WHY HAVE YOU STAYED BEHIND?
Raymond Cook
Every Sunday morning just past 9am, I'd arrive at the Longbranch Cemetery to mow the grounds. This morning though I would discover would be very different. For near a headstone which showed a child's face, I stopped to take a break. After a few moments, I crawled over to the headstone to rub off some of the moss and mold, to read the words. Her name was Martha, and she died on May 17, 1900 of small pox, a deadly disease back then. I didn't stay there much longer beyond saying softly, "I'm sure your mommy and daddy love and miss you very much!"
I went about my job, and by afternoon the grounds looked good as new! It was then that for no particular reason, I looked up towards Martha's grave near a tall oak tree. I was startled, as I saw a small child standing next to the headstone. She had beautiful long wavy blonde hair, and looked about seven years old. She wore a dress like the ones I saw on Little House On The Prairie TV series. She was looking down at the words I had read, then she turned and looked directly into my eyes. Her eyes looked so sad, that I felt tears rolling down my cheeks. I was over come with a feeling of helplessness for her.
As she watched me walk slowly toward the wrought iron gate of the cemetery, she raised her tiny hand and shook her head no! In the time it took to blink tears away, she touched her headstone and vanished. I opened one side of the gate, and made my way back up the hill to her grave. When I reached her resting place...I kneeled down and whispered; "Why have you stayed behind, my little one?" I sat there on the cool green grass, as the wind blew fall leaves to the ground. Each leaf glistened as it was caught in the sun light, resembling angel's descending from heaven. My heart was heavy, realizing such a small child had passed away! She must be lost! She doesn't know what to do or where to go since she died.
I wish, I wish, I wish, I cried, I wish I could have held her, and tried to comfort her. I wanted to show her she wasn't alone. She lingers in this cemetery, a place that doesn't offer her peace or comfort. Maybe she is waiting for her parents to come and take her home with them? I felt as helpless as she felt, but what could I do? As I began to stand, I touched her headstone softly and whispered, "I'll come back tomorrow Martha, with a surprise for you."
When I returned the next day, I wasn't alone. I had searched that afternoon from one second hand store, to another until I found what I had been looking for. I found a Raggedy Ann doll. It had been well cared for, probably kept in someone's hope chest. It was my hope that Martha had such a doll as this one. I had seen alot of western movies where a small child had a Raggedy Ann doll, just like this one! I couldn't think of any other gift that might bring some comfort to her. When I parked my truck in front of the cemetery the next day, I smiled. But by the time I had sat down next to Martha's headstone there were tears once more in my eyes. But they were good tears.
Often times when a child has been hurt or is frightened, a stuffed animal is just what they need to hold! I propped up the doll against her headstone as I felt a smile come across my face. I spoke to Martha, as if she were there beside me. I talked about some of my childhood memories, times when I felt alone. Times when I cried. I told her that I had brought a friend. A friend who would love her and never leave her.
Someone she could talk to and play with, and that it was a gift from me. I stood up and leaned down and kissed her headstone softly, wiped my eyes and whispered, "Good-bye Martha!" I had almost reached my truck, when suddenly, I heard the sound of a child giggling. I turned quickly around and watched as Martha hugged her doll! I could have sworn there were tears in her eyes, as she smiled down at me and waved at me before she disappeared.
Several days later, I stopped at the small white country church, with a pastor’s house attached to the back side. I had never attended Pastor John's services because I lived in a near-by town. I felt very nervous about trying to find a way to explain to the Pastor what I had seen in his cemetery. But I was equally nervous about what his response would be! Would he even believe me? I stepped out of my truck and hesitated. I was about to get back into my truck and leave, when the front door of the church opened. He wasn't quite the Pastor I expected to see, dressed in bib overalls, with a paint can and brush in his hand. He sat them both down, smiled, and made his way down the church steps to greet me.
"My name is Pastor John my friend, welcome," and he shook my hand firmly. I could tell by his hand shake that he was no stranger to hard work. I told him my name was Raymond, and that his wife had hired me to mow the cemetery once a week. With a sparkle in his eyes, he nodded, and motioned for me to follow him. "I've got a pitcher of ice tea, Raymond. By the warmth of the sun, I'd say we could both use a glass"; and he laughed. He spoke to me with gentleness, a man of wisdom. I followed behind him as we made our way through the small church and into his office. Pastor John poured two glasses and handed me one and I thanked him, as he motioned for me to take a chair. "I'm so glad to have your help Raymond, mowing the cemetery lawns just takes my breath away," he said with a smile.
His office was a plain and simple one, with a large painting of Jesus, hanging next to the window looking out at the cemetery. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about Pastor, there's a problem." He looked at me with concern, then curiousity, but remained silent. “While I was working next door yesterday, well…" then he watched my eyes begin to water. His eyes grew wide with concern, and he began to speak. "You must have seen her too, the little girl, you saw my Martha?" Tears of relief flowed down my cheeks and his, as I nodded unable to speak.
