death's whispers

Do you believe everyone has a ticking time bomb inside them, waiting to go off? No, right? It sounds crazy. But that's been my life ever since my father died. He passed when I was five, and I can barely remember him, but deep down, I know it was tragic.

I started noticing something strange on people's heads. Once, I saw it on my mother's head. I didn't know what it meant, so I ignored it. Weeks later, I saw it count down to one. Something in me knew it was a bad sign, but I brushed it off. Moments later, a car came crashing into my mom. Her body fell to the ground, blood spilling over the road and on me. Note, I was just twelve.

I was shocked, grieving, but also numb. The people in the car rushed to help, taking her lifeless body to the hospital, but the doctors said it was too late. I hate remembering that day.

Now, my lonely, twenty-year-old shaman sister, Arya, takes care of me. She's all I have left. She hasn't been with anyone since she was sixteen, before our mom died. We grew closer after that, and she's both my friend and family. I'm sixteen now, and all I see and predict is how and when people will die. Sometimes it's hard, watching the innocent suffer and the wicked survive, but I can't stop it. I tried once—it only made things worse. A man who was supposed to die by a simple gunshot through his head ended up being tortured, peeled alive. I can still hear his screams; I still sometimes have nightmares.

Now, I just sit back and enjoy the freaking show.

Maria stood by the window, staring out into the night's sky.

"Hey, what's up? Want some noodles?" Arya said, walking toward Maria's bed and sitting down.

"No. I'm watching the midnight show. She's being burnt alive. Her screams are almost soothing. Six seconds left... five, four, three, two, one. She's dead." Maria's voice was chilling. "People's lives are like movies, don't ya think?"

Arya looked disturbed, holding a spoon close to her lips.

"Don't mind me, Arya. I'm going crazy. Do you think I'm cursed?"

"No, no! You're not cursed. We're not. We're perfect. You know... bad stuff just happens. Tomorrow's your first day at school in a new class, and it's already 9 p.m. When are you going to sleep?"

Maria scratched the back of her head in frustration. "Have you washed your uniform? And don't you dare throw everything in the washing machine together!" Arya scolded.

Maria sighed, grabbing her uniform from the table. "I can't sleep anyway," she muttered as she ran out of the room.

Arya threw a shoe at her, but Maria slammed the door just in time. She tossed all her clothes into the washing machine, ignoring Arya's instructions. When she returned to her room, Arya was arranging her books. The sight of a big bowl of spicy noodles caught Maria's eye. She tiptoed over, quietly slurping the noodles.

Arya turned around, catching Maria in the act just as she swallowed the last bite. "Thief!" she yelled, throwing pillows at her. Maria dodged, running out the door.

"Please, be gentle with me!" Maria pleaded.

Arya gripped the door from the other side aggressively, then sighed, "Fine, come in."

"I have to go to school tomorrow. I need sleep," Maria whined.

"I've stopped. Come in."

Maria cautiously opened the door. "Are you sure I'm safe?" she asked, her puppy eyes looking at Arya.

"Yes, yes! Come on."

Maria tiptoed back in, but Arya suddenly threw another pillow. They broke into a playful fight, throwing things until they collapsed on the bed, laughing and out of breath.

"What's that sound?" Maria asked.

"The washing machine."

"Oh, crap!" Maria jumped up, rushing to turn it off. She pulled out her long black jacket, which had the name of her new school, Great Edward's, a white long-sleeved school shirt that reached up to her upper thigh, and a matching black short skirt, all soaked.

"Thank God!" she sighed, relieved. She quickly threw the clothes in the dryer, setting the timer. After a few minutes, she removed it, walked into her room, and picked an orange hanger, hanging the badly rumpled clothes up.

"Iron it!" Arya called.

"No energy for that," Maria groaned.

"Time for bed then, death love. I'm going to my own room," Arya teased.

"Please, stay with me. I can't sleep without you."

Arya sighed, giving in. "Fine... You have started; you always blackmail me like this. And look at your room! It's a mess."

Maria jumped into bed beside her. Arya gently patted her long afro curly hair. A few minutes passed; soon Maria was asleep. Arya stood up, picking up the clothes that were on the bed and floor, throwing them into her laundry basket. She picked up Maria's little purses that were out thanks to their little fight, hanging them by the wall, sweeping the floor. She stopped, bending down on one knee, placing her hands down to look under Maria's bed.

"Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed, looking at the dirty plates and spoons that looked like they had been there for the past hundred years. She picked them up and gathered them on Maria's table.

"This girl is a pig!" She looked behind her cupboard and saw more than she expected: cobwebs all over, creeping spiders, and a lot of dead cockroaches of all sizes and heights. Arya almost threw up looking at this, walking backward and increasing her footsteps.

She picked up Maria's rumpled uniform, then picked up the iron that was on the ironing table at the end of Maria's room, placing the shirt first on the table, ironing it, then the skirt followed, then her jacket was last. She ironed the uniform quietly, not wanting to wake her sister up. When she finished, she turned to see Maria's face covered in sweat, trembling in her sleep.

"Dad! No, Mom... Mom, please stay with me," Maria whispered, fear gripping her.

Arya rushed to her side, holding her close. "I'm here. It's okay. This is why I stay. Are we cursed? I just want everything to go back to normal—Mom, Dad, me, Maria. Why us?"