid,” he said. “You’ll have your job to take care of soon enough. If you take care of your job, you will be well taken care of in return.”
The next morning, a handsome coach pulled up in front of the inn where Rocky was staying. The coachman proclaimed Rocky was to be taken to a great hall, where a group of musicians awaited to audition him. Not knowing what else to do, Rocky picked up his treasured mandolin and entered the coach.
With the crack of a whip, the magnificent horses drew the carriage with a speed that left young Rocky breathless. In a short while, he found himself in front of the great hall of the city in the sunshine by the sea. On the instructions of the coachman, he entered the great hall through a side door down a small alley.
Waiting for him there was the same agent who had brought him to the city in the sunshine by the sea. “Great day, ain’t it, kid?” the agent smiled, leading Rocky through the back stage maze toward the grand auditorium. “You ready to show these guys what you’ve got?”
“Sure,” Rocky nodded.
“Great, kid,” the agent kept right on smiling. “Just do your best. That’s all anybody can ask.”
Rocky made his way to the edge of the stage and took his mandolin from its case. He strummed it once or twice to give his nimble fingers a running start. Once his fingers found their proper places, divine music filled the great hall with art and beauty. Rocky began to sing in a clear, strong voice.
Across the stage, a group of back-up musicians stopped in their tracks. In the seats, the booking managers and talent scouts felt their worldly concerns melting away. It was as if the Good Lord had taken a moment out of a busy schedule to smile down on the city in the sunshine by the sea. From all around the great hall, people were drawn to the grand auditorium by the haunting melodies as they filled the air.
Rocky recognized the new attention being lavished upon him. He played his mandolin with a renewed celebration, spurred on by the laughter and applause which greeted him. He acknowledged the attention with a wide and happy smile.
“What a born show-off,” the agent’s closest friends remarked after the performance, stopping by his seat at the front of the house on their way to shake Rocky’s hand.
“Don’t I know it,” the agent said. “This kid’s got what it takes to be a star.”
And, all around the great hall, everybody simply had to agree.
“I’ve looked high and low to find talent like this,” the agent said proudly. “Today, I’ve got the band of musicians I’ve always dreamed of. Play your instrument well, Rocky, and if you work hard at it, you boys can be the latest thing. Maybe even the greatest ever.”
The band heeded their agent’s advice because he was a convincing spokesman. Each day, Rocky and his band diligently practiced their music and wrote new songs. In time, as if by some miracle, their playing fell into place. Their music filled the city in sunshine by the sea with art and beauty.
The word spread far and wide soon enough, they were selling out the great hall’s full seating capacity with predictable regularity. People from all around found themselves traveling to the city in the sunshine by the sea to make sure they didn’t miss their chance to see Rocky perform.
In the light of all the new attention being lavished upon him, Rocky played his mandolin, and responded to the resulting laughter and applause with a wide and happy smile.
“He’s a born show-off,” the trade papers reported, “but you’ll love him, just the same.”
And the everybody who saw Rocky play his mandolin simply had to agree.
In fact, so many people agreed that they began to try and see him even when he wasn’t performing. They took to sneaking backstage at the great hall or hanging around the rehearsal rooms at the talent agency to catch Rocky’s eye. Most of the people who tried to visit Rocky in this manner were beautiful young girls who were willing to submit themselves to the mandolin player’s merest wish just to spend time with him.
Delightful as these offers often appeared, Rocky declined them. The rest of his band, always willing to help out, took up the slack.
Time went by, as time always does, and one day, the agent came to Rocky’s luxurious suite of rooms overlooking the blue expanse of the western sea. He was smiling, and he had the look of the wolf about him. Rocky determined the best course of action would be to pay particular attention as to what the agent had to say so as not to be tricked into making a stupid decision.
“You’re a very popular young man, kid,” the agent said with a smile. “I think we could really make hay if you took your act on the road, if you know what I mean.”
The agent went on to dangle images of wonderful places, exciting travel and marvelous food before Rocky’s innocent eyes. Before he knew it, the young musician was shaking hands on a deal to tour the realm.
Together, the band set off to visit all the great cities and towns of the land, leaving the safety of their home base in the city in the sunshine by the sea.
Their first stop was a village not unlike the one in which Rocky had first met his agent. The band found their inn besieged by star-crazed fans waiting for them to show their faces. They spent the day hiding in their rooms until it was time to go to the town hall to perform.
At the appointed hour, Rocky made his way to the edge of the stage and took his mandolin from its case. He strummed it once or twice to give his nimble fingers a running start. Once his fingers found their proper places and his band fell in behind. Rocky began to sing in a clear, strong voice. Soon, divine music filled the great hall with art and beauty. Around the town hall, people screamed and cheered. It was as if the Good Lord had taken a moment out of a busy schedule to smile down on the audience.