Pastor John pulled a red checkered handkerchief from his back pocket and wipes his eyes. "Martha was six years old when she died of small pox, Raymond. Her mom and dad, and many neighbors left this area to escape the disease. I've got relatives buried in this cemetery Raymond. Martha isn't kin to me, but she is a lost soul! I have tried to speak to her, I have prayed for her. Still she lingers in our cemetery, and my spirit has suffered."
"I haven't told my wife about Martha, nor anyone else. I was beginning to think that I was the only one who could see her." When Pastor John was finished, he took a deep sigh. He looked like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders. I told him of my encounter with Martha and of the doll that I had brought to her. In a moment, he spoke. "God bless you Raymond!" We both were silent for a moment, perhaps lost in thought. Then, I asked him a question. "How can we guide Martha home to Jesus?"
As Pastor John walked over to the window, facing the cemetery, he paused. He looked deep in thought, searching for an answer. Then, he turned to me, his eyes a bit teary and spoke. "Martha, bless her spirit, has made you her friend. Something I have tried to do for a long time, and failed. Could you visit her now and then Raymond, maybe she will speak to you?" I nodded to him as I stood looking out the same window. "Children have always found a soft spot in my heart, Pastor John."
I looked into Pastor John's smile with a look of confusion. Pastor, I don't know what to say to Martha, or what passages to quote? He just smiled widely at me, placing his hand on my shoulder, as he spoke. "God's blessed you with a gift Raymond, with work left undone. Go to Martha, my friend, for God will show you he needs you to do." As I took in his words, I heard the distinctive sound. It was a VW bug, and his wife was pulling into the drive way. Pastor John beamed a smile, "my wife Amy is home, mum's the word!"
I looked at him, nodded, and laughed as we walked outside to meet her. When she saw him step out onto the church porch, I heard her say to Pastor John, "I thought you'd be finished painting"; as she laughed with playful eyes. "Hi Raymond. My you have made the Cemetery so nice, it's been needing care for a long time, and well; there's just so much to do for John. I hope John hasn't been preaching too much today, he loves the lord," she said with a warm smile.
"No mam, I answered, we've only been talking a short time, but I do need to go and get to my afternoon landscaping job," I told her. "But I'll be back tomorrow to do a little extra work." Pastor John's smile grew wide, as wide as mine, as I headed for my truck. His wife, looked first at her husband, then to me, wondering with that deer in the head lights look, what we might be up too.
I didn't sleep well that night, no, I tossed and turned. I kept thinking of that sad little girl. I was growing attached to her. What hope did I have of becoming close to her? Of talking to her? More important, would she or could she talk to me? What could I say to Martha that would ease her pain? Why hadn't she found the path, leading her back to Jesus' arms? So many questions came to mind, I just couldn't fall asleep. Pastor John left it up to me to guide her on her way. So I got out of bed, turned the light on, and wrote down my thoughts.
Like a candle's light glowing in the darkness of the night, suddenly I had an idea on how I might be able to help Martha. The morning's sunrise came all too soon for me. But I had an idea, a plan and hoped to see Martha again. Perhaps, she would allow me to see her, perhaps not. As I pulled out of my driveway, I stopped at the only jewelry shop in town. I browsed through gold chains of every size and price range which had a cross on them. I finally did settle on one I felt would fit her, one I hoped she'd like. I asked the jeweler if he did engraving, and he said yes.
I asked him what it would cost to engrave the name Martha on the back of the cross and when it might be ready? He told me, engraving with the purchase was free, and that it would be just a few minutes. When finished, I looked it over, and I smiled, it looked beautiful. On my way out of town, I stopped at McDonald's and had 2 sausage egg McMuffins without cheese, and a medium coke. I glanced down at the gold cross necklace, boxed, and wrapped in brightly colored balloon wrapping paper, and I felt so good. Fall was here, and the leaves on the road were gold, reddish brown and yellow.
When I arrived at the Longbranch cemetery, the sun shone brightly. As the leafs fell slowly to the ground, they were caught in the glint of sunlight, looking like angels descending from heaven. I sat next to Martha's headstone for hours, and I felt that she wasn't going to appear. Then, I heard the distinctive giggle of a small child, and I felt my own smile grow. The sound came from behind me and I turned my head around and saw Martha, smiling so bright a small, as she was waving her tiny hand hi!
My eyes shined and my smile grew wide when I saw Martha. She was hugging her doll tight and waving excitedly. It was if I were her dad, who she hadn't seen in a long time. She almost ran into my arms, but she stopped, and sat down near me. She was so close to me, I could have reached out and touched her. In every way, she looked just as if she were alive, an ordinary little girl. "I'm so glad you came to visit again," she giggled. She said with laughter as she looked down at her doll, "see, I told you he'd come back," and we both laughed. "I named her Becky, do you like her name?"
