Status: Frozen.
Crying Skies, Lonely Nights
Chapter 4-The Moon is watching
A deadly silence floated in the air. With my heart bumping and my hand bleeding I sat in the middle of the street. The cold, hard asphalt had been worn out by time. My mother laid down there, with me, showing no signs of waking up soon. The moon, looked at us, majestically, in her place in the sky. However, the moon doesn’t look at anyone. But in your desperate moments, every single thing close to you becomes a negligent object, observing your senseless claims for help, as every ray of light becomes a hint, a clue for your escape. And that’s what happened.
I looked around and saw a cut wire, pending from an electric-post. Sparks jumped out of it, the last signs of life and an obvious clue.
But the obvious becomes the most complex mystery of all for the mind of a kid, bursting with adrenaline.
Dead. They were all dead. There was not a living soul to help me. Everybody was gone, their fragile souls carried away by Death. I could have kept this to myself, but I do not like mysteries. We both know how it ends, and I don’t like this manipulation so much, this desperate need for an answer which stands in front of you, but that I try to keep to myself. So, don’t expect me to make mysterious lines all the time.
Anyhow, my naïve, tumultuous mind did not understand that morbid scenario for a long time.
But I did understand one thing: help was not coming.
I was the one who would have to walk that dirty road, dragging my poor mother’s body, towards that single red cross, made of neon, still too far away for it to be visible for me. Yet again, I was the one who threw myself into the abyss of doom.
It’s funny though, how the red cross, and the hospitals usually symbolize salvation and stuff, with dedicate surgeons and doctors, disposed to work hard to save your life, independently of the acts you have committed. Since there’s always a black sheep somewhere, for me, after those days, hospitals for me became horrible places, with sneaky doctors and such.
I stood up, after 5 minutes, the longest 5 minutes I had ever experienced and went into the darkness, searching for that hospital, the only hospital I actually knew where it was: Conveniently located at the end of the street.
After a short walking, my legs were becoming stiff and heavy, and as we reached that small, white hospital , I took a quick glance at its name , opened the door and passed away right there, with my mother by my side. The name of the hospital was the opposite of what it came to represent to me later: Hope Hospital.
I looked around and saw a cut wire, pending from an electric-post. Sparks jumped out of it, the last signs of life and an obvious clue.
But the obvious becomes the most complex mystery of all for the mind of a kid, bursting with adrenaline.
Dead. They were all dead. There was not a living soul to help me. Everybody was gone, their fragile souls carried away by Death. I could have kept this to myself, but I do not like mysteries. We both know how it ends, and I don’t like this manipulation so much, this desperate need for an answer which stands in front of you, but that I try to keep to myself. So, don’t expect me to make mysterious lines all the time.
Anyhow, my naïve, tumultuous mind did not understand that morbid scenario for a long time.
But I did understand one thing: help was not coming.
I was the one who would have to walk that dirty road, dragging my poor mother’s body, towards that single red cross, made of neon, still too far away for it to be visible for me. Yet again, I was the one who threw myself into the abyss of doom.
It’s funny though, how the red cross, and the hospitals usually symbolize salvation and stuff, with dedicate surgeons and doctors, disposed to work hard to save your life, independently of the acts you have committed. Since there’s always a black sheep somewhere, for me, after those days, hospitals for me became horrible places, with sneaky doctors and such.
I stood up, after 5 minutes, the longest 5 minutes I had ever experienced and went into the darkness, searching for that hospital, the only hospital I actually knew where it was: Conveniently located at the end of the street.
After a short walking, my legs were becoming stiff and heavy, and as we reached that small, white hospital , I took a quick glance at its name , opened the door and passed away right there, with my mother by my side. The name of the hospital was the opposite of what it came to represent to me later: Hope Hospital.