Child of The Village

Prologue

In Tarot reading, the Death card means demise, a bad omen, a fearful future. But remind you, that it could also mean a new beginning. And in that sense, Death is an opportunity.

The problem is before order there has to be chaos first. The mayhem is always devastating especially when a death in a family sometimes beckons another. Grim Reaper is greedy. He'll take a body, or a soul. Today, he took both: a body of an old man, and a soul of a young woman.

Emily knew this day was coming and she had braced herself for the wretched and fated future, but nothing could prepare her for what was about to come. The loss of one of the most influential person in her life was an apex. She just reached a new height of trials she had to endure. It was the summit of all the pain in her life. The wound was fresh and open, yet there were no tears in her eyes.

Numb, that was word best described how she felt reading the announcement board, like a limb dipped for too long in a bucket of ice. This was worse than nightmare for she could not wake up. Every nerve in her brain was shutting down to avoid critical damage but they failed so they just froze like an overload computer. Time had stopped for her in front of the chapel. She could not face this kind of reality.

She could hear the choir chanting angelic requiem song from inside the chapel, but every part of her refused to join the mass. Only a little part of her urged to go inside but there was something in her chest rebelling to the thought. 'In there,' she mused, 'are people who are willing to kill to get in the deceased's will.' The ones who really cared for him couldn't make it to his humble funeral. She was sure more than a half of the attendees grieved for their unfortunate fate for not making it into her grandfather's last testament. In her wildest imagination she saw the people in black attacking her like a pack of hell-dogs. Soon. How soon, she didn't know. Hopefully they'll give her time to mourn.

Soon. She turned and walked away. She decided to mourn on her own. Grandpa Fred would understand. She looked up to the blue sky. Wouldn't you, Gramp?

She walked her feet off until the shoes cut her skin. It was only when the blisters were screaming she felt the pain. The physical torment took away some in the heart, and although not by much, it helped her mind to think of something else rather than hurting herself more by reminiscing the hurtful memories.

She was wandering aimlessly when she found herself in the swankiest part of the city. She stopped in front of a window, looking at her own reflection. 'How sad I look.', she thought, noticing her tired and puffy eyes and pale cheeks. She could see the world passing by in the reflection, like looking into another world and dimension in a parallel universe.

A world of possibilities, a world where maybe Grandpa is still alive. At this hour, he would be watching TV. And when I come home, he'd ask how was my day, and I'd say it had been beautiful and kiss his snow-white hair. If I come home now, would it be?

When the reality hit her in a form of a car honking, she was standing facing a coffee shop, and the people sitting by the window started staring back at her. She noticed it. Embarrassed, rather clumsily she looked the other way and sauntered.

She used to think there is always beauty in sadness. Until last month, it was still true for her. Somehow she had always found the narrow tunnel in the midst of sorrow, not necessarily to happiness, but to peace within. But this time, it was all dead ends.

It was the hardest night she ever had. Crying to sleep did not compensate the pain and the loss. Every bit of emotions came storming and it felt like another step forward would lead her to insanity and cause a severe brain injury, for it sure felt like she had been hit by a freight-train.

***

The next morning, she felt like a huge slab of stone pinned her down to bed, barely leaving room to breathe. She could not bulge and she wanted to fall asleep and wished to wake up, but it was not a dream, nor there was a giant slab of stone making her a human sandwich. It was her soul that was crushed, leaving no traces of life. She never had a broken bone before, but this was just as physically debilitating and painful.

The doorbell rang several times and she, knowingly, let it pass. She had been laying in the same position for a while now and another person knocked on the door while ringing the bell. She was glad she turned her phone off the night before, right after she arrived at the small apartment she called home.

The one-bedroom apartment was sufficient for her. She had stopped asking for too much since she left her grandfather's house, as long as she had a bed and a roof above her head. Now it became her sanctuary from the vultures on her door.

The knockings turned to bangings and voices calling her name. She heard them but she wasn't listening, not even trying to identify the voices. She closed her eyes, hoping they would soon go away. And they did, after some time.

'Get your shit together, Emily! There is no reason to be weak.', that was what she woke up to, a sudden loud voice in her head with some tough love. She recognized the voice. It belonged to a certain ex-neighbor of hers with whom she talked with the previous night, one of her favourite person alive.

She knew this person meant well because drowning in sorrow together when there were many things to do wouldn't do anything good. This friend of hers was also as devastated as she was, especially when she had to miss the last days of grandpa Fred and his funeral which happened when she just touched down at a small airport in the northern part of Thailand for her thesis research. She couldn't throw her hard-earned opportunity so she tried to make up for it by having a 5-hour session offering consolation and support, and most of all distractions for her dear friend. Distractions are always good. She knew what her friend needed in such times, and Emily had had time to cry and there would be more time for it, but for now, there were more important things to do.

The voice went on, 'You have to face the world. This is not the end. Sooner or later it'll pass so it's better be sooner. The only way for good things to come is to run for it. Remember, good things come to those who go out there and just fucking do it.'

She took some time for the encouragement to seep in and the giant marble she felt was gone. It was a wonder what a little love could do, and some swear words. She shook her shoulders to refresh herself and went for a cold shower. Ouch! The chilly water bit like a thousand tiny teeth, but it was what she needed. For a second, she did not think of her departed dearest.

The new-found tenacity had given her fresh energy and strength. Mourning time is over. After a little cleaning up her apartment and herself, she stood silently for a couple of minutes staring at her cell-phone, or more at her own reflection on the black screen. It was time to face the world.

The smart-phone took a minute to boot up. The last moments of peace. Afterwards, it felt like opening the gate of hell. Here we go.

1 incoming message, 2 incoming messages, 3,4,5 and she stopped counting and just stared at the screen for a few minutes until it stopped vibrating. She hated her ring-tone by now.