So, you gave her a name already, Martha, and her face was beaming with delight as she nodded her head! "Well, I think that's a fine name for a pretty doll," and she looked like the happiest girl I'd ever seen before! It was then, that her eyes spotted the small box, wrapped in pretty balloon wrapping, and then, she looked at me with curiousity. "Tell me, tell me, you brought me another present Raymond," and she could barely sit still when I said, "I sure did Martha." I couldn't hold back my tears of joy, as they rolled down my cheeks one after another. She looked at me with sad eyes, then to the present, and asked me, "why are you crying?"
As I wiped my eyes, and blinked, I told her; "it's hard to explain. But before we talk, little one, here, this is for you," and I placed the box on her lap. She eagerly pulled at the wrapping with small hands, and I laughed as colored paper was flying every where. Then she paused, as she held the long narrow box in her hands, hesitating. Then I said, "well, go ahead, open it up, peek inside," and she giggled as she pulled the top off. As the lid came off, tears filled her eyes as she whispered, "oh my, it's so pretty!" She held the necklace in her tiny hands and rubbed the cross, as I said, "go ahead, turn it over and see what is written?" With the curious innocence that makes kids a delight, she turned over the gold cross and held it close to her eyes as she spoke her name out loud!
In broken words, between tears, she tried to smile as she told me that she had been so lonely, for so long, and then, I brought her Becky, and now, this pretty necklace! Then suddenly, she climbed up into my my lap, so unexpectedly and hugged my neck tight, and said "thank you so much," and I cried too, telling her it was alright. And for that brief moment, I forgot that Martha was a spirit of a little girl.
It was the perfect time to say the perfect words, but I was an imperfect man, and I had no words to say to her. Instead of talking, I waited till Martha finished sharing a long missed hug. When she let go, I expected her to go back where she had sat, but she didn't. She stayed there in my lap, looking into my eyes, with such a warm innocent smile, that reminded me of Shirley Temple. Then, impatiently, she said, "well, aren't you gonna help me put it on?" I felt embarrassed, having not asked her first, and I said, "of course Martha, turn around for me," and she did. In a moment the clasp was hooked, and I felt her pull gently on the cross as she looked down at it.
She hugged me one more time, then she left my arms and sat down next to Becky and picked her up. Martha was showing Becky her necklace, as I began to speak. But before I began, I looked over at the church, I saw Pastor John looking at me, but he looked very different. Then, Pastor John moved away from the window, and I turned my attention back to Martha. I was tongue tied, searching for the right words, but realized there were no perfect, easy words to say what I wanted to say. “Martha, can I talk to you for a minute, it's real important?" She looked up from Becky, nodded, watching intently. As she fingered the cross, I began to speak.
You know why your momma and dad went away don't you Martha? Gone was the sparkle in Martha's deep blue eyes. All she did was nod at first. "Everyone was getting sick, and I was very sick, I remember." Everyone was leaving town, and I didn't want them to go away. I didn't want my dad and mom to leave me, and her voice, trembled, and she broke into tears. My heart was breaking as she crawled back into my arms, and I rocked her. "I have been waiting for them to come back and take me with them,” she said, and I felt warm tears soak my shirt as her head rest on my shoulder. When she quieted down, it was my turn to speak.
I'm glad you remember when you were very sick Martha, it was a time when many were sick. Many of them didn't get better, they died and were buried here. I waited a moment to let those words sink into Martha's thoughts. "Martha," I said, as my tears fell upon her, "the reason mom and dad haven't come back to take you with them, is because, because you couldn't get better, you died!" Then, I heard her softly say sadly, "I know," was all she said as she hugged me tighter. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes, there were no words she or I could find.
Then she looked up into my eyes and her expression was so heart wrenching, a plea to help her, and I didn't know anything I could do for her. I whispered, "Martha, why have you stayed behind? Didn't you see an angel, a light, a stairway someone to show you the way to heaven?” She just shook her head no. Can you help me Raymond? "Can you help me go to heaven?" All I could say to her was, "I'm so sorry hun, I don't know what to do." It was then, that I heard Pastor John's gentle voice, and we both looked up and saw him. There was a glow all around him, and I knew now what happened at the window. He had a heart attack, and had died.
"It's okay Martha, come take my hand, I know the way to heaven." There were tears in our eyes as she looked at Pastor John, then to me as she spoke. "I will miss you Raymond, very very much." As I cried, I told her I would miss her with all my heart. She climbed down, picked up Becky with one hand and took Pastor John's hand with her other hand. I waved to both of them, as they said good-bye, for the stairway to heaven had opened above them.
© 2002 Raymond Cook (All rights reserved)
Analysis of Plot
In Raymond Cook’s short story “Why Have You Stayed Behind?”, the story begins with an exposition. Exposition is the beginning of the story where the characters and the setting are revealed. Paragraph 1 tells about the setting of time which is Sunday morning, and setting of place which is Longbranch Cemetery: Every Sunday morning just past 9am, I'd arrive at the Longbranch Cemetery to mow the grounds. This morning though I would discover would be very different. That sentence also tells the characterization of the main character as someone who is hired to mow the grass in the cemetery. It is also mentioned the characterization of the supporting character, Martha: Her name was Martha, and she died on May 17, 1900 of small pox, a deadly disease back then. (paragraph 1), and She had beautiful long wavy blonde hair, and looked about seven years old. She wore a dress like the ones I saw on Little House On The Prairie TV series. (paragraph 2).
