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Alfred F. Jones & Arthur Kirkland
“America’s Storage Room Cleaning”
xx… —
Wind chimes that created echoing melodies seemed to revolve around Alfred’s childhood. His older brother, Arthur— loved making them, creating the pipes and sculpting wood for them were fond memories. Alfred would watch him assemble the pieces and proudly hang them up on their porch. Sometimes Alfred’s timid brother Matthew would come out to see the wind chimes. Then they would all sit down on the porch and sit, watching as the rural field in front of them shifted along the wind. The taste of sweet iced lemonade and crunchy biscuits that usually accompanied the experience felt all too well. Almost to the point where Alfred was sick to the stomach about it.
[——]
Alfred huffed, moving some more books into his storage room. He told Toris that he would clean out this room sooner or later. But the amount of pain that had been collecting in it refrained him from making any changes.
Alfred placed the books on a nearby cabinet, he looked around the storage room, deciding to start cleaning again. However, a small glistening light caught his attention causing Alfred to slowly walk over to it. He held it up. Messy sounds emitted from the object, clanging into the wooden circle that was carefully threaded to fit in the center of the pipes. It was the wind chime. Alfred smiled, melancholy laced his expression as he watched the dusty pipes dangle, unrestful as they never seemed to find a place to stay and not cause noise.
“God, I still remember this— Arthur, Matthew and I all sitting on the porch. Listening to this.”
——
Alfred grinned, watching his older brother hold out a new wind chime.
“Alfred, would you like to hold it?”
He asked, crouching down, hands on his knees as the wind chime dangled from his finger. Alfred responded with a very eager nod, extending his small hand for Arthur to hang it on. Once he did, Alfred giggled and swung it back and forth, listening to the perfect sounds that resonated from the pipes.
“Can we put it up?”
He asked, looking up to Arthur. Arthur nodded, a soft smile turned on his lips while he picked Alfred up.
“Of course.”
They moved to the now bare porch. Arthur had previously took all of the wind chimes he’d created to sell for some more money.
He stepped close to a hook that was nailed onto the underside of the porch, letting Alfred hang the wind chime up. Noises instantly filled their senses when it was hung. Arthur sighed and took a seat, his little brother still in his arms. Alfred instantly slid away from his grasp and pulled himself onto the chair adjacent. They both listened to the music of the wind chime and the breeze that swayed in the air. Matthew would join them after a few minutes
——
Alfred stood up with the wind chime still in his hands, exiting the storage room and the house. He blew off the excess dust on the wind chime, hanging it up on a random rusty hook on the porch. Alfred stepped back and let the wind do its job. Even after so many years of being hidden in a corner of his storage room, the sounds that the wind chime made were still as beautiful as Alfred remembered it.
He took a few steps back and sat down on the chair behind him. He sat there like an old man reminiscing his younger life, eyes closed peacefully, recalling his childhood. It filled him with the same painful nostalgia that oddly failed but also succeeded in making him feel warm.
“Ahem, Alfred? I thought you were going to clean up your storage room..?”
Toris questioned, interrupting Alfred’s quite emotional moment. He opened his eyes and chuckled, gazing at his lap before looking up to the wind chime. Toris tilted his head at it, placing down the tea tray on the table next to Alfred. He took a seat next to it.
“A wind chime… it’s quite beautiful.”
Toris said in awe, admiring the skilled craftsmanship of the wind chime.
Alfred nodded, tearful eyes, adding a small “yes.”
“Who made it?”
“Ah…”
Alfred paused.
Right.
He was already dead.
The only thing from his past that Alfred would weep about.
“Oh, I apologize if I offended you, Alfred…”