Even today I still close my eyes and the darkness will hover my Iris like the veil of the hat's widow. The moment my eyelids shut's, I'll find myself sinking into depression and start to panic. Clenching my fists like I'm about to jump off a cliff. I was starting to believe I have phobia to close my eyes or It's was the fear of being chased by the memories of the past. Just when I'll be standing still, the traffic sounds will begin to buzz so loud In my ears and people's voices will follow from the past that I know of.
“Please! Detective, please my husband Is at the airport, his not In that car. Right? He called, my husband called just five minutes ago. We we're about to go to a trip, we....”
“Ma'am”
“His only four Detective, only four years old. Please say something to my son”
“I'm sorry”
“No!! no, no please say something to my son. Please tell him it's a mistake!” My mother's voice will haunt me with agony, breathing so cold next to my ear as she clutched me tight. The scene will feel so current even my body will feel right there present. The glass will drop down and break on the floor the moment they're open again, utterly shaken to even make speech.
Here is my story...
I grew up as a cheerful boy that had a mother that I was raised by. You can say Pen cakes, drawing walls and a soccer ball has always been every boy's perfect diary. And in my childhood years I dont remember not having It all. Pretty much, I would be frank that I also played under the trees of spring, dodging water guns with my sisters and brothers but please do not question yet, where is that now.
Because the answer will be 'Six feet under' buried from all second chances and up until now those memories are a vanity of a one's flash backs because not even one of us, bare to travel back to the past even if it cost us not to see the pictures of our loved ones.
Sneers
Tell me how can you? face the faces of five deceased people? Who meant the world to you?
Questions began, but thoughts were too young by that time. I remember it happened around December in 2000, before I was in my first grade at school. You can say I'm gifted with a vivid memory.
It was 8 am in Stellenbosch, I was so sure since I heard that time response from my father, right after we packed the bags to the Van's boot. It's been pouring ever since last night and the window is wet from the rain drops but slowly becoming dry, once In a while I'll check. All I could hear Is the wheels steaming on the road, sounding like the bathroom showers as the tyre's hit over the waters that we're a dam after the rain. I don't think we're too fast but the car was definitely moving a little off speed. That's when I heard Mom's request. “Petterson, slow down please” So briefly at the passenger seat.
There was I, busy smashing a Batman's toy in front of my chest with the ball at my left hand wrestling with each other. I've even gave the ball a character, naming her 'Pluto' it's a tiny woman I crafted with matches sticks attached to the very small ball. Making her a sissy with a wobbly fat head. I know right, I was a very creative little boy back then. “You're bad wife, give me back my money!” I muttered bossy. Grooming my voice to thunder like an old man but instead It made me sound like a headless chicken. Gasping It's last breath on the ground as always. The chuckles cracked on top of the roof car, from my siblings. Paige, Zoe and Christopher. It look's like they've been paying attention. “Sorry buddy you ain't there yet” Zoe giggled even louder at her seat to my left. “Where do you get these storylines anyways?” Paige Mockingly questioned. “He watches too much Toy story this one” Christopher added funny. I took a quick glance at him behind me with my peach tiny lips curling and then I sat straight back playing.
Until Bank accounts conversation poped up between mom and dad while we're on that. Made me predict they were talking about the budget. Which I hoped it included a couple of things I was expecting from them. Purchasing my most wanted Dragon toys, Simba chips and Woody from the Toy story. I was watching alot of his movie series those days and Christopher wasn't lying. Though it was irritating to hear him accuse me of watching worn out trailers. I mean, just because I played repeats every weekend, who'd say Woody the greatest cowboy can be worn out? Is that even possible? I took a gaze at him behind me since I was sat on his lap in the backseat. Rolling my eyes after he has tapped my Batman with his skinny tall fingers. He was sixteen and so I've heard sixteen year old's have temper issues. But never did I thought that of him. He was rather an elder brother who was always hard to read during the mornings. Distant and very quiet across the table with everyone else but except me. He wouldn't miss to make funny faces at me on top of his cereal bowl, everytime his eating breakfast and the jokes worked like a charm at my chair. But on the evenings? oh he'll be fixated on his phone like his life depended on it. Perhaps a girlfriend making him behave that way? I heard girlfriends and boyfriends make you do unusual things. Well, I really thought he was the coolest brother anyways. I'm still playing along while thinking all of this, you can say I was a restless thinker as a child.
