if you're given a chance, would you like to see them?
a not so original story where you can see things what normally people can't and you happen to cross path with a stray Spirit named Yoongi.
____
1st place myg on The Silver Wings Awards
2nd...
"I stood there like a criminal being cross-examined for a stolen loaf of bread when the actual crime was murder." - Demian
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It felt like a lifetime already since I have gone motherless. The idea itself is unbearable that it's better forgotten than to suffer with the constant mourning of the person I love the most.
Still,
even though the urge to ignore the longing I've been feeling is getting bigger and bigger. That I've been doing almost anything but to remember.
Still, I craved the memories of her. For, it is the only thing I have left besides the photographs I kept in my drawer. It was rather infuriating how much I still missed my mother. How I still dreamed of her patting my head ever so gently as I cry on her shoulders. How I still could picture her apron hanging lazily on our couch, and even if her comforting smell had faded entirely. Still, I could remember it.
It was ridiculously annoying how I could literally see every ghost, but my mother's.
To this day I still cannot phantom such absurd logic. It's utterly maddening. Fate may have been playing a little joke on us and it I find it nowhere near funny.
Life indeed is an infuriating mess.
Almost as infuriating as my Father. The man whom I've given my trust entirely and have expected more of, only to fail me by boldly introducing this new lady in our household. A woman who looked nothing like my mother, although she was undeniably gorgeous and looked extremely gentle, she stood there all fidgety and nervous, a contrast to my father's calm demeanor. His presence used to be a comfort when I was a child, but it was everything but that right at that moment.
"Bloody hell? it hasn't been a year since my mother's death." those exact words left my mouth back then, I remember fighting the urge to throw everything my eyes have came across on, to say I was distraught was an understatement. I was mad. mad. mad.
My Father was rather surprised. It made me lose my cool even more. What reaction did he expected from me? he might have assumed to come back home in a welcoming warm smile of his dear daughter upon seeing him bringing a new woman and live happily ever after— He's utterly mad if that's it. I have expected more from him for he's the person I looked up to ever since and he completely ruined it all in a day.
He looked calm despite my displayed anger. I remembered hating him for it. "you see, I know it's a lot to take, but she's a good woman my dear—"
"I don't give a sodding care about that Dad! My mother- I- I don't understand, I thought you love mom? what's with you bringing a woman then?" he could only frown. And I remember crying my eyes out, and looking back I was rather a pity. I shouldn't have shed tears, shouldn't have let my emotions get the best of me.
But then I was only a mere child.
That moment I knew I couldn't change his mind, in fact, I feared nothing I could possibly say can. The sight of me crying used to soften his eyes, it used to be my secret weapon when I was a child and wanted something. But now, his kind eyes, it remained stoic even at the sight of me practically bawling. It made me sick.
