Deep in the Meadow
Once upon a time, there was a sixteen-year-old girl named Lenore Dove, who came from a family called Baird. She had long black hair and was really beautiful — except for the clothes on her body. Every day, she wore an oversized, deep green coat and a pair of worn-out shoes to school. Because of that, she became an object of ridicule for the whole class. Whenever those mocking voices came, she would subconsciously touch the exquicite fabric on the inside of the coat. That coat had been brought out five years ago from a big, fancy house in a prime location of the city — back in the days when she still lived happily with her family.
Her mother came from an old musician family and had a special tradition: the kids in the family were named after ballad and color. That is where her name came from. Lenore is the ballad that tells the story of a man who loses the love of his life, and goes mad of missing her.Then a old raven comes and won’t. Whatever he asks it, it says, “Nevermore” — which, as you can imagine, only makes him crazier. And Dove — not as a bird, but as a color.
When she was still a little girl, she would often beg her mother to sing the ballad over and over again in her beautiful voice. Those lyric might have seemed too strange to others, but for her, they were extremely mysterious and attractive. She also often asked about the meaning of the word “dove.” Her mother would tirlessly take out a dogear dictionary, point to her them said: Dove. A warm grey with a slight purplish or pinkish tint. “That is your bird, your colour, your name.”
Even as a small child, Lenore Dove showed a special musical talent. She was born with a beautiful singing voice and absolute pitch. When she was nine, her mother began teaching her to play guitar, and she took to it immediately. Her flexcible fingers moved across the guitar strings, paired with her clear singing voice, and everyone who heard her felt a deep sense of admiration.
When she was four, she had been given a little brother named Tam Amber. True to the family tradition, his name also came from a ballad and a color. Tam is the ballet that tells the story of a handsome man abdusted by a fairy queen, who is later rescued by the one he loves. And Amber is the warm colour that reflects the golden light under the sun. Their mother used to say that if Lenore Dove represented sadness and gray, then Tam Amber was the warmest light and hope in the family.
The two siblings had a wonderful relationship. They often played music together in their room. When Tam Amber sang, he liked to tilt his head back and let his remarkable voice fill the space — high and sweet, like the grown-up womens but cleaner. When his voice echoed through the room alongside Lenore Dove’s guitar, the whole house felt as though it had been filled with warm, golden light. The song they loved most was called “Deep in the Meadow.” It was an old lullaby. Its lyrics contained no words about courage or hope — only the image of a safe and warm place, deep in the meadow, under the willow. A place for the tired ones, to rest and sleep in peace.
However, that happiness did not last long. One day, when Lenore Dove was eleven, her brother got the maligrant tumor ，After seeing the doctorno one spoke for a long time — except for Amber, who used his small, quiet voice to ask: “Will I still be able to sing in the future?” Although the family did everything they could, taking him to every hospital and trying to treat him,the disease still won. In Tam Amber’s last few days, he grew weaker and weaker. The family surrounded him every day, holding on to the last moments they had with him. Lenore Dove sat beside him with her old guitar and played their favourite songs again and again. Then one morning, Tam Amber never wake up. Only the lingering echo of the guitar was left inside the room.
At that time, there were no tears in her eyes. They were as empty as two dried-out wells, unable to create even a single ripple. It felt as though a part of her had died along with her brother that day. Inside that familiar house, the familiar sounds that used to fill every corner were suddenly gone. Sometimes, When Lenore Dove was cutting breads，she would suddenly stopped and remembered that Tam Amber always used to stole a bit .Or when she saw the amber-colored jewellery， she would subconsciously turned her head and called out his name，then realize that he was long gone.
One day, she heard her mother playing the piano in the living room —with a slow, melancholy tunes she had never heard before. Not long after, her mother fell gravely ill. Andsince one day, the sound of the piano was never heard again. Just like that, the empty house there were. No more laughter from before. No more her mom’t piano sound. No more pure singing voice. Living behindOnly Lenore Dove and her devesting father. After the loss of her mother and brother, her father started to numb himself by alcohol. He stopped going to work and stopped caring about the only family he had left. After few month, Lenore Dove touched the piano for the last time. Then they moved to their current house — a place filled with the damp smell and wine bottles.
