July 6, 2011
Life couldn’t be more cheerful! Or at least that’s how it was eleven years ago. Yes! You got it right I am seventeen years old now, and that is my birthday, but back then I was seven. As a joyous, young child, I’ve always put up high expectations- I was ambitious. I wanted to be a famous author, and I’ve always dreamt to buy a new laptop just for writing stories instead of writing down on paper. I waited for this day for too long, and it finally came round. I knew I would at last bring dull characters into lively, vivid images with the magic of words.
“Eyana! Get ready, dear.” My mom’s voice summoned ecstasy within me.
“I’m coming, Mom.” I yell back, excitement too apparent.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was all for real. I was finally to attain my dream. I hopped on around the room, as I slid over my sweat pants. I could’ve never been any skinnier except that I seemed to stand on two toothpicks, but an irrational fear of becoming obese seemed to pile up within me. Mom would always say, “Flesh is wealth... Thighs are always in love; don’t break them apart.”
But her words always dissipate at some point in my life -at some point when all hope is gone.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror once again, and I almost gasped at how tangled my golden, noodle-like hair is. I have to quicken my pace; Mom and Dad are waiting downstairs for like ages. In a very skillful manner, I comb my hair and untangle the intermingled curls. I slip on my sneakers, and jump down the stairs with bells on like a horse galloping across the desert, leaving behind gusts of wind, but I left behind torrents of laughter and giggles that pervaded the entire atmosphere.
“Mom, Dad, I’m readyyyy!!!”
“Oh, dear! Look how sweet our young angel is, and how good-looking she has become.” Mom uttered.
I didn’t know what I’d say at such a compliment, so I just blushed. Little did I know that beauty was ephemeral -that smile wouldn’t last for long.
Dad, as careful as always, rides the car and buckles his seat belt, and so does Mom. I -as hurried and enthusiastic as always- hurled myself into the car.
“Patience, dear.” Dad muttered, and those were the last words penetrating the silence of the long ride.
After what seems like hours, I start yawning.
“Faster, Dad, faster!” I tell with ants in my pants. “We’ll be late.”
I wish I haven’t uttered those words as Dad didn’t want to frustrate me, so he sped up -beyond the limits. I couldn’t keep my eyes for a moment -the same moment a truck loaded with building material shot across our minute car like a car racing at an endlessly, blocked hallway. The only difference was the expensive price I’d paid for my impatience.
Within a few seconds, a pool of blood was enshrouding the entire road like a blanket. Cars clustered around the place and slowly pulled me out of the traumatic event- just before the car went on fire. As my parents corpses were pulled out of the car, a giant metallic rod was piercing across my father’s head, fracturing his skull into two pieces.
Mom -however- was in one piece except that white thing next to her - a convoluted oval-shaped thing and an eyeball. I cried hysterically at the sight, but everyone tried to reassure me and tell me I’d be alright, but they were all lying.
“What is that white thing right there? Whose eyeball is that?”
“Oh, dear!” One man answered. “Your Mom, the angel inhabiting heaven-”
“Is that her brain? And her eyeball too?!”
“Come on, dear. We can’t escape from our fate. We can’t defy the inevitable.”
But I knew it was all wrong. It was all my fault. I shall live with a second companion-remorse. I murdered them with my impatience. I’m going to burn in hell-in eternal perdition.
My lachrymose eyes puff for the millionth time. It is all a screwed up, chaotic enigma where I am left to wend and wail in hell.
I could have never pondered of being an orphan once my teenage years strike, as if uttering,
“Congratulations Eyana! You shall live eternally down in the dumps.”
A desperate chuckle slipped away from me as if mocking my deceased fate.
They have left for you never deserve them. They are watching over you by now, and snickering jests are pervading their heavens as your abhorred presence taunts the universe. Why are you resisting? Why are you fighting? Let away your bloody, flagrant tears kindle the noxious flames in your heart so that you might vanish in that furnace of fright...
My subconscious mind never spreads lies to please me. It always tends to lacerate my pierced wounds so that they would bleed with agony; so that my soul would pleed for clemency.
I wish I was one of those supernatural humans who tend to receive prophecies. At least, that might have allayed my scatty thoughts that conquer me as haunting ghosts.