Then, it comes the rising actions. This is where the events in the story become complicated: …she touched her headstone and vanished. (paragraph 3). The raising action is also mentioned in other paragraph: I had almost reached my truck, when suddenly, I heard the sound of a child giggling. I turned quickly around and watched as Martha hugged her doll! (paragraph 7).
The story is interspersed by the foreshadowing. Foreshadowing is the use of clues or hints or warnings to suggest events that will occur later in the plot. The first clue comes up when the main character, Raymond, realizes that Martha is a linger spirit: She must be lost! She doesn't know what to do or where to go since she died. (paragraph 3). The clue is also mentioned on paragraph 4: Maybe she is waiting for her parents to come and take her home with them? The other clue is mention on the dialog between Raymond and Pastor John: “Could you visit her now and then Raymond, maybe she will speak to you?” … "Children have always found a soft spot in my heart, Pastor John." (paragraph 13). Also, there is a clue on paragraph 14: "God's blessed you with a gift Raymond, with work left undone. Go to Martha, my friend, for God will show you he needs you to do."
In this story, there are internal conflicts. The conflicts happen because Raymond has a struggle within himself about Martha. He must make some decision about what he has to do about Martha’s spirit. The first conflict comes up when he sees Martha for the first time. He wants to help but he feels he can not: I was over come with a feeling of helplessness for her. (paragraph 2) and I wish, I wish, I wish, I cried, I wish I could have held her, and tried to comfort her. I wanted to show her she wasn't alone. (paragraph 4). The next conflict is when Raymond feels confuse about telling Pastor John about Martha: I felt very nervous about trying to find a way to explain to the Pastor what I had seen in his cemetery. But I was equally nervous about what his response would be! Would he even believe me? (paragraph 8). Raymond’s question to Pastor John is the key of the conflict: "How can we guide Martha home to Jesus?" (paragraph 12). Raymond is so confuse that he even can only ask question without saying it: Pastor, I don't know what to say to Martha, or what passages to quote? (paragraph 14).
The internal conflict is also happened within Pastor John. He feels powerless of Martha’s lingering: “...I have tried to speak to her, I have prayed for her. Still she lingers in our cemetery, and my spirit has suffered." (paragraph 11). His decision of not telling his wife about Martha also becomes Pastor John’s internal conflict: "I haven't told my wife about Martha, nor anyone else. I was beginning to think that I was the only one who could see her." (paragraph 12).
After coming home, Raymond still thinks about what he has to do about Martha’s spirit, which he still has conflict within himself: I didn't sleep well that night, no, I tossed and turned. I kept thinking of that sad little girl. I was growing attached to her. What hope did I have of becoming close to her? Of talking to her? More important, would she or could she talk to me? What could I say to Martha that would ease her pain? Why hadn't she found the path, leading her back to Jesus' arms? So many questions came to mind, I just couldn't fall asleep. (paragraph 17)
The meeting and whole conversation with Martha is also a struggle for Raymond. He tries to find the perfect way to tell that Martha is actually dead: And for that brief moment, I forgot that Martha was a spirit of a little girl. (paragraph 24). On paragraph 25, there is a conflict between Raymond and the circumstance: It was the perfect time to say the perfect words, but I was an imperfect man, and I had no words to say to her. Instead of talking, I waited till Martha finished sharing a long missed hug. When she let go, I expected her to go back where she had sat, but she didn't. She stayed there in my lap, looking into my eyes, with such a warm innocent smile, that reminded me of Shirley Temple. And the conflict still happens: I was tongue tied, searching for the right words, but realized there were no perfect, easy words to say what I wanted to say. (paragraph 26)
Before the story reaches the climax, there is a foreshadowing that gives a warning about the condition of Pastor John: But before I began, I looked over at the church, I saw Pastor John looking at me, but he looked very different. (paragraph 26)
Climax is the highest point of interest of the story. The climax of this story is when Raymond reveals who Martha really is: "Martha," I said, as my tears fell upon her, "the reason mom and dad haven't come back to take you with them, is because, because you couldn't get better, you died!" (paragraph 28).
The falling action happens when Martha says that she knows she is dead. Falling action comes up when the events or complications begin to resolve themselves: Then, I heard her softly say sadly, "I know," was all she said as she hugged me tighter. (paragraph 28).
However, before the resolution comes up, there is a foreshadowing: There was a glow all around him, and I knew now what happened at the window. (paragraph 29). That sentence becomes a clue that Pastor John dies.
Finally, the story is ended with a resolution or denouement: I waved to both of them, as they said good-bye, for the stairway to heaven had opened above them. (paragraph 30) as the final event of the story.
