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+ 2	My Days
0	Joe
0	Billboards
+ 5	Is Sarah There?
+ 3	Two Ships
+ 4	The Man With the Top Hat
+ 4	I Want...
+ 4	Dear Teacher,
+ 4	Tears From Heaven
+ 3	A Vow to Not do the Same
+ 8	Unwanted Information
+ 6	Depression
+ 17	Typical American Love
+ 5	Abstract Betrayal
+ 5	Fall
+ 5	Interview of Emily Hamil
+ 5	A Dream for the Future
+ 7	IF i COULD ONLY BE ACHILLES
+ 6	Our Puzzle
+ 8	The Photograph

Is Sarah There?

Creative

Created on 5-25-07

Views(85)

Story Rating G

Mr.Martin grabs his roses, and slams the door to his old Buick, and looks up towards the tan house before him. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out a red and white cloth. He presses it to his forehead, and wipes away the moisture caused by such a hot July day. His old hands tremble has he folds the cloth back up and returning it to his pocket. He starts walking towards the house his old body shaking. He gets to the beige door, removing his hat he knocks lightly. Inside the house as Mr. Martin waits the Donnelly family is busy making lunch. " I really hope that is not Mr. Martin", Mrs, Donnelly says. She walks to the door wiping her hands off on a kitchen towel. She peers through the door, and realizes it is Mr. Martin. She sighs deeply, and slowly opens the door. "Hello Ma'am, I am here for Sarah. Is she home?" Mrs. Donnelly sighs once again, and pauses for a few moments. " Mr. Martin, as I have told you for months, there is no Sarah here. My family has lived here for two decades. I am sorry Mr. Martin, there is no Sarah here. Please have a good day." She wiped her hands off again, and closed the door in Mr. Martin's face. " Oh , ok...I see." Mr. Martin says lightly. He replaces his knit cap back on his gray hair, and stumbles back to his car, and drives away. Back in the house with the Donnelly family Mrs. Donnelly is just finishing up with sandwiches for everyone. " That Mr. Martin comes here day after day looking for a Sarah woman. I don't really know what to do. " She sits at the table, and joins everyone eating the sandwiches. "Its really kind of sad", Debbie said. She is the youngest daughter out of the three. "Mr. Martin doesn't even know where he is going. He should be in a home to help him though the rest of his life. I don't even agree with the fact that he is still driving." Gramma Donnelly said. Her gray locks freshly curled at the beauty parlor. " I remember what happened to poor old Sarah McCalister. It was 1945, and the night life was brilliant. The beer was running, and sex was in the air. Shoot, we didn't really have to worry about deseases back then. Oh, and dancing, everyone was dancing. " she giggled as she sipped on her water. "Georgie Martin ran a ride down at Rosie's Harbor. A quant little ride and game park. Sarah, a poor girl from Delhi was here to get a better life. Her mother , and father divoced due to infedilities, and neither had a job. At that time they were forced by judges orders to go into alchohol rehab. So little cute brunette,blue eyed, freckle faced Sarah McCalister was here , and she was here to stay. She was a head turner. Well one day she and a bunch of her friends were visiting the Harbor, and Georgie saw her. He asked her out, and she rejected him to make the story short. Well, christ you would think that would be it right? NO, Georgie would come to this very house every day with a few roses, and ask for her. Every day, Sarah would come up with a new excuse to why she couldn't date him. Her stomach hurt, headaches, her hair hurt" she laughed. " Well, one day Georgie came to this house as normal, and he tripped on Sarah's little sisters roller skate. He fell and sprained an ankle. Well, seems Sarah felt sorry for ole' Georgie so she comforted him on the sidewalk right there" she started pointing at the front steps just outside the door. "Well what happened then?" Debbie asked. "Well, he took advantage of the situation. I mean the guy was as persistant as hell. Everyday he was here, and everyday he was rejected. She agreed to go out on a date with him, as long as he agreed to stop comming to the house all the time. He agreed, and they set their date for the next Friday evening at eight O' clock. He couldn't have been more excited that man. Georgie went home, and he waited out every minute of every day for Friday to come. Then the big day arrived, and put on his nicest suit. The gray one that his aunt Mildred gave to him on his seventeenth birthday. He was looking sharp that boy. So he pulled up the the tan house in his brand new Buick. He pulls out his roses, and he with confidence walks to the door. He knocks boldly, and waits. Minutes pass, yet no one comes to the door. He knocks again. Hearing footsteps he feels relieved. Sarah's father opens the door. I must say that that man was beautiful."she laughes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah", Grampa Donnelly bellows. "Ha, ha, ha, anyways, he is shaking his head sadly, and says that Sarah had died earlier in the day. Come to find out, Sarah had some kind of blood desease that doctors were just learning about. She didn't even know about it herself. "Oh gosh, that poor man" Mrs, Donnelly says. "What luck ole' Georgie has to have this woman he was chasing after die on the day they were supposed to get together! Anyways, it was the talk of this small town for months. Georgie hid from the world for a few years. I do think he tried to marry once, but it didn't work out. I also think he had his eyes set on Sarah. Who knows? He is to old and senile now to even know what he is doing. He thinks he is back in that time again. He thinks he is twenty-three again. Poor guy. "What will happen to him?" Mrs. Donnelly asked. " He will come back tomarrow, and the next day after that. He thinks they have a date Friday." Gramma Donnelly said. The Donnellys finished their lunch and the day passed like any would. The next day came, and Mr. Martin never showed. The first time in weeks he failed to show. He passed away that Friday at 8:00. The following Friday a dozen roses were sent to the tan house that the Donnellys lived in. Every Friday for a whole year, and even though Mr. Martin was gone, everyone knew exactly who was sending them.

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