Chapter Books

Timmy hears things that no one else hears. Is he going crazy or is there something out there? If something is out there why doesn't anyone else hear it?

All work herein is Copyrighted and may not be distributed or published without the prior consent of the author. Copyright 2006, 2007. Kim Bentz. All rights reserved.

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Kim Bentz, Writer and Photographer, living in Viriginia (Washington, D.C. metro area). Graduate of Colorado Springs Christian School, Student at American Military University. Government contractor by day. 

Kim lives with her husband of 30+ years, nearly 2000 books, a great collection of jazz records, and thousands of photographs taken all over.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Magda, her husband Gerald and their son Harry became Timmy’s near constant companions. For the next several weeks, the only time Timmy was alone was in the bathroom. Even there, someone was outside of his door, singing what they called “the song of Timmy”.

No single person sang for more than two hours at a time, with the teachers and advanced students taking turns. If they were tired or their schedules interrupted, no complaints were voiced, and indeed, no resentment made its way into the music. It almost seemed as if they were all glad to have a chance to help Timmy.

During the day, always accompanied by one of the singers, Magda took Timmy for walks, Gerald and Harry took him sledding down the back hill, skating on the pond (“these ankles aren’t meant for skating,” Magda had exclaimed with a smile) or other fairly normal activities. Magda and Harry sat for hours talking with him as they played board games.

During that time, Magda revealed more and more about what they were doing, and Timmy became once again engaged in being a boy.

“We are helping you a lot now, but soon you will have to learn to sing your song for yourself.” Magda was stern for a change, her brow creased with worry. “Each one of us hears your song, Timmy, but you must learn who you really are and you must sing your own song. You must be able to shut out all the other music at times. You must learn to focus on the music you want to hear.” She sat back and stopped speaking, never drawing her eyes from his.

Timmy grew uncomfortable under her silent stare. He wanted to look away, but found that he couldn’t. Even silent, he could hear her. He began to hum what he was hearing.

Magda smiled. “That, my dear, is my song. I’m pleased you hear it, but first you must hear your own.” Pursing her lip, she appeared to come to a conclusion. “Sing,” she ordered.

“Sing what?”

Magda turned to a blond-haired girl sitting in the corner. “Shelly here is singing your song. I want you to sing it with her.”

Shelly smiled shyly at Timmy. He began to sing with her wordlessly, following her at first, then as he concentrated, he could hear the music and sing with her. He smiled. It made him think of watching movies with his mom and dad and with Eric, eating popcorn from the giant stainless steel bowl and drinking hot cocoa. He looked at Magda in surprise.

“We’re singing about the day before I got sick! We had a snow day and spent the day playing and watching movies. It was great!”

Magda smiled. “Actually you aren’t singing about that day, but what you are singing must be about your family…a very important part of anyone’s life, wouldn’t you say?” She did not expect an answer. “What you are singing reminds you of that day. It must have been really special.”

“Keep singing.”

Timmy sang with Shelly and found himself remembering his room in great detail, and the barn with all the cows, goats and chickens. He remembered the feel of itchy straw and warm feathers as he gathered eggs. He remembered the sweet taste of milk, still warm from the cow. He remembered sunny summer days and warm starry nights.

He found himself dreadfully homesick, suddenly longing for his parents, for his brother…for the farm. “Can I call my mom and dad?” Tears welled in his eyes as he looked up at Magda.

The phone rang. Eric glanced away from the TV screen at the sound, before settling back down where he lay on the couch. He heard his mother answer.


“Timmy!” Eric bolted upright before remembering that he didn’t care and reclining again.

“Let me call Dad.”

Eric listened as she opened the kitchen door and hollered for his dad.

“We’re good. Yes I’m fine. I miss you, though. I saw your friend Jared at the store, he said to say hi.” Eric couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation.

The door opened. “Your dad just came in. I’m going to hand him the phone and get the one upstairs, okay?”

“Timmy! How are you son?” Dad sounded so happy he could hear the smile on his face. “We’re all really good, but missing you. How is school?”

The conversation continued, and occasionally Eric could hear his mother from the upstairs phone, not loud enough to make out the words, but he could hear her happiness. The sound of her laughter had been missing from the house since Timmy got sick. Nothing he could do made it any better. He turned up the TV volume to drown out the conversation.

It wasn’t fair. They still had him, but his parents were so sad it was as if he had disappeared. Why was it all about Timmy? He was so angry at his brother, but he really missed him, too.

Magda smiled a sad smile as she looked at Timmy, surrounded by a circle of singers, happily taking on the phone. For nearly half an hour they had all joined in the portion of Timmy’s own song that seemed to bring him back to himself, allowing him this brief call home. She had been called before to intervene with other new students, and she knew what the stakes were. Other’s had been saved but some had been lost. She didn’t know whether they were going to save this one. They had to save this one. They were all special, but something told her this one was even more. That and…she had fallen in love with this little boy and she knew her heart would break if something happened to him.


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