Continue reading...
Raymond Cook
Every Sunday morning just past 9am, I'd arrive at the Longbranch Cemetery to mow the grounds. This morning though I would discover would be very different. For near a headstone which showed a child's face, I stopped to take a break. After a few moments, I crawled over to the headstone to rub off some of the moss and mold, to read the words. Her name was Martha, and she died on May 17, 1900 of small pox, a deadly disease back then. I didn't stay there much longer beyond saying softly, "I'm sure your mommy and daddy love and miss you very much!"
I went about my job, and by afternoon the grounds looked good as new! It was then that for no particular reason, I looked up towards Martha's grave near a tall oak tree. I was startled, as I saw a small child standing next to the headstone. She had beautiful long wavy blonde hair, and looked about seven years old. She wore a dress like the ones I saw on Little House On The Prairie TV series. She was looking down at the words I had read, then she turned and looked directly into my eyes. Her eyes looked so sad, that I felt tears rolling down my cheeks. I was over come with a feeling of helplessness for her.
As she watched me walk slowly toward the wrought iron gate of the cemetery, she raised her tiny hand and shook her head no! In the time it took to blink tears away, she touched her headstone and vanished. I opened one side of the gate, and made my way back up the hill to her grave. When I reached her resting place...I kneeled down and whispered; "Why have you stayed behind, my little one?" I sat there on the cool green grass, as the wind blew fall leaves to the ground. Each leaf glistened as it was caught in the sun light, resembling angel's descending from heaven. My heart was heavy, realizing such a small child had passed away! She must be lost! She doesn't know what to do or where to go since she died.
I wish, I wish, I wish, I cried, I wish I could have held her, and tried to comfort her. I wanted to show her she wasn't alone. She lingers in this cemetery, a place that doesn't offer her peace or comfort. Maybe she is waiting for her parents to come and take her home with them? I felt as helpless as she felt, but what could I do? As I began to stand, I touched her headstone softly and whispered, "I'll come back tomorrow Martha, with a surprise for you."
When I returned the next day, I wasn't alone. I had searched that afternoon from one second hand store, to another until I found what I had been looking for. I found a Raggedy Ann doll. It had been well cared for, probably kept in someone's hope chest. It was my hope that Martha had such a doll as this one. I had seen alot of western movies where a small child had a Raggedy Ann doll, just like this one! I couldn't think of any other gift that might bring some comfort to her. When I parked my truck in front of the cemetery the next day, I smiled. But by the time I had sat down next to Martha's headstone there were tears once more in my eyes. But they were good tears.
Often times when a child has been hurt or is frightened, a stuffed animal is just what they need to hold! I propped up the doll against her headstone as I felt a smile come across my face. I spoke to Martha, as if she were there beside me. I talked about some of my childhood memories, times when I felt alone. Times when I cried. I told her that I had brought a friend. A friend who would love her and never leave her.
Someone she could talk to and play with, and that it was a gift from me. I stood up and leaned down and kissed her headstone softly, wiped my eyes and whispered, "Good-bye Martha!" I had almost reached my truck, when suddenly, I heard the sound of a child giggling. I turned quickly around and watched as Martha hugged her doll! I could have sworn there were tears in her eyes, as she smiled down at me and waved at me before she disappeared.
Several days later, I stopped at the small white country church, with a pastor’s house attached to the back side. I had never attended Pastor John's services because I lived in a near-by town. I felt very nervous about trying to find a way to explain to the Pastor what I had seen in his cemetery. But I was equally nervous about what his response would be! Would he even believe me? I stepped out of my truck and hesitated. I was about to get back into my truck and leave, when the front door of the church opened. He wasn't quite the Pastor I expected to see, dressed in bib overalls, with a paint can and brush in his hand. He sat them both down, smiled, and made his way down the church steps to greet me.
"My name is Pastor John my friend, welcome," and he shook my hand firmly. I could tell by his hand shake that he was no stranger to hard work. I told him my name was Raymond, and that his wife had hired me to mow the cemetery once a week. With a sparkle in his eyes, he nodded, and motioned for me to follow him. "I've got a pitcher of ice tea, Raymond. By the warmth of the sun, I'd say we could both use a glass"; and he laughed. He spoke to me with gentleness, a man of wisdom. I followed behind him as we made our way through the small church and into his office. Pastor John poured two glasses and handed me one and I thanked him, as he motioned for me to take a chair. "I'm so glad to have your help Raymond, mowing the cemetery lawns just takes my breath away," he said with a smile.
His office was a plain and simple one, with a large painting of Jesus, hanging next to the window looking out at the cemetery. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about Pastor, there's a problem." He looked at me with concern, then curiousity, but remained silent. “While I was working next door yesterday, well…" then he watched my eyes begin to water. His eyes grew wide with concern, and he began to speak. "You must have seen her too, the little girl, you saw my Martha?" Tears of relief flowed down my cheeks and his, as I nodded unable to speak.
