a promise to keep

7/27/2019 A Promise to Keep

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Jack had a smile that went ear to ear. And although still quite young, he almost always kept a

strong serious face about him. But with his curly dark black hair, light green eyes and a laughter that

could warm your heart, he was an endearing young man. He was a very handsome boy that was quick on

his toes. Very smart, quite bright and at the boyish age of five, his parents knew that he had a natural

talent for music. He had been introduced to many instruments in his early life, but guitar was his favorite

and before he turned eight, he was picking away at classical music as if he had written it himself. It was as

if he had an old soul inside.

Everywhere that Jack went, so would his guitar; an old six string, wooden acoustic that was

bought at a local yard sale would be seen strapped around his neck. And every day, he would take long

walks from his parents beaten old shack along the flats off of Cedar Creek Lake near Log Cabin, Texas; a

small desolate town which included very few neighbors. They lived at the end of a large piece of field, in

which his mother enjoyed long afternoons planting and picking for the evenings dinner. During the

summer heat, she would retrieve to the house where she would stay, not to be seen for weeks at a time by

the sticky heat of Texas. But come fall or spring, if you were looking, she was there. Her long brown hair

tied neatly in a bun and her hands covered in big old gardening gloves and her 1920s overalls.

Almost every day around noon, Jack could be found spending his time past the field down by the

old creek thats neck extended out to the Lake. Cedar Creek is known as one of the largest man-made

lakes in Texas. For miles and miles, you could see the mirror like darkness that was the resting ground for

cat fish, gar, snakes, turtles, frogs and many other critters that Jack just didnt want to think about when

he spent hours cooling off in the lukewarm water. During the summer months, the lake was overfilled

with jet skis and expensive speed boats that lined up along each pier in the richer section of the lake. But

Jack stuck with his regular friends that lived in Henderson County all their lives. However, he was a little

different from the rest because of his dedication and passion for playing the guitar. Most of his friends

would rather be fishing. But ever since the day he picked up his first loosely strung, over-sized Gibson,

out of tune at the time, was when he realized that he would never put it back down again. He would hear

something on the radio and be able to imitate it note for note immediately after. With never having had a

lesson, he was a true prodigy. But to practice, he would need privacy. He would head out in the morning

hours to a spot along the creek that held his favorite tree surrounded by, what he liked to think of as


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gigantic rock walls that he had complete rule over. This was his kingdom, as he could sit by that huge oak

tree and play for hours on end. Without the constant chatter of his sisters or the deep yell of his father,

Keep it down boy. I cant even hear myself think!

On this particular day, there seemed to be something peculiar in the air when Jack reached his

favorite hidden spot. Something felt different, appeared different. But he just couldnt put his finger on

it. He found one of his favorite rocks and placed down his sweater and knapsack that contained his mid-

morning snack of a peanut butter sandwich. He would have rather had a bag of chips, but peanut butter

was what his mother had packed for him. He opened his large brand new, black guitar case and lifted out

his Jumbo Acoustic guitar, one he got for his thirteenth birthday. With a sound as big as Texas, Jacks

guitar was covered with a stylish flame, maple back and sides and a solid spruce top and maple neck. He

gently leaned it up against the tree and suddenly, as he grabbed for his pick, he heard a voice quietly

speak. Play

He quickly turned to look, but nothing was there. He distinctively heard the faint hint of a

womans voice, a whisper, a gasp. It was something. He scratched his head and gave up, grabbing for his

guitar, again he heard, Play

This time, he jumped around staring at the tree. It was coming from the tree. But his better

judgment knew that this just wasnt possible. Unless He searched; he walked around the entirety of the

tree almost jumping as he turned each rounded corner. Again, he reached his original position, nothing.

Its nothing. He thought to himself.

Play, He froze in fear! Play, please play for me. the raspy voice spoke quietly.

This time, he knew that he had heard something and it was coming from that tree. With his back

facing it, he stepped ten paces forward in the opposite direction of the large curious image that casted its

shadow in Jacks direction. He slowly began to turn around to see what was causing this very human like

sound. He turned and turned catching one of his sandals on a rock and stick peering out of a hole in the

ground. He almost began to trip as his eyes met level with the face of this enormous piece of history. As

he gazed, open mouthed staring at what his mind would not allow him to understand, he could see the


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elegant image of a beautiful woman covered in what appeared to be a white robe enveloped by the trees

branches. Jack stood for a second in awe, but did not speak.

Please, do not fear me. I am only but a human, like you, cast into this dark old tree. And for as

long as it shall exist, so shall I be trapped within its confinement only to appear by the light of day. She

paused for a moment to allow Jack time to digest the situation. But the mesmerizing woman could feel

that he was more interested than scared and continued with her story. I will not hurt you as I cannot

leave the essence of this old tree and would never cause anyone harm. Never mind a musical, kind soul

like you. Jack was the first person that seemed to have the ability to see her and hear her words. And

only Jack, could she hear speak and make beautiful music.

