Life wasn’t what I expected. It was rather boring and indifferent. Everyday I go to class, had exams and chat with rather regular looking comrades of mine, such lethargy.
Despite my regular life, I do enjoy looking at myself. Though usual, I am one of my school’s finest, achieving top grade and having to compete here and abroad. I specialize at Literature, having engrossed in many books that our own home library had.
I was once living at our house at London, where life was fine there. I wanted a much greater bearing so I transferred to a boarding house near our school. I wanted seclusion, independence, freedom. Yet, the turn of events gave me too much freedom, my whole family—everyone I knew, went wiped out. A catastrophic airplane crashed and landed at our house by accident at midnight, everyone was asleep and never woke up, forever. No God who helped, nor anyone, nor anyone “godlike”.
Now I am all alone. I stayed at my boarding house along with the fortune my family left me. I need to keep standing. I don't have anyone. I can't turn my head on anybody's shoulders to cry. Anybody have their own businesses, their own problems, their own topics. And I don't want to hear theirs' too. My own problems and theirs, we are all just the same.
ooOoo
MEROPE. In my precious memories, that word—or name—still etches its lurid to me. All that I can remember are those Cyprus trees that stood so proud, the warm ambiance that covers the forest where she and I met, and my mother, who convincingly permitted me to meet her then, left her alone after our premature introductions. A name, no likes nor dislikes, nor who or what connection or relationship I have with her, all became vague and completely buried six feet under with my family.
ooOoo
I graduated with much color as the rainbow had. My closest professor kindly volunteered to escort me to the rites we all have to undergo and accepted me as her apprentice in research. My professor was part of the party our institution held for the latest excavation in the Palestine. They found manuscripts all around a rather familiar- looking town. Though ruined in the last civil war, I can clearly recognize those proud Cyprus trees, the same cold ambiance, and the pungent smell lingering the area.
“The people around here are making lives through the dead ones, they embalm the ones dead, whole or not,” my professor noted, she might’ve noticed me as the smell is getting to me, “just bear with it, ok? Besides, after seeing the manuscripts at the excavation area, you’ll be ecstatic!” she convincingly added.
I nodded in agreement.
