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twenty-five
I found myself in the dark at 12:03. The night air was chilly. Only the moon's glow served as light in my dimly lit room.
I slowly opened the window, covered with a thin, long curtain, to witness the message of the dawning night.
I found myself in a corner of my room, quietly observing the movement of clouds dancing as they touched the reflection of the moon.
After a few seconds, my mother suddenly appeared, seemingly surprised to see me there.
She approached me slowly, silently observing the traces of happiness on my face. Her eyes were full of unspoken questions, hinting at tears.
But suddenly, the events that followed disturbed my sanity. Like the hypnotism of a serene night, despite the silence, the sky was gradually enveloped in a dark sorrow.
I woke up on the twenty-sixth of September. It was half past five in the morning, and my mother was usually busy preparing breakfast. "But why do the surroundings feel so gloomy?" I whispered to myself.
From the door of my room, I spotted my mother slightly turning away from the arranged chairs. The living room was bright with the light from the bulbs surrounding the white object adorned with fragrant flowers.
I slowly approached the light of the living room. When I finally saw it, I could hardly open my stiffened mouth, and my chilling hands couldn't move.
As I glanced at the object lying on the mirror, a young man flashed before me. A man in a peaceful slumber. Thick powder covered his face, and he was impeccably dressed in a blue fitted suit.
"Ma, who is he?" I asked my mother, who was still sobbing. She had no other answer but the words she uttered in the written letter.
Mama,
Perhaps I won't be here when you read this letter. I don't know who else to turn to. I can no longer fulfill your dreams for me. It's hard to live, especially as I breathe, and my sadness and failures grow. If only I didn't live in a poor society, like a prison where everywhere there's an iron barrier to block my dreams and desires, maybe I would still fight. Maybe I would still try to break the anger in my chest. I apologize if I made this decision without your knowledge. I am afraid you might reject me, as you did with my sister, who got pregnant at fourteen. I failed you too, and at this point, I am determined to end this struggle. Farewell.
With love, Leo
Hot tears streamed down my eyes. Only then did I remember the white curtain on the window that I folded to create makeshift comfort.
I saw my old photo in a frame on the rectangular mirror. It was only then that I realized that my last night was September 25.
© ubik
I slowly opened the window, covered with a thin, long curtain, to witness the message of the dawning night.
I found myself in a corner of my room, quietly observing the movement of clouds dancing as they touched the reflection of the moon.
After a few seconds, my mother suddenly appeared, seemingly surprised to see me there.
She approached me slowly, silently observing the traces of happiness on my face. Her eyes were full of unspoken questions, hinting at tears.
But suddenly, the events that followed disturbed my sanity. Like the hypnotism of a serene night, despite the silence, the sky was gradually enveloped in a dark sorrow.
I woke up on the twenty-sixth of September. It was half past five in the morning, and my mother was usually busy preparing breakfast. "But why do the surroundings feel so gloomy?" I whispered to myself.
From the door of my room, I spotted my mother slightly turning away from the arranged chairs. The living room was bright with the light from the bulbs surrounding the white object adorned with fragrant flowers.
I slowly approached the light of the living room. When I finally saw it, I could hardly open my stiffened mouth, and my chilling hands couldn't move.
As I glanced at the object lying on the mirror, a young man flashed before me. A man in a peaceful slumber. Thick powder covered his face, and he was impeccably dressed in a blue fitted suit.
"Ma, who is he?" I asked my mother, who was still sobbing. She had no other answer but the words she uttered in the written letter.
Mama,
Perhaps I won't be here when you read this letter. I don't know who else to turn to. I can no longer fulfill your dreams for me. It's hard to live, especially as I breathe, and my sadness and failures grow. If only I didn't live in a poor society, like a prison where everywhere there's an iron barrier to block my dreams and desires, maybe I would still fight. Maybe I would still try to break the anger in my chest. I apologize if I made this decision without your knowledge. I am afraid you might reject me, as you did with my sister, who got pregnant at fourteen. I failed you too, and at this point, I am determined to end this struggle. Farewell.
With love, Leo
Hot tears streamed down my eyes. Only then did I remember the white curtain on the window that I folded to create makeshift comfort.
I saw my old photo in a frame on the rectangular mirror. It was only then that I realized that my last night was September 25.
© ubik