Are you a witch of some kind? A man of magic? She spoke in a scratchy cold voice as if she

were trembling.

But Jack could only see the fainted outline of the woman trapped within the tree through the light

that shined and created her vision.

A witch? I do not believe in such silly things. Jack pronounced with his head held high. I am

but a boy that plays guitar. But what are you? Are you a witch?

Dont be silly. I am, or was but a young girl, trapped and cursed. The golden ray of light

whispered. A long, long time ago, there was an evil woman that cast me within the confinements of this

aged piece of elegant oak. She held powers of the dark and first cast a spell on my father to take over his

riches. But when I caught her, she cast this evil spell on me. She cautioned Jack, that this wicked witch

seemed to hold black magic within her.

Out of nowhere, the woman of light sang out,

I shine all day long

In the night, I retreat

To the safety of your song

Deep within the branches of this tree


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The angelic woman continued on to tell Jack the story about how she had been trapped within

this very tree for a hundred years because of this wicked womens spell.

When she was but a young girl, with eyes of emerald green and hair as soft as golden silk, she

ruled her kingdom strong. Her mothers life left her during her very own birth, leaving but a mirror image

of her own elegance and grace. Her father, Prince of all and King of nothing but their own little world,

worshipped his only begotten daughter. And for many years, they locked themselves deep within the

walls of their own home. It was their castle in the clouds and they would spend all of their time learning,

singing and playing. Music was always a very big part of their lives. She was always well read and well

played. She named off the instruments that she had learned; the piano, the flute, the violin, the cello- She

was expected to learn, as her father would lovingly suggest. You could tell from the passion of her words

that she had worshipped the time that she spent with her father.

Until the day pure evil entered their castle and entered their world. She explained how you could

feel the darkness rise and fall all at once; surrounding them in a deep fog of confusion. There was a new

maid to be hired. A wicked woman by the name of Gretta had entered their home. Her father had been

busy at work hand crafting his own special guitar that he had planned on teaching her to play, when the

womans arrival was announced. Immediately, her father was taken by the new servant he had hired. Her

long red thick locks, her delicate skin, how her eyes seemed to sparkle in the night had caught her fathers

immediate attention. Where did she come from, this seemingly perfect creature? It wasnt long before

her father had begun to spend all of his time with this new woman. Everything had seemed to happen so

quickly. And soon after they announced that they were to be married, Grettas things were to be moved

into the girls late mothers closet. After the celebration of their union, hard times began to fall upon their

humble abode.

One afternoon, the fierce red headed woman had taken a day walking in the gardens, when the

girl had come upon a book that the woman had left behind upon a shelf in the library. When she reached

for it, it opened and she could see that this was no ordinary book, but a book of evil words. When she

brought it to her father, his new wife had tried to convince him that it was his daughters and that she had

overheard her reading from a book of spells. She told him that his daughter would have to be removed at


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once. The girl choked while telling her story. But the truth be told, it was this wicked womans darkness

that was coveting their once loving space.

Jack gasped at the thoughts that swirled throughout his wildly vivid imagination. And although,

on this very day, something more than reality, more than fact, was happening right before his very eyes,

maybe there was a connection between the two of them. Maybe there was something special about the

girl in the tree and his guitar and maybe even he was special. More than special, almost chosen to be

able to see and hear this mystical creature that was, is and speaks before him, to him. He noticed that he

was not nervous at all. He had placed his guitar upon one of the rocks and sat down to listen eagerly. He

still could not believe his eyes, but he had seen stranger things on the television, why not hear what she

was saying.

One year to day after her father and his new wife had wed, the girl had gone into one of the empty

stone rooms in the lower section of what was left of their home-made castle and found the wicked woman

standing over a witchs pot; a big black caldron. In her right hand was the girls fathers precious family

ring and as she watched in fear, the old witch threw it into the pot along with some kind of dead animal

carcass and some other ingredients while chanting a demon like curse. When Gretta noticed the girls

presence, she raised both hands and shouted her name three times. She spit into the pot and threw in a

necklace that was given to the girl for her thirteenth birthday. It had been her mothers broche and her

father had given it to her to keep with her always, as a memory. It was now gone. And that was when she

began to feel kind of different. She became quite dizzy, light headed and felt as if she was beginning to

slip away.

I could feel my feet begin to float and suddenly I was in another world. I was in complete

blackness. Forever, it seemed. But it was only a night.

