A Whisper in the Wind
There was a lull in the air, a certain degree of quietness that would have gone unnoticed by most, save him. The years in the battlefield had robbed him of his pity, his life, even his left eye, but it had left him with one thing; instinct. It had helped him stay alive and sane during the nights of stumbling around the charred bodies and the streams of blood, with a rifle in his hand and his knapsack of provisions upon his battered back.
He felt it before everyone else; the unusual, deathly silence, broken only by the tinkle of the music box in the living room. Immediately, he rushed towards it, where Eliza and Josh, his two beloved children, were playing. Inches from the doorway, cacophony ensued. The barks of the neighborhood canines, the ceaseless cawing of crows, all heralded an evil too dark to even comprehend.
Then the cracks appeared, running down the walls, across the dusty tiled floor, and ripped apart the ceiling. He arrived in time to see his children, aged three years apart, huddled together in a corner and whimpering in fear. Somehow, he knew that he would never get them out in time. The fact struck him like a bolt of lightning and left him motionless for a second. Then adrenaline kicked in and he leaped into action. “They will survive,” he whispered.
Grabbing an enormous wooden table with Herculean strength only a desperate man could summon, he hefted it over to his cowering children and slammed it upon them, trapping them between its oak legs. By then, chunks of plaster and concrete were falling from the ceiling, crashing upon the ground like thunder on a stormy night. One hit him on the shoulder, almost tearing his arm from its socket with its almighty force. A blinding pain shot through him, raising his senses to a climax.
“I have been through worse,” he whispered, through gritted teeth, and ignored the stabbing pain in his shoulder. Then the room tilted and the large clumps of cement began slowly sliding towards the three of them, as if mocking their inability to escape the painful death awaiting them. There was only one thing he could do. Dropping to the ground, he wound his body around the exposed sides of the makeshift shelter, and screamed in pain as the first block struck him full on the back, leaving a ragged wound, from which a stream of red hot blood burst forth, tasting the dusty air.
Then everything began coming at once, as if someone had hit the fast forward button on the world. He was rammed again and again, each hit leaving his frail body racked with a pain so intense he wanted it all to end. His screams for help brought no results, and as he felt himself slowly drowning in the ocean of darkness, the faces of his children burst into his mind, clear as crystal. The image gave him new strength, to make sure his children survived the catastrophe.
His right eye flew open, and he could see his two children, scared but relatively unharmed. A smile lit up his bloodied face, before a shard of glass plunged itself deep into his remaining eye.
* * * *
She opened hers, and was greeted with nothing but a sea of night, from which unforeseen terrors burst forth, leaving her shivering in horror. Her arms, which were tightly wrapped around the body of her younger sibling, lashed out against the invisible enemies. Demonic visages leered at her from every direction, vanishing as her hand passed through them, and then appearing again somewhere else, with bright shiny eyes and teeth that gleamed in the darkness.
“No! No! Mummy, help me! Help!”
Her screams shattered the silence of the never-ending blackness. Then, right in front of her eyes, she saw something move. A dagger of fear plunged deep into her heart, and she scrambled to the other end of the tiny space in which they were imprisoned. Her entire being was shaking, and she gripped her brother’s limp body tightly. Then, a soft, faltering voice, filled with pain, sounded in their airless grave.
“Eliza... take care... of... your...brother...” The voice grew softer and softer before finally dwindling into nothingness, leaving her alone with her demons once more.
* * * *
“Here I am, standing amongst the ruins of what was once the proud town of Padang
Turning away from the camera, she wiped away a lone tear that rolled down her cheek as she gazed upon the scene of total destruction and devastation all around her. Cries of pain punctuated the air, followed by anguished sobs as family members were pronounced dead. How could this happen? What did they do to deserve this? Question after question sprang up in her mind, and for the first time, she questioned her faith in the god she had been praying to all this time. What kind of person would allow such a thing to happen?
Then, suddenly, she heard cries of excitement from a group of rescuers somewhere further of. Curious, and feeling strangely hopeful, she stumbled across the rocks and bits of concrete that littered the ground. Mia arrived in time to see the men extricating two tiny bodies from amidst the rubble.
“I can feel a pulse. They’re still alive!” Excitement filled the air as the children were placed onto a stretcher and carried towards a waiting ambulance. There, a woman was waiting, her tear-stained cheeks pale with worry. When she the two children, screams of joy filled the air as she embraced both of them, tears pouring from her reddened eyes.
