Status: Complete!
One Summer's Day
One Summer's Day
It was a hot summer’s day when it happened. I specifically remember the sun beating down on the back of my neck, a constant reminder of my inability to do anything about my situation.. And yours, too. You were lying down on your bed, helpless and alone. If only I could’ve done something -- anything at all-- to help you, but I knew that nothing I could ever do would make you feel any better. If anything, I would’ve made you feel worse. I was the only lasting remnant of your childhood, a childhood that was never any good. Why I was still with you, I will never know, but I am very aware of the fact that I was the one who gave you those nightmares. You would wake up with tears streaming down your face, crying “Papa!” Sometimes, you would be yelling for your mother as well, but it was almost always your dad who you were looking for.
In the daytime, you would be staring out your window. On most days of the year, you would refuse to budge from your bed unless you were told to do so by that grumpy old woman. I never did like her.. I probably never will. Nobody ever did. Anyway, on most days of the year, you would be either out doing chores and running errands or you would have your pretty little nose in a book. Oh yes, how you loved to read. It was a sort of.. substitute for the fact that you couldn’t go to school like the rest of the children. The one thing you were never able to understand, though, was why you weren’t even allowed to go out and play with them. It was always clean this, or wash that. Buy this, and sell that. On summer days, you would put the books down and stare out the window. You would watch them play, and how you loved to do that, too. It came to the point that you knew their games even better than they did. You knew all the strategies because you spent all your time just watching them. Watching, yearning.. You would recite the rhymes that they would shout out when playing with-- what were they called again? Oh!-- jump ropes.
That day, though, you weren’t staring out the window anymore. The grumpy old lady had sent you to bed like she had been doing for more than a month. You had grown thinner than you already were -- a feat I had always believed to be impossible. Your face had paled, and your movements had slowed. Where was the child who loved to read? Where was the child who wanted nothing more to go out and play in the sun, and frolic in the meadows like most children her age did? She, of course, was gone, and in her place now stood a little girl whose childhood was ripped away from her by a cruel old hag who dare claimed that she was the child’s grandmamma. Every day for nearly a month now, you had sulked off to bed and sunk right into your sheets. Just by watching, I could see how much weight you’d already lost. The virus was taking its toll on you, and I was shocked at the fact that that witch grandmother of yours couldn’t find it in her heart to even go to the kitchen and prepare you some soup. No. You were literally dragged out of bed every morning, forced to do chores, and thrown back in every night. She’d become stricter on you, calling you a ‘rebel’ all because you weren’t moving fast enough. It now took you forty minutes to run to the store and back, instead of just thirty. According to your grandmother, it was reason enough to punish you like this.
I watched in horror as you lay down in your bed, gasping for air. I watched in despair as you took your last breath. I watched in disgust as the old hag paid the two big men who threw you into a hole in the dirt and covered you up. I watched in anger as her shriveled up hand reached out for me, muttering something about how you had just taken up space in her house.
I’m sitting in a furnace, now. I’m ready for whatever’s going to come. Scanning through the memories I had gained from just watching you from the corner of the room, most people would think that I had lost all hope for your race, for humankind. Contrary to popular belief, no, I hadn’t. You were the perfect example of what a “good person” was. No amount of ‘wisdom’ or ‘experience’ or ‘education’ could ever match what was in your heart. You made me believe in humankind. Without you even knowing, you saved my life, even when you couldn’t save your own.
In the daytime, you would be staring out your window. On most days of the year, you would refuse to budge from your bed unless you were told to do so by that grumpy old woman. I never did like her.. I probably never will. Nobody ever did. Anyway, on most days of the year, you would be either out doing chores and running errands or you would have your pretty little nose in a book. Oh yes, how you loved to read. It was a sort of.. substitute for the fact that you couldn’t go to school like the rest of the children. The one thing you were never able to understand, though, was why you weren’t even allowed to go out and play with them. It was always clean this, or wash that. Buy this, and sell that. On summer days, you would put the books down and stare out the window. You would watch them play, and how you loved to do that, too. It came to the point that you knew their games even better than they did. You knew all the strategies because you spent all your time just watching them. Watching, yearning.. You would recite the rhymes that they would shout out when playing with-- what were they called again? Oh!-- jump ropes.
That day, though, you weren’t staring out the window anymore. The grumpy old lady had sent you to bed like she had been doing for more than a month. You had grown thinner than you already were -- a feat I had always believed to be impossible. Your face had paled, and your movements had slowed. Where was the child who loved to read? Where was the child who wanted nothing more to go out and play in the sun, and frolic in the meadows like most children her age did? She, of course, was gone, and in her place now stood a little girl whose childhood was ripped away from her by a cruel old hag who dare claimed that she was the child’s grandmamma. Every day for nearly a month now, you had sulked off to bed and sunk right into your sheets. Just by watching, I could see how much weight you’d already lost. The virus was taking its toll on you, and I was shocked at the fact that that witch grandmother of yours couldn’t find it in her heart to even go to the kitchen and prepare you some soup. No. You were literally dragged out of bed every morning, forced to do chores, and thrown back in every night. She’d become stricter on you, calling you a ‘rebel’ all because you weren’t moving fast enough. It now took you forty minutes to run to the store and back, instead of just thirty. According to your grandmother, it was reason enough to punish you like this.
I watched in horror as you lay down in your bed, gasping for air. I watched in despair as you took your last breath. I watched in disgust as the old hag paid the two big men who threw you into a hole in the dirt and covered you up. I watched in anger as her shriveled up hand reached out for me, muttering something about how you had just taken up space in her house.
I’m sitting in a furnace, now. I’m ready for whatever’s going to come. Scanning through the memories I had gained from just watching you from the corner of the room, most people would think that I had lost all hope for your race, for humankind. Contrary to popular belief, no, I hadn’t. You were the perfect example of what a “good person” was. No amount of ‘wisdom’ or ‘experience’ or ‘education’ could ever match what was in your heart. You made me believe in humankind. Without you even knowing, you saved my life, even when you couldn’t save your own.