Pastor John pulled a red checkered handkerchief from his back pocket and wipes his eyes. "Martha was six years old when she died of small pox, Raymond. Her mom and dad, and many neighbors left this area to escape the disease. I've got relatives buried in this cemetery Raymond. Martha isn't kin to me, but she is a lost soul! I have tried to speak to her, I have prayed for her. Still she lingers in our cemetery, and my spirit has suffered."
"I haven't told my wife about Martha, nor anyone else. I was beginning to think that I was the only one who could see her." When Pastor John was finished, he took a deep sigh. He looked like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders. I told him of my encounter with Martha and of the doll that I had brought to her. In a moment, he spoke. "God bless you Raymond!" We both were silent for a moment, perhaps lost in thought. Then, I asked him a question. "How can we guide Martha home to Jesus?"
As Pastor John walked over to the window, facing the cemetery, he paused. He looked deep in thought, searching for an answer. Then, he turned to me, his eyes a bit teary and spoke. "Martha, bless her spirit, has made you her friend. Something I have tried to do for a long time, and failed. Could you visit her now and then Raymond, maybe she will speak to you?" I nodded to him as I stood looking out the same window. "Children have always found a soft spot in my heart, Pastor John."
I looked into Pastor John's smile with a look of confusion. Pastor, I don't know what to say to Martha, or what passages to quote? He just smiled widely at me, placing his hand on my shoulder, as he spoke. "God's blessed you with a gift Raymond, with work left undone. Go to Martha, my friend, for God will show you he needs you to do." As I took in his words, I heard the distinctive sound. It was a VW bug, and his wife was pulling into the drive way. Pastor John beamed a smile, "my wife Amy is home, mum's the word!"
I looked at him, nodded, and laughed as we walked outside to meet her. When she saw him step out onto the church porch, I heard her say to Pastor John, "I thought you'd be finished painting"; as she laughed with playful eyes. "Hi Raymond. My you have made the Cemetery so nice, it's been needing care for a long time, and well; there's just so much to do for John. I hope John hasn't been preaching too much today, he loves the lord," she said with a warm smile.
"No mam, I answered, we've only been talking a short time, but I do need to go and get to my afternoon landscaping job," I told her. "But I'll be back tomorrow to do a little extra work." Pastor John's smile grew wide, as wide as mine, as I headed for my truck. His wife, looked first at her husband, then to me, wondering with that deer in the head lights look, what we might be up too.
I didn't sleep well that night, no, I tossed and turned. I kept thinking of that sad little girl. I was growing attached to her. What hope did I have of becoming close to her? Of talking to her? More important, would she or could she talk to me? What could I say to Martha that would ease her pain? Why hadn't she found the path, leading her back to Jesus' arms? So many questions came to mind, I just couldn't fall asleep. Pastor John left it up to me to guide her on her way. So I got out of bed, turned the light on, and wrote down my thoughts.
Like a candle's light glowing in the darkness of the night, suddenly I had an idea on how I might be able to help Martha. The morning's sunrise came all too soon for me. But I had an idea, a plan and hoped to see Martha again. Perhaps, she would allow me to see her, perhaps not. As I pulled out of my driveway, I stopped at the only jewelry shop in town. I browsed through gold chains of every size and price range which had a cross on them. I finally did settle on one I felt would fit her, one I hoped she'd like. I asked the jeweler if he did engraving, and he said yes.
I asked him what it would cost to engrave the name Martha on the back of the cross and when it might be ready? He told me, engraving with the purchase was free, and that it would be just a few minutes. When finished, I looked it over, and I smiled, it looked beautiful. On my way out of town, I stopped at McDonald's and had 2 sausage egg McMuffins without cheese, and a medium coke. I glanced down at the gold cross necklace, boxed, and wrapped in brightly colored balloon wrapping paper, and I felt so good. Fall was here, and the leaves on the road were gold, reddish brown and yellow.
When I arrived at the Longbranch cemetery, the sun shone brightly. As the leafs fell slowly to the ground, they were caught in the glint of sunlight, looking like angels descending from heaven. I sat next to Martha's headstone for hours, and I felt that she wasn't going to appear. Then, I heard the distinctive giggle of a small child, and I felt my own smile grow. The sound came from behind me and I turned my head around and saw Martha, smiling so bright a small, as she was waving her tiny hand hi!
My eyes shined and my smile grew wide when I saw Martha. She was hugging her doll tight and waving excitedly. It was if I were her dad, who she hadn't seen in a long time. She almost ran into my arms, but she stopped, and sat down near me. She was so close to me, I could have reached out and touched her. In every way, she looked just as if she were alive, an ordinary little girl. "I'm so glad you came to visit again," she giggled. She said with laughter as she looked down at her doll, "see, I told you he'd come back," and we both laughed. "I named her Becky, do you like her name?"
