The Boy Who Cried Over a Spilled Milk

Chapter 1: necklace

Cold drops of rain trailed down my body like icy needles piercing through my skin and washing away the crimson blood.

But I didn't feel anything but only the cold and dull feeling, as if I'm inside a deep ocean being swayed by the currents.

The world turned into a gray dull color as the soft pitter-patter sound of raindrops silently echoed in the silent gloomy night blending with the throbbing in my head.

lights coming from the car flickered through the rain glowing smeared and indistinct with the blurry surroundings.

Wait..

Is this even my body?

I feel a heavy numbing sensation surrounding my inter-body, coming from the limps all the way up to my brain, I felt so suffocated and trapped into the body that seems to not be mine.

I try to narrow my eyes to see clearly but no avail my vision continues to flicker simultaneously between sharpness and blurriness creating disorienting blurry images that distort my perception of things.

Like a shattered blurry mirror, reflected millions of broken fragments and distorted my gray reality. The hard rain sounded like a buzz in my ears making me feel like I'm underwater with both my ears blocked.

It's like watching one of those old TVs that jump channels every five minutes. One minute I was behind the wheel, the next I was kneeling in the mud, holding a handful of hair in one hand and a bloody knife in the other.

Red crimson blood splashed everywhere like a fountain staining me and the green grass.

The mountains loomed through the dark night and the sticky cold mud and plants beneath heavily clings to the pair of big shoes under me.

The body that seems to be not my own kept moving without any control, as if I'm just a by-stander seeing things through the eyes of a stranger or a puppet being controlled by a puppeteer completely paralyzed without any control or whatsoever.

What is this?... A dream?

I black out again, and when my vision cleared, I found my supposed pair of hands in front of me gripping on into a thick, coarse rope so tight I could even see the slight redness of my palm.

The rope leads upwards, disappearing into the darkness, its other end attached to the high above the branch causing crackling sounds, I pull as hard as I can while the branch creaks and its leaves rustling in the wind.

Until a small shadow body slowly raises up from the ground on the other side of the tree, as I pull the rope harder the slender dark shadowy figure flails and twisted in the air, its limbs reaching out as if grasping for something, anything, to hold onto.

I only heard the sound of faint struggling and the buzzing sound of the rain though the cold dark night

Then I heard blurred screams...

Desperate... sorrowful... screams of a man and a woman.

My gaze drifted towards the source of the screams. Two figures lay on the ground struggling desperately their bodies contorting and twisting like worms sprinkled with salt.

Sweat and tears rolling down their faces as they jerkingly and spasmodically try to escape from the tight rope

And as if suddenly my eyesight was sharpened by a camera lens, I can clearly see the rope slowly tightening around their bodies, their struggles becoming more desperate, their wails more agonizing.

I slowly looked up at the hanging figure on the tree, motionless in the air like a grotesque puppet suspended by a thread.

My gaze went back to the seemingly couple as I suddenly let go of the rope and the body fell to the ground with a sickening thud.