And so, at the young age of eleven, she had no choice but to learn how to keep account and cook. She used her time after school to go to work, doing her best to keep herself and her father presentable. During the difficult darkday when she did not have to work, she would sit in front of their door with her guitar and play — again and again, just as she had before. Except there was no longer that childish voice to sing along with her.Sometimes she would screen their names in her heart, quitiping why they had left her behind. But just like the man in her ballad, the raven gave no answer, and neither of them want to hear.
One day, while Lenore Dove was playing guitar as usual, a large, stray dog with a amber-coloreded walked toward her. He sat down beside her and listened from beginning to end. She realised it had been a very long time since anyone had listened to her sing like that. She carefully reached out her hand. The dog sniffed it, then gently placed his head in her palm. At that moment, two unwanted souls found each other. After some thought, she decided to name him Baird — not only because it carried her family name, but because it also means a person who is good at singing ballads, in Irish. Then Baird soonly develop a habit that’s to find dove every dayshe would talk to him while playing guitar. She would tell him that her father had been drinking again, describe the harsh laughter at school, and admit how much she missed their old house. Most of the time, he only listened in silence. But for her, that was already enough.
One afternoon, while Lenore Dove sat singing in front of their door —Baird lying at her feet, tapping the ground softly with his tail — a few of her classmates stopped as they passed by. “Wow, she’s even raising a stray dog now,” one of them said. A girl covered her nose and stepped back. “They really do look alike — both equally dirty.” A few of them burst into laughter. Baird raised his head immediately and looked at them carefully, sensing something was wrong. “Watch out,” another girl said, “will it bite?” A boy in a red shirt replied, “Maybe it hasn’t even been vaccinated.” Lenore Dove lowered her head. Her fingers stopped on the strings, but she said nothing. But when the boy in red picked up a stone from the ground, pretending to throw it at Baird. In that spild of a second, She partically hysterically lunged over， tightly hold the big dog into her arms，used her back to face them.The surrounding group went quiet — the movement had been so fast, so instinctive, as if she had been prepare that hole world would going to hurt him at anytime. Then, after a few dismissive words, they walked away.
Listening to the distant footsteps, she slowly lossednd her arms. Her eyes began to turn red. She gently stroked the dog’s head and murmured heart breakingly, “What happened to you? What on earth did you go through? Why didn’t you fight back?” Baird didn’t bark. He only used his tail to tap the side of the guitar — as if to say, never mind that. Just keep singing.
A few days later, one of Lenore Dove’s guitar strings broke. She decided to take it to school so she could have it changed after classes. While walking to school with the guitar case, a male voice sounded beside her. “Hey — do you play guitar too?” She froze for a moment, subconsiously trying to hide the guitar case. Standing beside her was a tall boy in a black hoodie, also carrying a guitar. His was newer and cleaner than hers. He tooked at the broken string and understood immediately. Then he smiled. “Before my first performance, my guitar string broke too,” he said. “And I was so nervous that I played the first chord wrong.” He scrack his head. “Really embarrassing, right?” Lenore Dove looked at him in surprise — because it was the first time someone had spoken to her without any cruelty in their voice. “I’m Haymich, by the way,” the boy said. ” Haymich Abernatie.” She gave her name in return. Then he added, as if remembering something, “Oh — there’s a talent contest. Will you participate?” Before she could even respond, two boys came running toward them from a distance, calling out”Hey， Haymich”.