Then, Mia turned back to the men around her, who had managed to unearth another body. This one was of an adult, but whether it was a man or woman, she couldn’t tell. The corpse was so bruised and bloodied that it barely resembled a human form anymore. It was laid gently on the ground. Slowly, Mia approached it, gazing with a mixture of sadness and disgust as she took in the sight of the mutilated body.
Suddenly, she heard a tiny whisper in the wind. Perhaps she imagined it, but as she looked closer at the figure lying on the ground, she could swear that its torn lips were moving slightly, forming unintelligible words. Mia leaned closer, and her sharp ears caught the words, “Are.... my....... children................ alive?” The final word was so soft, a mere rustle in the air, that she could hardly hear it. But, she understood and nodded vigorously.
“Yes, they’re alive. They’re okay!” she shouted, much to the amazement of the rescue team members around her. Then, she watched as the sides of the figure’s lips twitched upwards slightly, before slipping into the gentle embrace of death.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Happy
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Happy
The gentle breeze ran its smooth fingers over the gnarled branches, softly caressing the autumn leaves, creating a hypnotic whisper of rustling as I strode down the cracked cobblestone path. The melody of birdsong and the soft gurgling sound emanating from a nearby stream; the music of nature, echoed around my troubled mind. For a moment, I felt the weight of the worldly affairs diminish, creating a brief pinprick of light in the shroud of darkness around me. Hope. The edges of my lips twitched slightly, and for the first time since she died, a ghost of a smile crossed my lips. For the briefest instant, happiness gathered me up in its motherly embrace, and my eyes fluttered shut, allowing myself to drift away, far from the troubled waters I had steered myself into. Is this what life was like before? So calm, so pleasant, so... happy?
Happiness. Something I had lost a long time ago. Or maybe it was never mine in the first place. It is a seducer, a destroyer of man. Its lulls, its whispers, all of it come down to nothing in the end. Why? Does happiness exist just to vanish when we are at the pinnacle of our lives, leaving us with false hopes that rip and tear us apart, shattering the very heart that it occupied mere seconds ago? If so, then it is the Devil’s accomplice, a follower of Satan himself! It feeds on the raw desires of man, causing him to lust after what is not his, giving him an iota of joy just as he achieves what he has strived for, but then cruelly snatching it away, leaving him wanting more. Man is never, and will never be satisfied, for he craves that precise moment of attaining his deepest desires. His needs are satisfied, yes, but how long will it take for him to lust again? Minutes, maybe or even seconds! Happiness is a drug, and its lack thereof could incur the destruction of man.
If there is one thing I have learnt throughout my forty years on this miserable earth, it is that happiness does not last. It exists, yes, who could deny that? It comes, bringing waves of euphoria crashing upon us, and then goes, leaving a trail of destruction and devastation in its wake. We feel that intense emotion for but moments, until reality, with a heart of granite, drags us back to where we truly belong. It is where we were meant to be all along. It is who we are.
For years I have pondered upon this. Seconds slowly tick away on my life’s clock as question after question surfaced in my turbulent mind, appearing briefly before its place is taken by yet another of its many nameless counterparts. I concluded, that, like true love, happiness does exist, but it does not last forever. It is merely an illusion, a trickery of sorts that leaves us hungry in the chest, weaving webs of confusion and disarray in our complicated lives.
Everyone has been happy before, at least once. Maybe it was the birth of your first child, or the gift you had always wanted, or simply being with your loved ones. These ‘magical’ moments are those that people treasure throughout their lives, thinking that every time it materialises in their minds, the happiness that they once felt would come again. What fools! Happiness is not something you can store away, and then unveil whenever you are down. It comes when it will, for it is not something that can be called upon at your leisure. When we need it most, it abandons us, leaving us clawing at our hearts in frustration.
A slow sigh escaped my tired lips, and I fixed my eyes upon the path that lay before me. Years of neglect had all but destroyed the “Road of Yellow Bricks”, something I nicknamed this well-worn path in my early days of childhood, reminiscent of The Wizard of Oz. But, unlike the classic, no Emerald City lay at the end. No dreams, no hopes, no desires could be achieved. Had Dorothy been here, she would have curled up on the well-worn bricks and wept her heart out, for never would this road lead her back to Kansas. For this path, I knew, would eventually lead me towards my destiny.
