Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Music Prompt every second Friday. Last week’s song was “I Ain’t YourMama” by Jennifer Lopez. I guess next time I’ll have to pick a better song, no one was interested in giving this one a go. But I should write for my own prompt at least.
Steve walked into English 311 wearing a toga and a gold spray-painted crown of leaves.
Dr. Lawerence, their English Professor, laughed at the front of the room along with some of the other students.
“Why is what Steve wearing funny?” Ambrose asked Jen, “Its not like this is some party.”
“I think it might have something to do with Julius Caesar. What about you?” Jen said dryly.
“The play we’re studying?” Ambrose’s asked. His friend, sitting behind him tittered. “Shut up, Dan,” he said.
Dan kept laughing, “How can you be reading Julius Caesar in English 311 and not understand why Steve is wearing that getup?”
Dr. Lawerence overheard his student’s conversation. He chuckled, ” ‘Beware the Ides of March,’ Ambrose. Remember what I said in Monday’s class?”
Ambrose shook his head, “Eyes of what now?”
The student’s around Ambrose and their professor laughed. Jen sighed. ” Caesar was assassinated on the ‘Ides of March.’ The seer in the play told him to ‘beware’ of it, but he was still stabbed and killed.”
“I thought Brutus murdered Caesar? Now you’re saying a seer did?”
Dr. Lawerence peered at Ambrose concerned, “Are you sure you want to major in English Literature, Ambrose?”
He looked up and shrugged. The professor sighed and returned to the front of the room. There was always one in every class.
“When you’re down and out / When you’re on the street / When evening falls so hard /I will comfort you (ooo) / I’ll take your part, oh, when darkness comes / And pain is all around / Like a bridge over troubled water / I will lay me down / Like a bridge over troubled water / I will lay me down.” – “Bridge Over Troubled Water” – Simon and Garfunkel
Wes called up to a young woman sitting on the bridge ledge.
He gulped and climbed up beside her, assessing her. She shook her head, “I’m not here to jump, it’s only peaceful up here.”
He settled beside the woman on edge. “I’m Wes,” he said, “I’m not a fan of heights. I don’t understand how you can sit here and find it tranquil.”
She laughed, “I’m Becca, Wes. Scoot back and look at everything from this gorgeous view.”
“See, the moon’s a giant light in the sky illuminating everything so the bridge doesn’t feel eerie at night. Now, look at the water below you.”
He peered down: “I see darkness, turbulence, and fear. I see a river where too many people have jumped and drowned in.”
“You see this bridge as dangerous Wes. But without the bridge, no one would get across to the otherside. Without people in our life–our friends, loved ones, God, helpful strangers –we wouldn’t make it through troubled waters.“
“Yeah, I know Becca,” he said.”It’s like the song by Simon and Garfunkel.”
“Sometimes, we help ourselves, with a little effort.”
“You stopped yourself, having every intention of jumping before you saw me,” Becca said gently.
“You saved me Becca,” Wes admitted.
She shook her head and smiled, disintegrating. He gasped, carefully, moving off the ledge onto the bridge’s walkway.