November 14, 2009
By Bingpong BRONZE, Chicago, Illinois
Bingpong BRONZE, Chicago, Illinois
4 articles 1 photo 2 comments

Favorite Quote:
Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read.

I was standing in a hallway, if it was the word for this kind of place. The hall seemed to be… flooded. It was filled with water, or was made of water from ceiling to floor sounded more like it. But strange that I could stand on the surface and did not sink down to the bottom. This looked like an aquarium under water where you will walk in a glass hallway and can see fishes swimming around you, underneath your feet, and above your head. But I couldn’t see any fish around here, so it wasn’t an aquarium, then. The hall was beautiful with an overall view and it was peaceful. “The floor” was soft and transparent under my feet. It had the color of the ocean in the morning, a pure blue. But I knew that deep down to the bottom was darkness. Only seeing it was enough to make the back of my neck’s hair stood in attention. I took a hesitated step forward and the water vibrated in small waves, curved around my foot in circles. It was cool and smooth to the touch. Slowly I walked and stared down at it, afraid that somehow this water-made-mirror might break and downwards I drown. Paranoid is me. The wall was a big curtain of wavy water. I could see my self-reflection clearly from its pure blue like from a mirror. I brushed my finger tips along the wall as I walked. The movement got my hand wet. It was real water. The water flowed down my fingers in tiny drops, shining and pure. Slowly, I raised my index finger to my mouth and licked the water off the tip in a quick motion, tasting it. It was salty like sea water and… tears. I looked around, puzzled. What was this place? Was it heaven? Was I dead? No, heaven was probably white, I thought. So this was not heaven, then I wasn’t dead. I was one million percent sure I really was dreaming. Cautiously, I walked forward, not sure where I was going, didn’t know if this was a right thing to do.
There was a corner at the end of the hall, I followed it and saw a big room filled of people. They dressed formally all in black and turned their back to me. They seem to look towards something which made me curious enough to rise on tiptoe to see through. With them standing in my sight, I could not see a thing. I tried to push my way through the sea of people and had an image of a man was standing next to a coffin. A coffin? It was a funeral.
The man was probably in his forty and about five feet seven tall. He was wearing a black suit with high collar white shirt completed with a dark gray tie. His hair was black with a bit of white above his ears area. It did not make him older. He cut it short enough to left his face clear and bright. His square face filled with sadness and agony. The line of his jaw tightened, looked like he was clenching his teeth, locking them together as if afraid opening them would make him burst out crying. His brown glittering eyes opened wide; he tried so hard not to blink to hold back the coming tears that the tension so obvious. He had been holding a little girl’s hand. She was young, about three or so, dressed in a round-necked collar black dress which hung down to her knees. It could have bloomed like a flower if she swayed. A pair of black ballet shoes with tiny white bows completed the outfit. Her hair was brown with a touch of black, wavy, framed around her pump-face. Her pinkish cheeks stood out of the paleness of her skin. Her eyes were a color of soft, chocolate, large with thick black line of lashes. She was staring at the man crumbled face confusingly. There was nothing shown on her face but naivety and wonder as if she did not know what was happening.
Those large eyes I turned to me. She gave me long steady look full of questions. I did not know what to do so I smiled awkwardly at her and dropped my gaze. I considered it was rude to smile in a funeral while people around you were suffering the pain of loss. Good thing that nobody saw that but the girl, so I was safe not to be yelled at. I looked at the coffin which was a rich dark of wood, polished, and… simple. Its lid had been opened, white satin lined inside. A woman was lying in there, head rested on a pillow, hands were laid on her stomach, and long slender fingers weaved together. Her golden brown hair spilled over the pillow, wavy and soft like velvet that I fought an urge to come closer and touch. She was dressed in a white dress which matched the inside of the coffin. It flung down almost to her ankle.
There was something about the woman that very familiar. Seeing her made my stomach jerk. The girl was at my side now. She patted my hand lightly. Eyes filled with concerned. I neither asked her what was happening nor reacted to her concern-filled look.
She was murmuring something over and over. It was too low that I had to bend down to hear.
“Mommy is sleeping. She is sleeping.” She said.