So, you gave her a name already, Martha, and her face was beaming with delight as she nodded her head! "Well, I think that's a fine name for a pretty doll," and she looked like the happiest girl I'd ever seen before! It was then, that her eyes spotted the small box, wrapped in pretty balloon wrapping, and then, she looked at me with curiousity. "Tell me, tell me, you brought me another present Raymond," and she could barely sit still when I said, "I sure did Martha." I couldn't hold back my tears of joy, as they rolled down my cheeks one after another. She looked at me with sad eyes, then to the present, and asked me, "why are you crying?"
As I wiped my eyes, and blinked, I told her; "it's hard to explain. But before we talk, little one, here, this is for you," and I placed the box on her lap. She eagerly pulled at the wrapping with small hands, and I laughed as colored paper was flying every where. Then she paused, as she held the long narrow box in her hands, hesitating. Then I said, "well, go ahead, open it up, peek inside," and she giggled as she pulled the top off. As the lid came off, tears filled her eyes as she whispered, "oh my, it's so pretty!" She held the necklace in her tiny hands and rubbed the cross, as I said, "go ahead, turn it over and see what is written?" With the curious innocence that makes kids a delight, she turned over the gold cross and held it close to her eyes as she spoke her name out loud!
In broken words, between tears, she tried to smile as she told me that she had been so lonely, for so long, and then, I brought her Becky, and now, this pretty necklace! Then suddenly, she climbed up into my my lap, so unexpectedly and hugged my neck tight, and said "thank you so much," and I cried too, telling her it was alright. And for that brief moment, I forgot that Martha was a spirit of a little girl.
It was the perfect time to say the perfect words, but I was an imperfect man, and I had no words to say to her. Instead of talking, I waited till Martha finished sharing a long missed hug. When she let go, I expected her to go back where she had sat, but she didn't. She stayed there in my lap, looking into my eyes, with such a warm innocent smile, that reminded me of Shirley Temple. Then, impatiently, she said, "well, aren't you gonna help me put it on?" I felt embarrassed, having not asked her first, and I said, "of course Martha, turn around for me," and she did. In a moment the clasp was hooked, and I felt her pull gently on the cross as she looked down at it.
She hugged me one more time, then she left my arms and sat down next to Becky and picked her up. Martha was showing Becky her necklace, as I began to speak. But before I began, I looked over at the church, I saw Pastor John looking at me, but he looked very different. Then, Pastor John moved away from the window, and I turned my attention back to Martha. I was tongue tied, searching for the right words, but realized there were no perfect, easy words to say what I wanted to say. “Martha, can I talk to you for a minute, it's real important?" She looked up from Becky, nodded, watching intently. As she fingered the cross, I began to speak.
You know why your momma and dad went away don't you Martha? Gone was the sparkle in Martha's deep blue eyes. All she did was nod at first. "Everyone was getting sick, and I was very sick, I remember." Everyone was leaving town, and I didn't want them to go away. I didn't want my dad and mom to leave me, and her voice, trembled, and she broke into tears. My heart was breaking as she crawled back into my arms, and I rocked her. "I have been waiting for them to come back and take me with them,” she said, and I felt warm tears soak my shirt as her head rest on my shoulder. When she quieted down, it was my turn to speak.
I'm glad you remember when you were very sick Martha, it was a time when many were sick. Many of them didn't get better, they died and were buried here. I waited a moment to let those words sink into Martha's thoughts. "Martha," I said, as my tears fell upon her, "the reason mom and dad haven't come back to take you with them, is because, because you couldn't get better, you died!" Then, I heard her softly say sadly, "I know," was all she said as she hugged me tighter. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes, there were no words she or I could find.
Then she looked up into my eyes and her expression was so heart wrenching, a plea to help her, and I didn't know anything I could do for her. I whispered, "Martha, why have you stayed behind? Didn't you see an angel, a light, a stairway someone to show you the way to heaven?” She just shook her head no. Can you help me Raymond? "Can you help me go to heaven?" All I could say to her was, "I'm so sorry hun, I don't know what to do." It was then, that I heard Pastor John's gentle voice, and we both looked up and saw him. There was a glow all around him, and I knew now what happened at the window. He had a heart attack, and had died.
"It's okay Martha, come take my hand, I know the way to heaven." There were tears in our eyes as she looked at Pastor John, then to me as she spoke. "I will miss you Raymond, very very much." As I cried, I told her I would miss her with all my heart. She climbed down, picked up Becky with one hand and took Pastor John's hand with her other hand. I waved to both of them, as they said good-bye, for the stairway to heaven had opened above them.
© 2002 Raymond Cook (All rights reserved)
Analysis of Plot
In Raymond Cook’s short story “Why Have You Stayed Behind?”, the story begins with an exposition. Exposition is the beginning of the story where the characters and the setting are revealed. Paragraph 1 tells about the setting of time which is Sunday morning, and setting of place which is Longbranch Cemetery: Every Sunday morning just past 9am, I'd arrive at the Longbranch Cemetery to mow the grounds. This morning though I would discover would be very different. That sentence also tells the characterization of the main character as someone who is hired to mow the grass in the cemetery. It is also mentioned the characterization of the supporting character, Martha: Her name was Martha, and she died on May 17, 1900 of small pox, a deadly disease back then. (paragraph 1), and She had beautiful long wavy blonde hair, and looked about seven years old. She wore a dress like the ones I saw on Little House On The Prairie TV series. (paragraph 2).