Shrieks of laughter echoed in my mind, dragging me back to the past I had tried for so long to forget. Countless days had passed as I lay in the darkness of an old, tumbledown hut, hoping and praying that what had happened was but a dream, a mere figment of my overactive imagination. But the darkness haunted me, slowly devouring my very heart and soul, leading me on a path towards endless despair. The days and night crept by, but I no longer paid any interest to the events around me. Sometimes, tears would flow down my cheeks, dampening the old, musty pillow I had laid my head upon. These were often accompanied by plunges of an icy dagger deep into my heart, so sharp that I felt my body being torn apart.
I had screamed, punched the walls till my knuckles were a bloodied mess, and gouged the skin on my face with my torn fingernails, trying to escape the infinite pain that had manifested deep within me on that fateful day. I had thought that the physical pain would chase away the mental torture, but it failed. But no matter how many drops of blood I shed, how much flesh I tore into, the pain remained, gripping my heart so tightly that it might burst. During those days, all I wanted was for the pain to end. Death would have been welcome, but like all our deepest desires, it eluded me, always in sight, but when I reached out to grasp it, would disappear once more into eternity.
One day, the grief, the pain, all disappeared, replaced by anger so fierce that it consumed me. I felt a raging inferno within my very soul, and for the first time, I stopped praying for my own death, but wished it upon someone else. The one who had brought all this torture and suffering upon me. I wanted him to burn, to roast in the pits of hell. I wanted to see his eyes widen with fear, to see his pathetic lips pleading and beseeching me to stop. I wanted the satisfaction of watching his helplessness as I wreaked my revenge upon those he holds most dear. I wanted revenge.
The fury slowly spread to every pore in my body, and as the days passed, countless thoughts filled my mind, of the many ways he would suffer after what he did to me. Not once did I feel even an ounce of pity, for I had seen what he was capable of, what he so heartlessly had done to me. His eyes were cold as steel, as he raised the gun and fired the two shots that changed me forever. His smirch, wide upon his face, burned into my mind, and I focused upon wiping that from his face once and for all.
The cracking of a branch flung me back to the present, away from my troubled past. Instinctively, I ducked behind a tree, my right hand reaching for the Colt at my waist. I released the safety and laid my finger upon the trigger, slowly peering around the thick, knotted trunk of the centuries-old oak. A man strode into view, and I recognised him as the one who stood aside and laughed while I pleaded helplessly to his master. He was the one who tied me up, who spat and urinated on me as I begged him for mercy, not for myself, but for those who were about to meet their end upon his master’s hands. As I gazed upon his confident features, his sharp eyes and crooked nose, I felt hatred well up inside me. My right hand rose slowly, until the tip of the gun was pointed directly at his forehead. My index finger closed upon the trigger, and gently, I squeezed it.
But then I stopped, realising how stupid I had been. If I shot him, his master would hear the shots and escape. Then I would miss my chance at the vengeance I had been wanting for so long. So I controlled myself, telling my heart that this man too would die soon, and he too would plead me to spare his life. No, I would wait. Quietly, I watched as the man glanced all around before deciding that it was safe. Then, he went back into the trees. I heaved a sigh of relief. For a moment, I had been so consumed with emotion and almost sacrificed the moment I have been waiting for.
All was silent again. I stood behind the tree, waiting, until finally the men appeared again, this time with another in tow. In his hands was a heavy leather briefcase, and he set it down onto the ground. I knew exactly what it contained. Millions of dollars in cash that would be essential for the deal about to take place moments from now.
I thought about all the preparations I had made for this day, for a moment that was about to come. The countless wiretaps, the hacking, and the research I have done to find out exactly where and when the next deal would take place. As an ex-CIA agent, everything came easily. I had the knowledge, and I had the necessary contacts to do what I wanted. An inside man helped me set the wiretaps so that I could listen to the private conversations between the man and his ‘business’ associates. One of my friends, an expert hacker, had broke into his computer and gave me all the details I need. With all the information I gathered, I debated for a long time before I chose the day that would bring an end to it all.
Another man appeared, a Chinese national with dark hair and tattoo of a tiger on his forearm. He walked with confidence, a strut bordering on being greater than those he was about to meet. His hands were empty, but I could see the bulge of a handgun at the small of his back, which he would not hesitate to use should the situation persist. I watched as the man approached the duo. Words were exchanged before the briefcase was handed over. Then the man turned around and disappeared into the trees.