Upon sunrise, she could see again. And when she could finally see, there she was. To forever face

that one spot along the creek, only to be interrupted by the occasional passer byes. She came to realize

that Gretta, the wicked woman that had played her father so well, had planned it all along. And what had

become of her poor old father once she was cast away to new lands, she would never find out. That evil

witch had cast her spell, encaging the girl into one of nature's strongest life forms- something that would


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live a very long time, as so she may suffer for a very very long time in a frozen state. And there she

remained, for eternity, crying her silent tears. With only the ability to hear music, Jacks music. There had

been others over the years that had sat upon those very same rocks when the sun was bright, but they

could not hear her whispers, nor could she hear their words. Until Jack stumbled upon and she could

hear the beautiful music that he could so easily maneuver. Until that fated day, she was cursed with

silence as well.

She explained that her only comfort was on the days that Jack would come and play. She

promised that if he would continue to do this, that his successes would be plentiful throughout his life.

Although I am not a witch, I do hold powers as well. And if you promise to play for me, I will

promise you a life of success. A life of power. She giggled enticingly.

A life of power? Jack asked. But what if I dont want power? What if I just want to play my

guitar? He asked as he slumped forward with head in hands. What was happening here? This could not

be real. This could not be happening, he thought to himself.

Oh, but my sweet sweet boy, it is happening, she read his thoughts. And if you can make me

this one promise, I will help you find happiness and health, success and wealth, a family, a dog and a bird.

You will enjoy every moment of your life, if you would only kindly promise me this one special wish. She

smiled gently at the young boy.

Again, she sang out;





Okay, now youre creeping me out lady. Like Im going to make a promise to some chick that

glows, hanging out in some big old oak tree in the middle of East Texas! Not! Jack exclaimed with a silly

boyish grin across his face. Thinking he had got the better of her.


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My mother taught me better than that! And with this statement Jack jumped around the old

oak tree, half expecting to find a camera or one of his younger sisters with a tape recorder.

Gotcha! He screamed! But nothing was there. And when he walked around to the very back of

the tree, he could no longer see the lady of light within the branches. He paused for a moment. See, he

thought to himself, nothing. I was imagining the whole thing. He scratched his head, trying to reassure

himself.

And as he began to walk around to the very front of the tree, he began to see the glowing golden

light stretched out from the front of its trunks. His shoulders fell back and his head fell down and he

thought he might be going crazy.

You know, Jack began to speak, We had an uncle once that was locked away. My mom said he

used to eat his shoes. Seriously, eat them for dinner. Hed put them on a plate and everything Jack

was amusingly talking mostly to himself.

Listen boy, we do not have very much time left in the day. Make me a promise that you will come

back when the sun shines and play for me and I will help you play the sweetest of music. The woman in

the tree spoke earnestly.

But I can already play. Jack was growing impatient for a boy barely having reached the age of

thirteen.

Come boy, come closer and I will reveal what your life will be like. Jack edged closer to the big

old tree and suddenly, he could see himself playing for hundreds of thousands of people, writing his own

music, recording. Everything he had been thinking of since the day he picked up his first guitar.

My only comfort is that of when I hear you play. Promise me this one promise and you will play

the sweetest of music for the rest of your life. She whispered.

Jack agreed, as he said he would.

Upon their agreement, she whispered these words once again...




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Jacks only thought was that he was giving pleasure to a woman that could never receive it on her

own. She would never be able to play again and he wanted to be able to play for her. The riches and

success were of no concern to him at this time. He only wanted to bring joy to the woman by playing his

music. This kind of compassion would help him through-out his life.

He left that day after playing until sundown for the woman in the tree. He watched as the lighted

shadow of her serious face grew relaxed and he could see that she was able to enjoy even the few moments

of music that he gave to her. He also realized that his playing was ten times what it had already been. He

was playing intricate pieces that no one else could touch, easily, without pressure. His success would be

great, but he had to always keep his promise. And as time grew on, his days by the tree were not only

filled of music, but of long talks with his beautiful muse made of light.

For the rest of Jacks life, he kept his promise. Until the day came that he had grown quite old and

he retired in the very home that he was raised in. As the woman had promised, his time had been filled

with a beautiful family, a successful career writing and playing music and living a long and prosperous

life. As every day, Jack would succumb to the comfort and love he gained for the moments that he spent

with the woman in the tree. And felt empty at the end of his life, when he could no longer walk and reach

the very comforts that made up his success and filled him with happiness.

When he passed away, he had been holding on to that very same guitar, worn, torn, beat up and

used. That beautiful maple acoustic that he had used throughout the many years when visiting his one

favorite spot, had still made the sweetest of sounds. Suddenly it dropped to floor, as Jacks life slipped

through the empty fingers of existence. When the guitar hit the ground, a note had fallen out.

It read

To the woman that I have always loved

To the tree that made me be

My respect from the stars above

For thou art my muse


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a promise to keep

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