In every corner of the hall, people responded to the haunting melodies with thunderous applause. Rocky recognized the attention being lavished upon him. He played his mandolin with a polished celebration, spurred on by the laughter and applause, which he acknowledged with a wide and happy smile.
After the show, the backstage was mobbed with beautiful young women who tried eagerly to catch Rocky’s eye. Each and every lovely lass seemed more than willing to submit to the mandolin player’s merest whim. As always, Rocky declined these offers. And, as always, the rest of his band took up the slack.
The tour continued triumphantly through all the villages and cities of the land, until at last, one summer’s night, it arrived in the town where Rocky, in a simple but comfortable cottage of an honest tradesman down a well-worn lane off the main street, had been born. The mandolin player was understandably nervous as he walked onto the stage, because the audience was filled with friends and family and neighbors who had come from all around to see him play.
In the front row of the audience, Rocky recognized his father, the honest tradesman, and his mother. He waved to them. As they waved back, he also spotted the neighbor’s girl, not much older than himself. The neighbor’s girl found herself overcome by the romance of the evening. “Oh, Rocky,” she called, unable to control the longing she still felt quite distinctly, “won’t you please sing for us?”
“Aye, lad!” the potter from next door called out, just as he had so many years ago, “sing us a bonnie wee ballad.”
Rocky regarded his audience with a stony silence.
“What’s the matter?” the agent called to him from the side of the stage.
“I don’t know,” Rocky admitted, somewhat embarrassed. He strummed once or twice on his precious mandolin to give his nimble fingers a running start, then he began to sing in a clear, strong voice. His band fell in behind him. Soon, divine music filled the hall with art and beauty. People screamed and cheered. It was as if the Good Lord had taken a moment out of a busy schedule to smile down on the audience.
In every corner of the hall, people responded to the haunting melodies with thunderous applause. Rocky acknowledged their support with a wide and happy smile.
After the show, the backstage was mobbed with friends and family and neighbors from all around as well as the beautiful young women who tried eagerly to catch Rocky’s eye. The crowd milled noisily while Rocky embraced his mother and father. Then, quite unexpectedly, a beautiful girl threw herself at the minstrel and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. She kissed him with a fevered passion.
Security guards leaped to their feet, but Rocky motioned them away, for it was only the neighbor’s girl who held him in her embrace.
Overwhelmed by the evening, she had sneaked backstage to see if she could catch but one small glimpse of the object of her affections. She was weeping great tears of agony and joy, apologizing profusely for her rude behavior.
With tender kindness, Rocky dried her shining eyes with his own handkerchief. “Oh, my darling,” she purred, “I swore once I would follow you to the ends of the earth if you would become my very own.”
Rocky saw she was sincere, and realized the only thing missing from his happy life was one great love. So he got down on bended knee right then and there and asked the neighbor girl to become his wife.
The instant she answered, “Yes!” a great cry went up backstage from the beautiful young women who were there to catch Rocky’s eye. As always, the rest of his band were called upon to take up the slack.
Rocky and the neighbor’s girl were married the very next day in a joyous celebration before the tour moved on. There were several more stops, each with halls filled with excited fans who seemed even more receptive to the musicians since the news had spread far and wide that the famous melody maker had taken a wife.
“You don’t mind life on the road with me?” Rocky asked his new bride one night after a late show ended. She simply smiled and answered, “Oh, my darling, I would follow you to the ends of the earth now that you are my very own.”
Finally, the tour ended and Rocky returned to the band’s home base in the city in the sunshine by the sea with his wife. They disappeared into his luxurious suite of rooms overlooking the blue expanse of the western sea and were not seen or heard from again for many weeks.
Time passed, as time always does, and one warm morning, as the late winter’s chill was melting away, Rocky gathered all his friends together and announced he was soon to become a father. Hearty congratulations were offered to the happy minstrel, who offered to play a set for free at the local watering hole and buy the house drinks for the night, to boot.
Spring blossomed and grew into Summer. The seasons passed into Fall. Rocky and his band played a few dates in the great hall of the city in the sunshine by the sea, always to a capacity crowd. As always, after each show, the backstage was mobbed with beautiful young women who tried eagerly to catch Rocky’s eye, regardless that he was now an expectant father. It was painfully obvious every lovely lass hoped to show she was more worthy than the pregnant cow at home to fulfill the mandolin player’s merest whim.
As always, delightful as these offers often appeared, Rocky declined them, but with obviously increasing regret. As always, the rest of his band took up the slack.
Finally, Rocky’s devoted young wife gave him the gift of a twin son and daughter. The musician was very pleased.
But his agent noticed a hint of sadness in Rocky’s eyes when they left the hospital together after visiting the mother and babes. He inquired after it: “What’s the matter, kid?”
“I don’t know,” Rocky admitted, somewhat embarrassed.