Lenore Dove frozen immediately — because she recognised them. They were the ones who laught at them that day. Haymich pointed to waved them and said, “They’re my friends.” He noticed that the atmosphere had changed. But before he could speak, the two boys had already notice her. A mocking smile appeared on their faces. “Hey, didn’t you bring that dog today?” one of them asked. The other began acting out the moment she had shielded Baird﹐laughing as he did. Haymich had started to smile along with them — but then he saw Lenore Dove’s expression. Her face had gone red and her hands gripped the guitar case so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Seeing that, the laughter suddenly felt different to him. “All right, cut it out,” he said. “Is it really that funny?” His friends looked surprised. “What’s the matter — do you actually know her?” Tam Amber didn’t answer, but he kept looking at her. From beginning to end, she had not said a single word in her own defence. As though she had already grown used to it. Then, in the distance, the school bell rang. “Come on,” Haymich said, “we’re already late,” and walked away with his friends. But just as he was leaving, he couldn’t help but looked back. She was still standing in the same spot, looking like someone.
After classes ended, she avoided the crowd and walked to an old instrument shop at the fringe of the city. When she pushed open the door, she was greeting by warm yellow light and the special smell of wood and metal strings. She walked slowly inside and carefully placed her old guitar on the counter. “Please could you change the strings,” she said in a tiny voice. The owner walked over, adjusted his glasses, and began to fix it skillfully. As he worked, he said, “The wood on your guitar soundbox actually has a very good foundation. The sound is clean.” He paused. “I heard there’s a talent contest at your school. Are you going to give it a shot?” At the word “contest,” the image of the laughter from that morning flashed through her mind, and so did the notice she had seen posted at school. But she quietly took the guitar when he had finished, and answered, “I probably won’t go.”
When she walked out of the shop, she saw a familiar finger sitting there，silently wait for her. On the way home, she talked to him softly about the contest and the indecision in her mind. Verybard listened in his usual silence, and then blinked slowly at her, nudging her palm with his wet nose as if to offer his support. “If I go participate, they’ll definitely look at me as a jock again right,” she said,self-mockingly. Pulled the coat tighter around her. When she arrived home, the house was as dark as usual. The sound of her father snoring come out from his room, accompanied by the smell of alcohol. She went to her own corner, looked at the old dogear dictionary her mother had left behind, then sat on the edge of the bed and took a slow breath.
The question that had been quietly forming in her mind — Will I still be able to sing in the future? — settled over her like a weight. She felt it pressing against her chest, heavy and still. Then she looked at the brand-new guitar string that had just been changed. She reached out and plucked it gently. A single note rang out in the silent room. She looked toward the window, and in her eyes, something that had been still for a very long time began, slowly, to move again. She got up, went to find Baird, and said: “Let’s go participate. Not for anyone else — for Mum. And for Tam Amber.”
The next day at school, after asking a teacher for directions, she followed the way to the sign-up table for the talent contest. When she arrived, she saw a familiar figure in a black hoodie — Haymich — already focused on writing his name on the form. As if sensing her hesitant first step, he turned his head. The moment he saw her, a smile crossed his face. “Hey, Lenore Dove — you really came.” She said yes. Then a voice behind them called out, “Is she really going to proform?” The two boys who had been with Tam Amber that morning were standing there, looking her up and down. Someone else nearby shouted, “What are you going to perform? Beg for money on the stage?” A few people laughed in lowly voice. Lenore Dove stood there staring at the floor, feeling as though she had no right to be there. The courage she had built up through the night had already begun to shrink back.
But then Haymich spoke. “Could you please shut your mouths?” His voice wasn’t loud, but the surrounders went quiet immediately. The others shrugged and leave, as they are tired to argue. Lenore Dove said quietly, “Maybe they’re right.” “What?” Haymich asked. “Maybe I’m not suitable to stand on a stage.” Haymich didn’t answer right away. He just looked at her. Then he said, “Never mind what they think. Do whatever you want. If you’re nervous, it means this performance matters to you.” He gave a small nod. “See you at the contest.” Then he walked away, leaving her standing alone in front of the registration. She stood there for while, making up her mind. Then she picked up the pen and signed her name.
The few day before contest, she spent a lot of time thinking about what to perform. She wanted a song with real meaning — something that would make people look at her differently. “Deep in the Meadow” was the first thing that came to mind, but she pressed the thought down quickly. That song was too private. It was not something she could sing in front of strangers. That is her and TA’S voice.She also thought about herballad, but she already knew how people would react: a girl singing a song about a madman, a raven, and death. Just imagining it made her stomach feel cold. She kept thinking. Then, at last, another piece of music came to her.