Then, it comes the rising actions. This is where the events in the story become complicated: …she touched her headstone and vanished. (paragraph 3). The raising action is also mentioned in other paragraph: I had almost reached my truck, when suddenly, I heard the sound of a child giggling. I turned quickly around and watched as Martha hugged her doll! (paragraph 7).
The story is interspersed by the foreshadowing. Foreshadowing is the use of clues or hints or warnings to suggest events that will occur later in the plot. The first clue comes up when the main character, Raymond, realizes that Martha is a linger spirit: She must be lost! She doesn't know what to do or where to go since she died. (paragraph 3). The clue is also mentioned on paragraph 4: Maybe she is waiting for her parents to come and take her home with them? The other clue is mention on the dialog between Raymond and Pastor John: “Could you visit her now and then Raymond, maybe she will speak to you?” … "Children have always found a soft spot in my heart, Pastor John." (paragraph 13). Also, there is a clue on paragraph 14: "God's blessed you with a gift Raymond, with work left undone. Go to Martha, my friend, for God will show you he needs you to do."
In this story, there are internal conflicts. The conflicts happen because Raymond has a struggle within himself about Martha. He must make some decision about what he has to do about Martha’s spirit. The first conflict comes up when he sees Martha for the first time. He wants to help but he feels he can not: I was over come with a feeling of helplessness for her. (paragraph 2) and I wish, I wish, I wish, I cried, I wish I could have held her, and tried to comfort her. I wanted to show her she wasn't alone. (paragraph 4). The next conflict is when Raymond feels confuse about telling Pastor John about Martha: I felt very nervous about trying to find a way to explain to the Pastor what I had seen in his cemetery. But I was equally nervous about what his response would be! Would he even believe me? (paragraph 8). Raymond’s question to Pastor John is the key of the conflict: "How can we guide Martha home to Jesus?" (paragraph 12). Raymond is so confuse that he even can only ask question without saying it: Pastor, I don't know what to say to Martha, or what passages to quote? (paragraph 14).
The internal conflict is also happened within Pastor John. He feels powerless of Martha’s lingering: “...I have tried to speak to her, I have prayed for her. Still she lingers in our cemetery, and my spirit has suffered." (paragraph 11). His decision of not telling his wife about Martha also becomes Pastor John’s internal conflict: "I haven't told my wife about Martha, nor anyone else. I was beginning to think that I was the only one who could see her." (paragraph 12).
After coming home, Raymond still thinks about what he has to do about Martha’s spirit, which he still has conflict within himself: I didn't sleep well that night, no, I tossed and turned. I kept thinking of that sad little girl. I was growing attached to her. What hope did I have of becoming close to her? Of talking to her? More important, would she or could she talk to me? What could I say to Martha that would ease her pain? Why hadn't she found the path, leading her back to Jesus' arms? So many questions came to mind, I just couldn't fall asleep. (paragraph 17)
The meeting and whole conversation with Martha is also a struggle for Raymond. He tries to find the perfect way to tell that Martha is actually dead: And for that brief moment, I forgot that Martha was a spirit of a little girl. (paragraph 24). On paragraph 25, there is a conflict between Raymond and the circumstance: It was the perfect time to say the perfect words, but I was an imperfect man, and I had no words to say to her. Instead of talking, I waited till Martha finished sharing a long missed hug. When she let go, I expected her to go back where she had sat, but she didn't. She stayed there in my lap, looking into my eyes, with such a warm innocent smile, that reminded me of Shirley Temple. And the conflict still happens: I was tongue tied, searching for the right words, but realized there were no perfect, easy words to say what I wanted to say. (paragraph 26)
Before the story reaches the climax, there is a foreshadowing that gives a warning about the condition of Pastor John: But before I began, I looked over at the church, I saw Pastor John looking at me, but he looked very different. (paragraph 26)
Climax is the highest point of interest of the story. The climax of this story is when Raymond reveals who Martha really is: "Martha," I said, as my tears fell upon her, "the reason mom and dad haven't come back to take you with them, is because, because you couldn't get better, you died!" (paragraph 28).
The falling action happens when Martha says that she knows she is dead. Falling action comes up when the events or complications begin to resolve themselves: Then, I heard her softly say sadly, "I know," was all she said as she hugged me tighter. (paragraph 28).
However, before the resolution comes up, there is a foreshadowing: There was a glow all around him, and I knew now what happened at the window. (paragraph 29). That sentence becomes a clue that Pastor John dies.
Finally, the story is ended with a resolution or denouement: I waved to both of them, as they said good-bye, for the stairway to heaven had opened above them. (paragraph 30) as the final event of the story.
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