Everything suddenly became a mess in my head. A flood of memories hit me, filled my mind in a painful way. I tried to scream but the scream was choked in my dried throat. I cried and it was hard to swallow, in my throat burned like it was on fire. My chest tightened and I couldn’t breathe. I could hear my own heart pounding in my ears like drum. I tried to gasp for air through my mouth and collapsed on the floor. I could taste my pulse at the back of my throat. I swallowed hard enough I could hear and it hurt on the way down. My head hurt with the things kept coming and squeezing it. I struggled in the pain, rocking back and forth on the floor with my eyes squeezed shut, hands holding my head, and things became clear again. I gave away a gasp and opened my eyes, breath still came rapidly. The girl touched my shoulder and I jumped. I raised my face to look at her.
“Ivy, don’t cry!” She murmured.
My eyes burned, and I felt tears more tears flowed down my cheeks. I realized her; it was my little sister, Sophie. I held her innocent face in my hands and drew her into me. I kissed her forehead and hugged her tightly, hand combing through her hair in quick movements, face buried in her shoulder. I cried harder and still didn’t know the reason why I was so hurt. I raised my face to look at Sophie and saw… my dad over her head. He wasn’t looking at me and he wouldn’t. His eyes were shut and I saw a single tear flowed down his cheek. He just stood there, restraining the agony. I released my sister and looked back to the coffin. I tried to see through the tears filled my eyes. I wiped them off furiously and crawled on four toward the dark open coffin. I gripped the edge of it and pulled myself up.
“Mommy?” I said.
The word came out trembling and chokingly in my throat. She was beautiful. She was always beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the world. And she was my mom. My mom.
“Mommy! Mommy! It’s me! Mommy!” I shook her hand gently. Her eyes closed, long lashes were dark against the pale skin. I had forgotten how pale my mom was which I inherited from her. Her lips were as pale as a paper. She was sleeping. Yes, she was sleeping. That was what Sophie told me. Sophie never lied, she never told a lie. But why didn’t I see mom breathe? Why her chest did not fall up and down with the movement? I patted her cheek then cupped her face in both hands. I shook her harder but she did not react. She went so still that scared me. The tears kept coming and blurring my vision, flowing down my cheeks, my lips. I gripped her arm, dug my fingernails in hard to get her attention, to make her eyes open for me. My gripped left marks on her limp arm.
“Oh, I know, I know!” I said. “You mad at me because I hurt you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry that I hurt you, ok, mom? Open your eyes!”
I rubbed the arm over and over. “Mom! Stop pretending! I know you are pretending. I don’t want to play game!” I cried.
My voice came high and trembling with tears. I knelt by the coffin, kept shaking her. “Please, please, please! Please look at me! Please!”
“Dad! Dad! Wake mom up! Wake her up!” I turned, begging him but both he and Sophie were not there. They had gone; they had all disappeared with the people. I was scared. The picture was no more beautiful; no more happiness. It was all dark to me right now with mom wouldn’t open her eyes because she mad at me.
A terrible thing happened. My mom felt very soft to the touch. Her body was becoming pasty and wet and sticky under my hands. She began to rot. The skin came off in a thick wet liquid, pulling her face melting like ice. Her hair started falling, leaving her head in a mess of greenish slime. The dress she had been wearing now was soaked with the sticky liquid of her rotting body.
I screamed in shock and released her. Something invisible wrapped me around the waist and pulled me with great force. I flung backward, away from my mother.
“MOM!” I screamed and the coffin’s lid snapped close.
I was suddenly under the water. I choked on it and drank a stomach full of salty water. I came up gasping for air but dashes of violent waves hit me, hushed me down to the dark bottom. I used all force to kick my legs, tried to reach the surface hopelessly. My nose and lungs were burned with the water filled in them. White spots started to appear and darkness poured over my eyes, clouded my vision slowly. I drown and in the moment I saw my mother’s rotted body flowed beside me. Her face was almost had nothing left, so terrible that I was scared to look at. The eyes were gone, left alone the empty sockets staring at me.
I woke up screaming.

The author's comments:
I'm not a native American. I can speak english but not very well. I love reading and wrting, so I submit my first work. Hope you guys will like it (of course there are lots of mistakes and wrong grammars in this one)

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This article has 1 comment.

on Dec. 8 2009 at 9:48 pm
Bingpong BRONZE, Chicago, Illinois
4 articles 1 photo 2 comments

Favorite Quote:
Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read.

Oh my god! Reading my work again, I see so many mistakes which I didn't pay any attention to before. More careful next time, then.


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