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Beki Lantos

Songs & Stories

Updated: Jun 3, 2019




There was once a girl with a pretty little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. When she was happy, everyone was happy. And when she was mad, well, everyone knew it and felt it.


This little girl with a pretty little curl loved to use her imagination and sing. She loved creating stories with new worlds and creatures and characters within them. And for each world there were a thousand stories, and songs she would sing. Even when she was doing her chores or school work, she could be heard singing.


As the little girl grew, people became less and less interested in her songs and stories. She would often be hushed and quieted when doing her school work. In fact, it didn’t take long for her teachers and other grown ups to begin quieting her with pills. ‘This will help you’, she was told. And she believed them.


Thankfully, her creativity and love for it was strong enough to overcome the obstacles. Despite the efforts to quiet her, she continued to sing and tell her stories. But it was getting harder, and took more of her energy. To her, something was missing.


And then her friends started acting strange. Soon, they too were trying to quiet her, treating her as though there were something wrong with her. But, instead of listening to them, she blocked them out and kept singing and creating. But the feeling of something missing grew stronger, and she was starting to feel alone and isolated.


When the girl became a teenager, she was told by most of the grown ups in her life that she needed to start becoming serious. She needed to start thinking of her future. She told them she wanted to sing songs and tell stories, but they told her it wasn’t possible. The girl cried and fought but very little energy was left to continue fighting. Her songs and stories were coming less easily to her and revolved around sadness, and loneliness.


As the girl turned into a young woman, her sad stories and songs began to be about love. She wanted to feel the love she created in her songs and stories. She sought it and thought she found it with a young man. At times, they would write songs and stories together. She thought they made beautiful music together. He certainly loved it and told her so. ‘I love it so much,’ he said ‘I don’t want to share it with the world. It will be our special secret’ The young woman didn’t know much about love but what she’d created in her songs and stories, so she trusted the young man.


The world quickly turned from a moderately happy place, to one of dark and gloom. While they themselves off, all was well and happy. But in venturing back out, the young woman felt lost and afraid. When she told the young man, he smiled and caressed her cheek in his hand. ‘That’s just the reality of the world and only I can love and protect you.’

Finally, after some time, the young woman began to understand the young man wasn’t being truthful. And despite ending it, she struggled to find the will and strength to not only find her songs and stories, but to share them also. She was convinced she had to find true love. And so, on her quest she went.


Despite finding several young men who claimed to love her, all wished to silence her and keep her locked up in their prison of an unimaginative and quiet world. And as time passed, she gave in and allowed herself to believe she could be happy without her songs and stories. But, the struggle was and continues to be real for her, every day. As more and more time passes, she begins to realize she is not meant for the world or mundane and what’s expected. She is meant to write songs and stories, and share them with the world in whatever means necessary. She’s just scared because she doesn’t know if she’s meant to do it alone.


And so now, this grown girl without the pretty little curl, battles everyday with the reality she lives in, and the one she wants to create.


Ⓒ April 2019. Beki Lantos. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the author.

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