Chapter 0 - Prologue
Submitted August 23, 2006 Updated September 9, 2006 Status Incomplete | I haven't figured out a name for the story yet, so this default title shall do for now. :D Anyway, this is just a snipet of my web of thoughts surrounding a particular group of characters I created. Hmm, I've got this idea going, and I have a few chapters of it down, but I'm not sure if I'll go through with it. I trash a lot of ideas. So, don't be surprised if the next sample of writing I put up is totally different. And no, I do not have a title for this story. It will remain nameless until I find one. Any critique and comments are highly appreciated.
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Chapter 0 - Prologue
Chapter 0 - Prologue
Prologue
It was a sunny day that August morning.
Too sunny. It was so cheerful and bright, one would say it almost sounds silly that a funeral took place during that time. Yes, the holy ritual of burying a loved one deep into the earth, literally putting the memory of them out of sight, therefore out of mind.
My poor sister. She never liked bugs, not to mention small spaces. So you can imagine how painful it was for me to watch her casket to be lowered slowly into the ground, as my father kept on looking at his watch and having that look of urgency, to go someplace else. You’d think that, as a father, this moment would be harder for him than it was for me. But strangely, it wasn’t.
I was a stubborn little boy back then. I refused to cry a single tear in the midst of all those so called friends and family. They didn’t deserve to share this last moment, with one of the few people I cared about with me.
I was a truly selfish boy.
The priest was murmuring his sermons and prayers, and I could feel that same tingle of rage and anger I felt when I felt my sister’s hand go limp. At that moment, my belief for the Catholic god was demolished. I suppose I was jumping to conclusions back then; indeed I was naïve, for I was only 12. However, as I reminiscence on my past, it made me ponder if that was when this whole mess started, anyway. When I had the foolish idea of demolishing the very thing that life depended on.
I presume I’ll never know for sure.
A tear never escaped my eyes as the people in black started walking away. They too seemed to have someplace to go, having no time to share even more than another second of their life to remember and honor the life she lead. No one to share my sadness with. As much as I hated them, I wanted someone to be pained along with me, which angered me even more. To maintain my stubborn facade was the hardest thing to do in my life.
I just wanted someone to care.
At that moment, I felt a warmth wrap around my fingers. I stared at it, just to look up and see a familiar face gazing back at me. The face belongs to a girl I know. Someone who could have very well saved me and the people around me the trouble I caused in the future to come. She wasn’t the prettiest girl to look at, but she had the sort of face you’d like to see when you’re sick, or when you need help. A face where you can find comfort in.
Her hand gripped mine firmly as her eyes turned glassy, whispering my name in the most sincerest voice. “Cian.”
My voice choked. I was annoyed at the fact that I could feel hot tears rolling down my cheeks, just at the sound of her words. I never liked the way she could make me cry so easily.
“Aura,” I choked out, heaving huge sobs, “she was only seven years old.”
I cried, but didn’t bother to wipe away the tears. She did nothing to embrace me or to further acknowledge her presence, but just stood by, gripping my hand. And, for some odd reason, that was enough.
The birds were chirping and the lively sounds of the city life were all around us. The noise was so loud, it was almost unbearable to see that the world truly did continue spinning after that event. But somehow, being in the console of a friend, made it all the less lonelier.
I never did thank her for all the things she has done for me.
I wish I took the chance to tell her my thoughts and feelings, but now, I’m afraid that it may be too late.
It was a sunny day that August morning.
Too sunny. It was so cheerful and bright, one would say it almost sounds silly that a funeral took place during that time. Yes, the holy ritual of burying a loved one deep into the earth, literally putting the memory of them out of sight, therefore out of mind.
My poor sister. She never liked bugs, not to mention small spaces. So you can imagine how painful it was for me to watch her casket to be lowered slowly into the ground, as my father kept on looking at his watch and having that look of urgency, to go someplace else. You’d think that, as a father, this moment would be harder for him than it was for me. But strangely, it wasn’t.
I was a stubborn little boy back then. I refused to cry a single tear in the midst of all those so called friends and family. They didn’t deserve to share this last moment, with one of the few people I cared about with me.
I was a truly selfish boy.
The priest was murmuring his sermons and prayers, and I could feel that same tingle of rage and anger I felt when I felt my sister’s hand go limp. At that moment, my belief for the Catholic god was demolished. I suppose I was jumping to conclusions back then; indeed I was naïve, for I was only 12. However, as I reminiscence on my past, it made me ponder if that was when this whole mess started, anyway. When I had the foolish idea of demolishing the very thing that life depended on.
I presume I’ll never know for sure.
A tear never escaped my eyes as the people in black started walking away. They too seemed to have someplace to go, having no time to share even more than another second of their life to remember and honor the life she lead. No one to share my sadness with. As much as I hated them, I wanted someone to be pained along with me, which angered me even more. To maintain my stubborn facade was the hardest thing to do in my life.
I just wanted someone to care.
At that moment, I felt a warmth wrap around my fingers. I stared at it, just to look up and see a familiar face gazing back at me. The face belongs to a girl I know. Someone who could have very well saved me and the people around me the trouble I caused in the future to come. She wasn’t the prettiest girl to look at, but she had the sort of face you’d like to see when you’re sick, or when you need help. A face where you can find comfort in.
Her hand gripped mine firmly as her eyes turned glassy, whispering my name in the most sincerest voice. “Cian.”
My voice choked. I was annoyed at the fact that I could feel hot tears rolling down my cheeks, just at the sound of her words. I never liked the way she could make me cry so easily.
“Aura,” I choked out, heaving huge sobs, “she was only seven years old.”
I cried, but didn’t bother to wipe away the tears. She did nothing to embrace me or to further acknowledge her presence, but just stood by, gripping my hand. And, for some odd reason, that was enough.
The birds were chirping and the lively sounds of the city life were all around us. The noise was so loud, it was almost unbearable to see that the world truly did continue spinning after that event. But somehow, being in the console of a friend, made it all the less lonelier.
I never did thank her for all the things she has done for me.
I wish I took the chance to tell her my thoughts and feelings, but now, I’m afraid that it may be too late.
~~~
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