To Slow a Treacherous Heart ✓

29| Death Thou Eternal Bliss

Date Published: 12th May 2019, Sunday

Twenty-Nine: Death Thou Eternal Bliss

All he saw was darkness.

He was swimming in it; drowning in it. He searched for a way out; but how can a way be found out of a place so dark that no light would even dare to seep in?

Suddenly, he felt peace. A peace so strong and beautiful that tears collected at his eyes. It felt as if every single burden he had was lifted off of him. It felt like a never-ending life of grief was removed. It felt like everyone he ever loved was right there with him.

He was reminded of a memory from when he was thirteen and Rosa was just nine. Mom had just set the dinner table and the chicken was in the stove.

It wasn't an extremely happy memory at first. Since Rosa was down with the flu, mom had had to go and check in on her a dozen times and thus burning the chicken she'd put in the oven. Dad was late from work again and Ryan had been trying to hide his sneezes. He was catching a cold.

He'd gone to the kitchen to fill himself a cup of warm water to ease his sore throat when he'd seen the smoke coming out of the stove. He'd turned off the stove, burning his hand in the process. That was the moment dad had decided to open the front door.

"Honey, I'm-wait what's that smell?" the pitter patter of footsteps brought him into Ryan's line of sight.

"I turned it off," he mumbled, his nose slightly clogged.

By the time they'd salvaged the chicken, there wasn't much left. Mom had sighed, taken care of Ryan's burn and put him into his bed.

Dad had ordered pizza. Rosa had sneaked into his room and laid beside him. When their parents had come up to announce the pizza's arrival, they found them sleeping in each other's arms. But both of them woke up at the sound of the door, and the smell of the pizza and they all ended up eating in Ryan's room.

They'd laughed, talked and dad joked about all the funny things that had happened at work.

He'd always been an amazing story teller.

Dad had kept teasing mum and got shoulder slaps in return for every comment he made on her 'expert' cooking skills.

All he could think about was the warm feeling in his chest on that day. Even though he'd had a horrible day, his family had salvaged all their happiness and enveloped each other with it.

The memory vanished, but the feeling stayed.

The darkness was less eerie now; more enticing.

A misty contortion of colour flitted into his line of sight.

A road morphed into view, bringing with it trees and a street of lampposts. Suburban houses lined the way, rising up with crispy white precision, showing off their front lawns and decorated knobs.

And then, he saw his house. His lovely cornerstone house, a little different from the fast-paced clichés that dotted the boulevard with their freshly mowed lawns and screaming rich owners.

A little smaller, a little greener.

His mum had loved to garden.

He walked towards it, realizing he was the boy from his memory. All arms and legs, really.

He smiled at himself.

Another concoction of colours favoured his sight and his gut clenched. The colours morphed into a blurry image that slowly transformed into an equally fuzzy face.