Little Drummer Boy-My Fiction Take
|December 12, 2013||Posted by Robert Milton under Blog Posts, Robert Milton|
“Come,” they told me, pa rum pum pum pum.
A new born King to see, pa rum pum pum.
I’ve been walking so long; I don’t remember when we left. The dust on my feet now joined by blisters and cuts. I want to ride a donkey, but we’re using them to haul gifts. I wasn’t sure of our destination at first. I overheard my parents talking about a star…and a King. They told me to catch up with them as they were headed out, so I went home, grabbed my drum off the ground, and hurried down the road after them.
And now, after more months than I can count, we’re almost there. I hear the chatter pick up all around me, the electricity buzzing in the air. A King….we’re about to see a King!
I’ve never seen royalty before. As poor as my family is, I never thought I’d get to meet anyone who wore a crown. Maybe he’ll let me play for him? But how can I, dressed in tattered clothes? I lost myself in the excitement, but the embarrassment about who I am suddenly crashes down on me. I’m dirty, poor, ragged. I’ve done nothing to deserve this meeting. Maybe I’ll hide in the back…content with a glimpse of him.
I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum.
That’s fit to give a King, pa rum pum pum pum.
I hear someone say we’ve arrived, but that can’t be true. All I see is a barn, all I smell are animals. This can’t be it. But the rumors are confirmed by others around me…the King, the deliverer…is here.
My heart races inside of my chest. I follow a small group of people as we walk inside the barn and into a tiny stable. There, sitting before me in the hay…a lady, a man, and a baby. I feel like crying. I feel like shouting. I feel like dancing. I feel like kneeling. I do none of these.
I just stand there…happy.
I look at the woman, not much older than myself. She looks sweet. She eyes the small drum hanging from a strap on my shoulder, and without a word, nods her head in my direction. I understand. So instead of dancing, instead of kneeling…my shaking hands find rhythm…and I play.
I played my drum for him, pa rum pum pum pum.
I played my best for him, pa rum pum pum pum.
It seemed like slow motion, yet everything happened so fast. My song is done. I hope he liked it….it’s all that I had to give. Now I don’t know what to do. Should I turn and run, should I play again, should I apologize for a gift unfit for such an occasion? The night is silent…the air, chilled. I search the face of the baby, the savior that is my King.
Then, He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum,
Me and my drum.
I never want to stop playing for him.