Whistling Angelina

There was a little girl, who lived in the passes of the Valley who loved to whistle, and you could hear her whistling all day long. In her youth, the Village had just been settled and the people were still very superstitious so her whistling was taken as a bad omen.

Still, all day long, as she did her chores, happy tunes would float down the mountain side. She had become quite proficient and knew all the popular tunes.

When asked, she would say the whistling broke up the monotony of the day’s labor and provided her with a pleasant distraction. It was a way for her to keep her mind sharp as the weight of her chores bore down on her, even in those days, there were a few who would not buckle down into the mindless existence of constant work.

This went on for many years, and soon the people of the village began to speak of her obsession. It was decided that something had to happen to stop this flirtation with disaster, so the schoolmarm went to her and told her that whistling was an idle effort and idled people were a tool of the devil.

Angelina laughed at the thought of it. The villagers were addle brained fools, mired in their antiquated fervor’s and she had no time to wrestle with ideology.

One day on the docks a sailor came to her and told her that whistling caused the Sea to rise and angered god to bring the storms in. he told her to stop or it would be her fault if something bad was to happen.

The very next day the Annie Day sailed off to her doom. Many people in the village insinuated that it was the constant whistling that had pushed the Lord to the breaking point and cast the Annie Day down as a punishment for her disloyalty to his commandments.

From that time on, Angelina never whistled. Her spirit crushed and with no allies to aid in her defense, she gave up the giddy art of music and fell into the practiced ceremony of her daily life.

Soon the joy in her life began to fade, there was nothing in her life to save it. The lighthearted girl turned in to a dutiful wife, the wife became a mother and soon grandmother.

The weight of responsibility to husband, home and community extinguished her one joy and soon the tide of time took its toll on her youthful face.

As I said it was a long time ago and when there were opportunities to indulge in niceties, Angelina was extremely wary of the consequences. She never smiled in photos, she rarely took in drink and the socials that were held in times of bounty found her in a corner with like minded women, scowling.

Soon her joy was replaced with a new indulgence. She began to speak her mind, plainly, honestly and without mercy. She would air her opinions to whomever she pleased, when ever she pleased, without regard for anyone’s feelings or opinions of their own. It was her way to vent all the melancholy she felt for bucking under to the popular opinion.

Nature abhors a vacuum, where love is lost, odium crowd’s in. where joy is given up, sorrow absorbs the emptiness. And warmth’s absence leaves only frost in its wake.

Some can see the change, identify it and do all they can to rend back that which they have lost. Others know something has changed and they cant identify it so they leave the change be, giving themselves to the inevitable. Then there are those who see the change and with the deficiency of their integrity they find joy in their newfound polarity.

Those who take joy in the dirge of others, soon find themselves contributing to their derision, becoming that which they once scorned. They know their doing so, they simply don’t care. The pain of others becomes their joy, and so this was the fate of Whistling Angelina

Even though her intentions were fowl, her heart was still pure. She knew what she did was wrong, she just couldn’t help herself. It was an unfortunate accident of a different time, and Angelina a victim of it.

Although her outlying image was rough and sharp as a flint, she was an outstanding mother and wife. They were the saving points to her life and often fought fiercely against that which would defile them.

Time can take so much from a person, and does it in a way that most barely notice. Time took her husband one day in her parlor as he read to their grandchild. Time took her youth and the friends she had known. Time took her beloved pets, one by one in a procession of lost and new loves.

One day however, Angelina donned a very fashionable dress. She dressed her now white hair in the style of her childhood and made up her aged face. With this done, she stepped into the early morning and made her way down the passes to the Village, whistling.

At her age it took quite a long time and the tunes she whistled were all but forgotten. Those who were awake at the time stopped their work and looked about for the source and saw that little old bird, dressed in fine attire strolling through the streets.

She sat in the Park in the center of town smiling and whistling at those who would pass by. Some would set with her and talk of things long forgotten, others would hand her a drink and a smile. Still others would set and listen to her whistle, just for the joy of the music alone.

As the day progressed, the sky grew grey and a light rain began to fall. She sat whistling through the fine mist and very light rain, then pulled an umbrella as it grew heavier and watched as the people went about their affairs.

Angelina fell asleep on the park bench, in a gentle rain of Mid Point in Early Year, never to wake again. Her body was taken to the prominence where she would set as a child and whistle her tunes all day long.

To this day, people still visit her grave, family and family of friends who knew her all pass by to say hello to that ponderous girl who, even though she fell out of practice, never forgot to face the inevitable with a light heart and song on her lips.