A Girl, A kind Man and A Little Bit Of Hope

Chapter 1: Everything has a beginning

Some people believe in luck others have faith in gods and themselves.  The world is spinning faster than anyone can imagine and nobody even notices.  We are not stationary in midair suspended in space, surrounded by stars and meteors and life.  Not all life is blessed, some people are made to suffer in pain and sorrow.  Some people get a joyful life full of fame and money, riches beyond belief.  Some people are simply happy and others are fidgety and want to know more than the Earth, they want to explore the galaxy and go beyond our own solar system.  We always wander about life outside the universe but there has to be some other planet out there with water and a heat that is bearable, not to cold and not too hot. 

Planets and stars are so much bigger than our imaginations, we don’t look up to the sky for nothing though.  Everyone is searching.  People search those indigo skies for answers that we want to hold and grasp.  Why do we even exist?  Who was the first human being?  How was life formed?  How do things become alive?  Why is there death? 

Questions keep us alive, they keep us thinking because life itself is a big ask, so many people are dying and we have to ask why.  Why does planet Earth want humans to feel sorrow and pain when there is nothing else left?  What element has the power to cause such emotional and physical agony in life?  What is a life of pain and never ending pity? 

We are emotionally unstable and not physically able to change our brains perception of life but the way individuals think can have the biggest effect on everyone.  So when we dream we can jump into our own hand crafted lives and make up different worlds and planets when there is nothing left for us here.  We can rule kingdoms or fly a spaceship, travel through time and change history.  We can be anything in our own heads so what is holding us down other than gravity and the stars.  Why don’t we go and see the solar system or start a new religion. 

Thought is a powerful thing that determines who we are, what we do and it can cover up pain that is really there when we don’t want others to see us.  We hide in a fog that we can wash all over ourselves because we are scared of the reality around us, it terrifies us so we create dream realities because the truth is too terrible to face alone or tell to others.

There are people in the world who are good and help those people, whether its death or illness or anything, there are people who are willing to listen and they do help.  We are just too ashamed so we let ourselves suffer and damage until there is nothing left but a shell or echo of who we used to be.  When we can’t even stand our own children or siblings and that is when we howl out and call for help.  So the story goes there is always someone out there who will help you no matter how lost, damaged or deep you are, the world has a funny way of bringing happiness to everyone even in the dark.

¨        

   

The house was quiet, the curtains were draped shut; untouched and silent nothing stirred inside.  The only noise was the slow breath of a mother as she sat still and unmoving staring into the air.  It was hard to decipher what she was thinking as she showed no emotion just blankness as if she wasn’t even there as if she was empty.  Dirty dishes piled high by the sink and empty bottles of alcohol and glasses were scattered around the building.  There were some tissues spread across on the floor and all the lights were off.  It could be easily taken that nobody was home and nobody really was, Rebecca Harlow was not on, her lights were off and she was drifting in between a dream and the horror of reality.  Not a spark of life glimmered in her grey-green eyes and they didn’t blink but she wasn’t crying, just staring.  The eyes were bloodshot and red so you could tell she had been crying.  Her hair was a caramel and it was messy and unwashed, it was tangled and it ran down to her shoulders in knots and twists.  Underneath her eyes were heavy bags from lack of sleep and she looked dead as the purple darkness and white pale skin clashed. Heavily bitten nails lay still on the counter top and thin bony arms hung from her limp body.  The body of Rebecca Harlow was similar to that of a zombie.