The duo too started to move, but I stepped out of my hiding place and fired two shots into the head of the accomplice. He fell, blood pouring forth from the bullet holes in his head. The other man stopped, and turned around. Shock registered upon his features before they were hastily rearranged into a pleasant smile.
“So, I assume you’re here to kill me.”
I stayed silent, my gun pointed at his heart.
“I’m sorry about your family,” he said, without a trace or remorse in his voice. “But after what you had done to me, it was necessary.”
“Shut up, bastard!” I screamed.
“You destroyed one of my operations. You thought you were some sort of white knight, riding in upon your stallion to save damsels in distress. But those are mere whores! Sluts who aren’t worth anything! They exist merely to satisfy the lusts of the powerful. But you ruined my business and cost me tremendous losses that night. Those whores were worth a lot of money, and you destroyed our operation. So, to get even, I paid you and your family a nightly visit.”
My mind flashed back to that night. We were having dinner, my wife, my ten-year-old daughter and I. She was describing her day at school as her mother and I listened, and laughed. Then suddenly, I heard a crashing sound. Quickly, I plucked my gun from its holster at my waist, signalling to my family to head for the bedroom and call the police. When they were safely locked in, I slowly approached the living room. Suddenly, the lights flickered out. In the darkness, a hand covered my mouth. A sweet smell filled my nostrils and I drifted into unconsciousness.
A splash of cold water brought me back to my senses. I found my arms and legs tied together tightly with coils of wire. I struggled in vain against the bonds, until I saw what was in front of me. My heart froze, as I stared into the tearstained eyes of my wife and my daughter. They were lying naked on the ground, their hands and legs tied up like mine.
“Wake up, sleepy head. I want you to watch this, so that you know what happens to people who mess with me.” I glared with hatred at the man who stood in front of me. Then a rush of realisation hit me like a bolt from the blue. Suddenly I felt cold. Icy cold.
“No, please don’t. Do whatever you want with me, but leave them alone,” I pleaded, but they merely laughed in my face. His associate held my face tightly, stuffing a lump of cloth into my mouth and forced me to look upon the evil about to happen.
“You know what I despise about people like you? The heroics. The ‘hurt me, not them’ attitude that so many of you possess. Don’t worry, you will be hurt enough by the end of the night.” His hands moved to his buckles, and slowly, all the while grinning at me, he began to undo his pants.
“Rapist! Murderer!” I shouted, shaking with anger. Beads of sweat were flowing down my forehead and my gun-wielding hand, causing it to slip slightly.
But he merely smiled. A teasing, mocking smile. Then suddenly a force flung me forwards and onto the ground. I looked down, and saw the wound leaking blood on my stomach.
He was laughing now. Slowly, I turned around, and saw the Chinese man, with his handgun held tightly in his hand. Its mouth was still smoking slightly.
The man who murdered my family walked up to where I lay twitching on the ground. His smile widened, showing his flawless whit teeth.
“How stupid do you think I am? Did you actually think that I would let you kill me just like that? I fed you all the information, knowing that you would come after me, and you fell for it!”
He lifted his foot and brought it down, hard, upon the wound in my stomach. I screamed in agony and lashed out at him with my weak feet, but he evaded me easily. He applied more pressure, and I gritted my teeth to stop myself from screaming again. That would just give him the satisfaction of seeing me in pain, and I refuse to do that. The other man was approaching, his gun trained on my head.
“Before you die, I just wanted to tell you that your daughter was simply, delicious,” he said, licking his lips as I struggled in vain on the ground.
“Any last words before you die?” he said, smiling his enigmatic smile.
Blood was filling my mouth, but I managed to choke out the two words that would be my last.
“Yes. Goodbye.”
I pulled a grenade out of my pocket, and smiled.
There was a flash of light, then everything when black.
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Defying Gravity
He stood at the very edge of the precipice, staring down at the waves crashing against the rocky cliff wall. The salty breeze ran its fingers through his hair, giving him tousled and windswept appearance. Drops of sea spray trickled down his bare chest, which heaved as he took a deep breath. Above, the cloudless sky filled with the calls of seagulls, an incessant cawing, a cacophony of chorusing birds. Slowly, he spread his arms wide, and allowed himself to succumb to the pull of gravity.
