Museum of Old Beliefs by I. Peter Lavan (classic books for 7th graders .TXT) 📕

ahead. She caressed him as best as she could, bringing childhood peace back, the childhood peace she had brought in to his first six years of life.
“I’m here, I’m here for you now.”
The words worked, he relaxed, his breathing eased.
“Why did you go?”

The peep decreased, the trace decreased.

“I had to go, I stayed as long as I could, I fought for you and dad, but in the end there was nothing I could do, I had to go.”
The boy thought for a while, his mother calmingly close.
“I didn’t want to forgive you for leaving.”
“I know that’s why I’m here now.”
“Mum I don’t want to leave dad all alone… he’ll never forgive me.”
“He already has.”

The peep decreased… the trace decreased.
“Did you forgive the man?”
“Not at first darling, but grandma came like I have and told me. ‘To forgive others makes you strong, to forgive yourself allows you to move on, be your true self…’ Do you forgive me?”
The boy whispered quietly. “I already have.”

The peep… decreases… the trace …decreased.

She waits, watching the turmoil in her son and as he searches, his mind becomes peaceful.
“I’m not frightened anymore, I’m ready.”
She smiles the smile she used to share with her two ‘boys’.
“It’s time to leave sweetheart.”
For a crack in time the room quietens, the boy reaches over and touches his dad’s hand. The man wakes, as the first of many tears tumble down his cheek he doesn’t see the curtain move.

The peep now a single tone… the trace a single line… the light goes out.

Peter was openly crying as he left the room, suddenly a commotion sounded down the corridor. He stopped, pointed the fox. “BOB, WHY-DON’T-YOU- JUST-FUCK-OFF!”
Arms and legs stopped with a “Fi”.
With an expanding moisture patch appearing, Bob turned and serenely walked away.
“Forgiveness,” Peter simple said.
“Forgiveness,” Sabine simply replied.

They sat down, Peter reflecting on what had happened to the boy in the room.
“My second daughter died.”
Sabine said nothing, her eyes just held him in a safe secure space of empathy.
“I was there.”
Sabine’s silence created an osmotic response.
“It was my fault.” Peter could a feel a twisting tightness around the hardened crust of the old emotion. “I didn’t kill her… but it was my fault.”
Sabine raised her lips into a semi-smile of encouragement.

“Maureen would have died, as well as the baby, I pushed Maureen to terminate.”

Sabine nodded ever-so-slightly.
“I was there when the baby was born…I watched her struggle to live, to breath, she fought and fought…
She was too young… It was my fault; my fault and I could do nothing to help her, to save the pain, I killed her. I’m sorry, so, so sorry.”

The dam of damned emotions, fractured into tears.
“Sabine do you think she’ll?”
“She already has.”
Peter didn’t ask, he stood up, and as the crust crumbled, and the belief shifted, the slight hunch he had carried in his shoulders, for all those years, straightened.
Peter sort of smiled. “I need to talk to Bob, and put out a fire.”


Snipped to the last chapter >

Peter sat alone in the Atrium, all the new memories of an old lifetime soared through his body, shifting perspectives, changing outcomes, turning tears into smiles. And though he had never felt so alive, he knew it was the end, and stood.
He checked himself in the mirror by the door. The white morning suit fitted perfectly, the lines so straight, no longer bowed with age, or sagged with stress. The white shoes were polished, the tie tied right. The breakfast brown toasts, glistened back with a new light, the lines of life long gone, peace radiated.

“You ready?” Sabine in a tailored suit, hair tied back, startled him slightly.
Peter gave a nod down to one side. “Everything’s working” He winked.
Tenderness transcended from soul to eyes. “I bet it is”. She winked back.
There was a tension so taut between them, it ignited every cell in his skin, then it stopped, unexpectedly. “I’m ready.”
“I know.”
Peter moved to the door and rested a cheek on the wood. His hand felt for the indentations, the rings of the woods life, the little knots. They were there, yet they were smooth and flat. Sabine put her hand on his shoulder. “Its time?” he asked.
“Time was in the past, Peter.”
“There’s no handle.”
He turned to Sabine. He felt to turn quickly, to look at her, and he did, only the room took its time to follow.
“Thank…” She put a finger on his lips.
“What’s your final belief Peter? Sabine put her hands on his shoulders, and gently squeezed.
Something so deep, he hadn’t felt since he was a child, released.
A heady weightlessness flowed over him, his voice, not his own. “There is no death, only a door.”
Peter saw her smile.
He returned. “Sabine is that…?” her smile widened.
With release, he turned and walked though the door.


… Amy knocked on Dr Livingston’s door

“Come in.”

“I’m sorry, you’re with someone.”

”It’s okay, Amy this is Dr Trudeau, he’s trying to convince me to take part in a study.”

Amy’s eyes wandered to the rather handsome man, sat besides Dr Livingston’s desk.

“I’m sorry, just wanted to say thank you for everything you did for dad, before he died.”

“It’s my job, but thank you.”

Amy turned to leave, then swung back. “Dr, do you believe he was happy at the end? After his fall down the steps and the coma, I couldn’t tell.”

“I don’t know Amy, beliefs are Sebastian’s - Dr Trudeau’s area of psychology. However, one thing I will say, the closer he came to the end, the more peaceful he looked.”

“Thank you Doctor.” Amy made to leave.

“Amy, AMY before you leave, you never did tell me why your dad was covered in beans, when we brought him in?”
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Publication Date: 04-05-2010

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