On the day of the performance, she took out the precious photograph of her siblings and put it carefully inside the guitar case. She also took a small tuft of Baird’s fur and slipped it into her pocket as a lucky charm. When she arrived at the venue, she saw Haymich sitting not far away — surrounded by people, gigling and pointing at others in the crowd. He noticed her gaze, looked up, and mouth the word Good luck. She nodded back, then walked to a corner of the backstage area and sat down to wait. As the contest began, she sat there listening to the applause and laughter coming from the audience. Then she heard the host announce, “And our next contestant —Haymich Abernatle.” She looked up without thinking and watched the tall boy walk out onto the stage. For a reason she couldn’t name, she found herself thinking back to the day they had first met — how, out of everyone who had looked at her as though she were something embarrassing, Haymich had been the one to notice the guitar in her arms first.
The applause sounded again. She knew she would be next. She put her hand in her pocket and touched Baird’s soft fur, trying to calm herself. Then the host’s voice rang out: “And our final contestant — Lenore Dove Beard.” Although she did her best to appear strong, her knees were trembling. She took a deep breath and walked out onto the stage. Under the lights, she could feel the weight of countless pairs of eyes waiting to watch her fall. With shaking hands, she carefully set the guitar case down on the floor, opened it, and looked at the photograph of her siblings one last time. When she stepped into the spotlight, she closed her eyes and simply breathed. When she opened them again, the panic that had been there before was gone. In its place was something still and clear.
She spoke into the weak but clear voice: “Hello, everyone. I’m Lenore Dove. Today I’m going to perform a song that has been passed down through my family, and that belongs to one of my relative. It’s called ‘The Ballad of Lucy Gray Baird.'” She paused. This song on surface is a singer declaration to her own fate:you may use power to frame me or distory me ，but my freedom loving soul is sometime you will never capture.Then her fingers flew across the guitar strings. Not a single note was wrong.
Her right hand was steadier than someone standing on a stage for the very first time, every chord felt likepulling open a certain section of story that been covered under the dust. She closed her eyes and let herself and the guitar become one. She let the music move through hervessles. When she opened her eyes again, the venue had gone terrifyingly silent. She could see that some faces in the audience wore expressions of disbelief. Some were crying at the words. The judges’ faces showed open surprise and admiration. Lenore Dove could not barely remember walking back to the backstage afterwards. She only knew that she collapsed into a chair. Then Haymich came over. She avoid his gaze. “Strange, right?” she said. He didn’t answer immediately. Then he looked at her and said, “I used to think that music was something that made people feel happy. But after hearing you perform just now, I feel that some music can also make people heartache. I don’t know how to describe it — but it was really beautiful to listen to.”
Then a voice over the loudspeaker announced: “And the winner of tonight’s contest is — Lenore Dove Beard.” The venue went quiet for a single instant. Then the applause broke over her like a wave. Haymich smiled widely. “I knew it,” he said, and pushed her gently toward the stage. Lenore Dove had never imagined that one day, people would applaud for her name.
After the contest, on her way home, a group of students she recognised came toward her. She tensed. But a girl from the group said, “Hey, Lenore Dove — that was really beautiful. You’re really good.” Lenore Dove felt the words land somewhere deep, but she walked away without speaking. She was simply too overwhelmed.
The next day after school, she saw Haymich approaching with that same group of people. She instinctively moved to leave — but a girl called out her name and she stopped. “We’re really sorry about before,” the girl said. “All of it.” Then Haymich shook the guitar in his hand and smiled. “Since we’re all here — who wants to sing?” That evening, a breeze moved through the street in front of Lenore Dove’s house. She stood at her own door, watching those people laugh and play together along with the melody. It had been a very long time since people had gathered outside her house — and none of them were laughing at her. She looked at them, and thought: maybe the things I lost are slowly beginning to find their way back.