* * * *
* * * *
An image slowly formed in his mind. An indistinct face, devoid of features, blurred by the dark clouds of his memories. He strained himself, forcing his brain to once again conjure up the image of the one he loved. Slowly, a pair of eyes began to form, bright cerulean irises that once shimmered beneath the moonlight of Paris. A nose, which had once inhaled the fragrance of companionship. And lastly, those lips, the ones that always lingered for a moment too long whenever they parted. He could still feel the warmth of them upon his own, and gently his fingers caressed them, as if trying to relieve those instants.
A sudden pang of loss hit him, and he collapsed to his knees, beads of moisture running down his cheeks. He felt as if his heart had been torn out, ripped from his very flesh, and the raw agony of it spread like liquid fire through his veins. He raised the well-worn shirt to his face, breathing in the scent of a long lost love. It hurt so badly. His heart ached with an increasing ferocity, and for the first time since the incident, he wished he was dead. Anything to stem the waves of pain crashing down upon his weakened shoulders, the weight too heavy for him to bear.
The pale moonlight streamed through the windows, bathing him in its dull glow. He raised his eyes towards the heavens and uttered a single word. “Why?”
* * * *
* * * *
It was late when he first heard the news. He had prepared a special dinner, to celebrate his beloved’s birthday. As he laid the tables, arranging the forks and spoons side by side, laying down the plates and finally lowering the casserole on the table. Beside it stood a vase of flowers, which he had carefully picked from the garden they both tended with such loving care. A silver candelabra occupied the centre of the mahogany table, and as he slowly placed candles into each holder, the phone rang.
He laid the candles down, wiped his hands on a piece of cloth, and headed for the living room. Humming a slight tune, he tapped his feet in time with the song. Endless Love. A true classic they had listened to when they first fell in love. The tender vocals awash as they shared their first kiss, upon a moonlit beach, basking in the comfort of finally realizing they were meant for each other.
Still tapping his feet, his right hand reached out and grabbed the receiver, holding it up to his ear. The first couple of words stunned him, and his face turned pale as a statue. Slowly, he knelt to the ground, the receiver slipping from between his weakened fingers. As the first tear rolled down his cheek, all he could think of was that moment, when they realized what their feelings really meant.
* * * *
It was a group of neighborhood kids, he was told. They were drunk, and out looking for trouble. Few of the words registered in his mind, as only a single thought occupied his mind; the fact that his one and only love was no longer there. He was alone, alone in a crowded world, which refused to accept him for who he truly is, and for some, even despised him.
Meeting his beloved was the one time he felt he belonged somewhere, that he wasn’t a lost soul in the middle of a sea of people. It was then that he had finally found meaning in his life, instead of just being a joke, one who was constantly bullied and abused just for being born.
For how long he had resisted the taunts and accusations raining down upon him like hailstones from those around him, and when he met the one he loved, he had thought that it was all worth it. The feeling of never blending in, of being an outcast; it was all finally worth it, because he had found true happiness. With it, he realized that nothing could hurt him, for there was an invisible shield of love that protected him from the malevolence in his life.
But now, it was all gone, lost forever because of a group of teenagers who had been raised to think that people like him were monsters. That they didn’t deserve to live on this Earth with the rest of them. That they are scum, and should be treated so. He didn’t really blame them; he blamed society at large, for distorting the truth in the minds of the young, teaching them to hate instead of love, to deny instead of to accept. But most of all, he blamed himself, for thinking that it would all work out, for thinking that people could change and accept them for who they were. It was all his fault. He had tried to defy gravity, and in the process, had come crashing to the ground.
* * * *
* * * *
As he fell through the sky, a single thought filled his mind.
I’m sorry.
Then he crashed through the waves, and he saw the darkness close above him, swallowing him into its gaping maw.
* * * *
* * * *
The first thing he realized was that his whole body ached. There was a warm taste in his mouth, and he realized that it was blood. His blood.
Am I dead?
He was lying on a rough surface, which rubbed against his raw skin as he struggled to get up. Slowly, painfully, he opened his eyes.
A beach.
When he finally managed to drag himself into a sitting position, he realized that he had been washed ashore, dumped on the beach like the bits of driftwood around him.
The sun was setting, filling the waters with a scarlet brilliance, too beautiful to comprehend. For a moment his raging heart was calmed, like the waves lapping at his feet. With all the darkness surrounding it, there was still beauty in the world.
Then it hit him. He was alive. He had defied gravity, and lived. Maybe he did belong, after all.
