She Died
Dear Maria,
Monday: 10:35 AM
I love the sound of water leaking from the basin tap. Drip drop, drip, drop. I love the sound of vaccume cleaner sucking all the dust in our house of ash. I love the cacophony of birds mourning for their lost homes. I love the sound of the chainsaw going havock in my father's hands instead of slicing the innocent cherry tree beside my window. Well, it didn't take much but just some messing around to throw the machine crazy. It seems he has injured a hand.
Tuesday: 8:00 pm
Mom has forcefully barged into the room and found out the box of black envelopes. She asked and I answered truthfully that they are to be delivered to our old address for you to receive. Well, now Mom knows where her car feul goes every Saterday morning. She didn't seem amused.
Wednesday: 11 am
I don't like it.
This in a crime. I should call the police.
Why are they sealing my window? I am not allowed to go out in the lawn, not allowed to go out for a walk even in daylight, the window was my only connection with the outside world. Why do they have to put barricades on it I'm not a damn beast or anything.
Or am I?
Well, they look smug and proud. Guess they still don't care about the attik.
Thursday: 9:45 pm
Today the chandelier crashed on our dinner. Crumbs of vegetables and juice flew all around the room. Well, since I knew it would happen I was already three steps away from the table with my plate in hand. The look on their faces was hilarious.
Friday: 3 am
I can't continue this game anymore. I have to put a stop to this nonsense. I mean what use does it have? After all no matter how much they try to seal me, yell or beat me, burn my books or starve me to hell, they are not the cats in this mice chase.
They are trying to trap the beast in forgetting that they too are sealed inside.
It's boring to kill them when they are asleep. But at day, the whole neighborhood would be awake. They would be awake. It will be fun but too reckless. The midnight killer must strike at dark shouldn't they?
I feel sleepy but I can't sleep, not until the last strike is done.
Friday: 5:30 am
It's done. They won't wake up anymore. I honestly wanted to use a knife or a needle or the chainsaw dad fixed. But at the last moment. Someone inside me pleaded. Amid the crowd of broken faces I could see her tear drenched eyes, she looked vaguely like me, she was all bones and skin, starved, on the verge of death.
I don't know why but I listened to her. And chocked the two of them with pillows. I guess they will keep sleeping for a while. It's weird to see Dad not snore.
Anyway I bet it will be hard for you to digest this information. So I would be sending you a present too this week.
Maria, I can't see that girl anymore. She is gone. The distorted faces are chanting something, staring at a pile of ashes.
I climbed up the stairs to my room. Someone has taken down all the barricades. The wind is the breath of ice, chilling, whispering. The roses above my desk are dead. I see the wilted brown petals scattered over the sheets, under the blue and white moonlight, the neatly made bed looks like a beautiful coffin.
I wonder who died.
Yours affectionately,
25 15 21 18 4 5 1 18 19 9 19 20 5 18
YOU ARE READING
Maria Oh Maria
Mystery / ThrillerShe sent the woods to me in an envelope, an envelope I wished I never opened. I've been getting anonymous letters for 3 months now. And I cannot say in words how much my life has been demolished by them. Say, stranger, are you going to read her let...
