Fire, music, explosions, air. I NEED AIR. Then nothing…
Cool, maybe cold even. I opened my eyes and I was there again.
Now. Then. Past. Present… Future, if there is one…
All these things merge into one moment. A life. A person, plant or animal this is a definite thing, something that connects us to one another whoever that might be. These categories supposedly make us who we are. Life. It's apparently as simple as that.
But there is a different side of the coin, something everything fears. Death. Some people say it is inevitable, that when your time comes some higher power will come, snatch your soul, and your entire being and take you to heaven.
Although this has problems of its own. Who is that higher being, eternal paradise emits a stench of deception. Therefore hell is non-existent or present in our own minds, our own reality. In death is there fire and demons everywhere or is there just nothing? An eternal abyss that tears you apart to feed its hunger or to create you anew.
I guess I was about to find out.
A ring hung on a small silver necklace strung around a six-year-old's neck. Their strawberry blonde hair cut short and uneven, as if the child had never had a proper hair cut and did it on their own, with a pair of Garfield safety scissors when no one was looking.
The child was standing at one end of a hallway. To the back of the little girl was an elevated family portrait; now this would be perfectly normal had there not been two things seriously wrong, with both the painting and the appearance of the child herself.
The child was clothed in what would have been considered rags had they not been in one piece. But what was more disturbing than this was the complete and utter removal of the little girl from the portrait. She was just not there at all.
A tall well dressed woman walked down the hallway of the old Victorian mansion, not even sparing a glance at the dishevelled appearance of the little girl who gawked up at the woman with admiration in her eyes. They shared similar characteristics with each other, their hair colour, the shape of their eyes and nose.
The woman stopped as if she had forgotten something. Her brow creased and with a flick of her hair harshly grabbed the girl’s wrist and thrust the child through the now open onyx door right into the waiting arms of a stranger. Without ever speaking to the little girl she had just sealed her demise.
How would I know this… because I was that child.
I peered back at the door, the ebony black door thinking - no hoping, that the woman who had carried me in her womb for nine months and birthed me; the person who was supposed to cherish my entire being, would change her mind, come and take me away from the unknown variables that could and without a doubt would devour me whole.
It was a miserable day, sombre clouds foreshadowing rain as if the day was as despondent to the same degree that I, myself was feeling. Just as the door locked with a resounding ‘click’ I realised that I was never going back. The rain started dribbling and soon turned into a downpour.
I scrutinised the stranger standing next to me as she fumbled to open an umbrella in order to reduce the extent of the monsoon surrounding us. She was tall like my mother - could I call her my mother now? I pondered this thought for a moment and then it hit me.
That woman was no longer my mother in fact she never had been, she had abandoned me and refused to care for me as a mother should, therefore that title belonged to no-one, lest this happen again.
The woman next to me, I should really ask for her name, was darked skinned, probably African-American, she had a nice smile or what I thought was a friendly smile, I hadn't seen that many.
They offered their hand, which I took. Looking back now that was either the best or worst decision I had ever made. I looked back at the old house, at the place my journey began but not where it would continue.
As we walked under the shelter of the umbrella toward a black Mercedes, most likely our destination, I heard the heels of her shoes clacking and the soft slap of my bare feet, the water creeping between my toes thus making me shiver.
As we reached the expensive car I saw a woman tall, but much shorter than the one next to me. When we converged at the car, the two women smiled, and introduced themselves.
“ Hello there, my name is Louise and this is my wife Thelma. I know this might be hard for you but we want you to know that you will never be ignored again. We will love you and take care of your needs as long as you’re with us.” said the African-American woman now introduced as Louise.
I just nodded and climbed into the recently opened door. They just looked at each other with a glint of melancholy in their eyes and climbed into the sleek black Mercedes.
After everyone was buckled in, Thelma started to drive. Louise Turned on the radio and a song started playing:
I pirouette in the dark. I see the stars through me. Tired mechanical heart. Beats til the song disappears,
The rain started to get heavier.
Somebody shine a light. I'm frozen by the fear in me. Somebody make me feel alive,
Thelma turned on the high beam lights.
And shatter me. So cut me from the line. Dizzy, spinning endlessly,
A truck honks its horn, somewhere in the distance.
Somebody make me feel alive. And shatter me! Shatter me! Somebody make me feel alive,
Thelma saw the truck too late to stop even though she tried. The truck was on top of us in an instant.
And shatter me!
The truck happily complied.
If only the clockworks could speak, I wouldn't be so alone. We burn every magnet and spring And spiral into the unknown.
And I did exactly that as the music got quieter and I drifted away.
Somebody shine a light. I'm frozen by the fear in me. Somebody make me feel alive. And shatter me.
So cut me from the line. Dizzy, spinning endlessly.
Somebody make me feel alive. And shatter me! Shatter me!
If I break the glass…
