An Ugly Story

By
Fred O'Bryant

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who liked to sing. She liked to sing so much that she sang nearly all the time. She sang while she was getting dressed, and she sang while she ate breakfast. She sang on the way to school, and at recess and lunch, and on her way home in the afternoon. She sang while she played and while she did her homework. She sang as she got ready for bed every night, and even while she lay in the dark waiting for the Sandman, little songs floated through her head.

All this singing irritated the little girl's father, who was a mean, terrible grouch. One day he said, "Damn you, daughter, stop that singing!"

"But papa," she replied, "I can't help myself. I'm so happy, all the songs just come out by themselves!" And she whistled a jaunty little melody as she continued to play with her doll.

"Daughter, I'm warning you," threatened the old man ominously. "If you don't stop this infernal singing, it'll go hard with you. I'll make you stop!"

"But papa, don't you like for me to sing? Aren't you glad that I'm happy? Doesn't it make you happy, too?"

The old man sneered. "Bah! One day you'll be old like me and then you'll have little enough to sing about. The sooner you learn that lesson, the better for you!" He spat.

The little girl only smiled and hummed a quiet little tune to herself. She didn't see why being old meant you had to be unhappy. And it wasn't long before she was singing once again, she was so full of happiness and the joy of Life.

In stormed her father. "Damn you, daughter, didn't I tell you to keep quiet? Now you shall regret your silly ways!" And saying this, he picked up a big stick and beat his daughter until she cried. "See how happy you are now," he laughed, as he walked away.

For a long time the little girl was quite bruised and sore, and she felt rather bad. Then she sang a little song and that made her feel a little better. Song often helps one to feel better, she knew, so she kept singing quietly. Before long, she felt almost as good as new.

But her mean old father would never leave her alone. Whenever he would catch her singing, he would threaten her, or whip her, or throw hard and heavy things at her. Once, he even held her down in the wash tub and made her sing under the soapy water until she nearly drowned.

All of these things hurt the little girl very much. At first, she could make herself well by singing softly to herself, but as her father punished her more and more and in worse ways, it became harder and harder for the little girl to make herself feel happy afterwards. Finally one day, she simply didn't care any more, and she quit singing. She never ever sang again.

Years went by. The little girl grew up, and her father became a very old man. One day, as he lay in his bed, he realized he was dying. He called for the doctor but the doctor couldn't help. Medicine didn't do any good. The old man ached and hurt all over, but nothing could comfort him.

At last, he remembered how his mother used to sing to him when he was a little boy whenever he was sick. He remembered how the sweet sound of her voice and the happy words of the song always helped him feel better.

So the old man called his daughter to his bedside. "Daughter," he said, "do you remember that happy song your grandmother taught you years ago, when you were just a little girl? It used to comfort me so, when I was sick. Sing it for me now, won't you?"

She answered, "I can't, papa."

"What? Why, of course you can! You remember how it goes! I remember how you used to sing it all the time. You sang so well. Please sing it for me now, for I am dying and it will ease my weary soul," he pleaded.

"I can't, papa. I've forgotten how to sing."

"Oh dear child! You used to sing so well! Sing for me now, for my grave is near and I need comfort."

The woman shook her head. "I can no longer sing. You made me stop. I haven't any songs left to sing. I see that Life is hard and bitter, and there is nothing left about which to sing."

The old man died, a look of horror in his eyes, his soul and body filled with pain. For a long time his daughter stood beside her father's body, staring at its contorted, lifeless face. She felt neither pain nor joy, neither relief nor loss. She felt nothing at all. Finally, she turned and silently walked away.

THE BITTER END