“Maybe I can help,” the agent smiled. He had the look of the wolf about him, but Rocky was too distracted to notice. “You’re still very popular, kid,” the agent went on, still smiling. “I think maybe you need to take your act back out on the road, if you know what I mean.”
The agent went on to dangle images of freedom, lost innocence and gourmet meals before Rocky’s tired eyes. And before he knew it, the musician was shaking hands on a deal to put together a tour to the ends of the world.
As soon as his wife and babes were home from the hospital, Rocky set off with the band to visit all the great cities and towns abroad.
Their first stop was a grand city which was nothing like the city in the sunshine by the sea. Everybody talked foolishness and poor Rocky did not understand a word of it.
But, as always, the band found their inn mobbed by star-crazed fans waiting for them to show their faces. They spent the day hiding in their rooms until it was time to go perform.
At the appointed hour, Rocky made his way to the edge of the stage and took his mandolin from its case. He strummed it once or twice to give his nimble fingers a running start. Once his fingers found their proper places, he struck up a melody and began to sing in a clear, strong voice. His band fell in behind him. Soon, divine music filled the great hall with art and beauty.
People screamed and cheered. It was as if the Good Lord had taken a moment out of a busy schedule to smile down on the audience. The haunting melodies filled the air and mingled easily with thunderous applause.
Rocky recognized realized this attention had been sorely missing from his life. He played his mandolin with a celebration new to him, spurred on by laughter and applause which he acknowledged with a wide and happy smile.
After the show, the backstage was mobbed with beautiful young women who tried eagerly to catch Rocky’s eye. Although he did not fully comprehend the language, Rocky understood what was being offered without any confusion. Reluctantly, he declined the possibilities of delight spread before him. As always, the rest of his band took up the slack.
The tour continued triumphantly through all the villages and cities between the city in the sunshine by the sea and the end of the world. At last, they came indeed to the last stop, which was a grand city at the very edge of the world. It was nothing like the city in the sunshine by the sea, because that city was on the edge of the great blue expanse of the western sea. The city at the edge of the world was held to the shore of the massive, cold grey eastern ocean.
Everybody talked foolishness and poor Rocky did not understand a word of it. But, as always, the band found their inn mobbed by star-crazed fans waiting for them to show their faces. They spent the day hiding in their rooms until it was time to go perform.
At the appointed hour, Rocky made his way to the edge of the stage and took his mandolin from its case. He strummed it once or twice to give his nimble fingers a running start, then struck up a melody and began to sing in a clear, strong voice. His fingers found their proper places and his band fell in behind him. Soon, divine music filled the great hall with art and beauty.
After the show, the backstage was mobbed with beautiful young women who tried eagerly to catch Rocky’s eye. Although he did not fully comprehend the language, Rocky understood what was being offered to him without any confusion.
Tired of the travel, tired of the hotel food, tired of not having anybody to talk to except the rest of the band, which always took up the slack, Rocky decided to explore the possibilities of these delights. Without a second thought, he reached out to a fair young maiden with golden hair, azure eyes and magnificent, firm breasts. Her smile told him all things were possible. He meant to find out exactly what that meant.
Rocky kissed the fair young maiden gently on the lips. A fire of acceptance was there to warm him. In a bold gesture, he cupped his hand around one of the fair young maiden’s magnificent, firm breasts. She did not resist.
He led her to a small room by the side stage entrance and let her undress him there. But just as she was about to fulfill his deepest desires, the door of the room swung open and two women screamed.
One of the screaming women was the fair young maiden. The other was his wife.
“What are you doing here?” Rocky said before he could think about it clearly.
“Oh, my darling,” his angry bride replied, “I promised to follow you to the ends of the earth now that you are my very own.”
With that, she turned around and walked away.
Finally, the tour ended and Rocky returned to the band’s home base in the city in the sunshine by the sea. But, sadly, his wife was not there in his luxurious suite of rooms overlooking the blue expanse of the western sea. Instead, there was a note, signed by her hand. This is what it said:
“I’m suing you for divorce and I’m keeping custody of the children.
My lawyer will be in touch with your lawyer.
Then I will be in touch with your money.”
The divorce was a long and messy affair, overblown by half by a delighted scandal-sheet press. In the end, Rocky lost everything he’d worked so hard to win. His ex-wife got most of the property and the money. The lawyers got the rest.
His band went back out on the road without him while the trial dragged on, but the audiences were gravely disappointed and started to melt away.
One night, Rocky returned to the great hall of the city in the sunshine by the sea. The auditorium was quiet. Everybody had gone home. He made his way to the edge of the stage and took his mandolin from its case. He strummed it once or twice to give his nimble fingers a running start. Once his fingers found their proper places, he struck up a melody and began to sing in a clear, strong voice. Soon, divine music filled the great hall with art and beauty.
It was as if the Good Lord had taken a moment out of a busy schedule to smile.
Moral: God helps those who help themselves. But, God help those who get caught helping themselves.
