Short stories

Towards the end

Towards the end
Ting!!
There is pin drop silence.
Not even the breath of another living soul can be heard.
Only a sound that has been ringing in my head, a long, almost eternal voice of life.
It must have been over an hour now, or two for I haven't been at my best to notice time, but I'm yet to make any movement. I'm sitting still, knowing little what is to be done next.
They came and took everyone alive with them. Me?
I was hidden under the table. They had shouted for the living – "This is the last call. We have come to help you. Can anyone hear us?" they had shouted. But I didn't have the power. I couldn't part from them so soon. The mere feeling that they were all dead was.............overwhelming, parting away didn't seem like an option. I wanted to talk to them, one last time. Just one last time, see their happy faces and memories forever.
This isn't how I imagined things. I mean I didn't use to imagine them dead while they were still alive but, I did think at times, what will I do when my parents were no more, when they were too old to live. What would happen then?
The idea didn't appeal but then I knew, it would happen someday. I'd imagined watching them depart in peace, having seen all that is good and bad, with a smile of contentment. I thought I'd write them a heartwarming eulogy. We would all cherish the great times spend together. My brother and I would each hang their photo frames in our homes, and tell our children all about their grandparents. They would be fascinated by the stories and strive to become like their grans.
But now, here we are and all of that seems useless. My ma, my pa, my brother, all lying dead in front of my eyes. Their bodies are clad with blood. Their facial expressions are not of contentment but of agony and fear. I shiver at the sight. It's as if one of them would get up any moment and cry out loud. So loud that the world could hear.
However, there's only silence. So prominent that its eating me, consuming me, drowning me in the doom that it signals. Never in my life have I wanted them so much – my family – I want them back and I'm not going to rest until I get them.
The sobbing, the crying - they say one must cry at the death of their loved ones, it helps one heel. But my tear glands seem to have taken the dry route. They refuse to let go at any cost. I want to cry, cry out bad. The truth, the realization is causing strange sensations in my mind. Like someone just hit me hard with an iron bar. My head is spinning, my vision is becoming blur. My back is not supportive either. Any moment I'll be falling in the pool of blood and bodies around me, becoming one with the dead. The ground is revolving, but there's no one to help. No one to call out to, only dark smoke as far as I can see. I'm scared now. I don't want to die. So, I must get going.
I look back at my family one last time. I wanted to perform their death rituals. Instead I lay tears beside each one of them. I hope their souls find peace.
Good bye mother.
Good bye father.
Good bye sweet bro.