Empty Rooms

I walked through the halls of the hospital. 15…16…17…19…23… My eyes scanning for the room number ’55’.

 

I felt cold. I felt weak. I felt weaker than the people behind these doors on my sides. My legs were starting to abandon me, going shivery and weaker by each flying minute. One room (25) was empty. The wardrobe open and the bed scattered and empty, with only a packed bag on top of it. And my heart squeaked and shivered. Some patient in there, died.

 

To me, I’d rather go in a haunted house with ghosts living inside, than to enter a hospital. It’s not because of the blood, the pale old patients, the ugly nurses, or the awful food. It was because of the idea shivering through my head of how many times other legs were running across the hallways, who were now deep in their graves as yellow half eaten skeletons and dirt. It was because of how many lost souls there are now. At a time before, even if an hour ago, someone may have laid here on the ground, sobbing over his beloved one, knowing they’re not coming back. And it’s not only the halls, no.

 

And with all the thoughts and imaginations crawling in my head and scrapping my mind off, I made it, room 55. It’s not only a room I entered to visit a sick relative. It was a room, where once cold bodies lay on this bed, with nothing but their breaths brushing across the walls at night. It occurs to every one of us, they know they’re dying, they can feel it, and we can too. We can feel their bodies weaken, and their hearts tiring from the battle inside of them ‘to live, or not to live?’ was this what their hearts were asking?

“Hi, I’ve missed you,” I tried to fight my voice from cracking as I walked towards my uncle, lying on this bed.

“I’m turning grandpa, my dear,” he moaned, as we pictured our grandpa about 2 years ago, laying on a bed like this one, and 40 days later, his bed was empty.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be alright,” I tried to comfort him, but he was the one comforting me. I didn’t know what to think, but I hoped that his bed wouldn’t go empty too.

 

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Every picture has a hidden story

We stood in the balcony. There were cracks running through the wall and the wooden floor started turning into this moldish shade of yello . My son stood by my side, his tiny hands gripping my thumb. His face was the most innocent and pure thing I’ve ever saw and my wife stood at the doorstep of the balcony. Her eyes looked dreamy and wandering. Only I knew how she loved us, she often wondered what our son will grow to be. It was something I wondered about too. I carried my son and placed him on the balcony reil and our thoughts wandered as we looked at the palm trees and the streets in front of us.

“Its a beautiful world,” I thought.

“Dad! When am I going to grow up?” I tried to cover my smile as he asked me so he wouldn’t think I was mocking him.

“When time flies my son, like the bird up there,” I pointed at the white pigeon flying just above our heads. His eyes widened as he took everything in. My wife stood in front of us with a camera in her hand. She lifted the camera ,

“Smile!” And ‘click’. The sound of the camera never left my ears since then. My son jumped off holding the camera.

“Maybe when I grow uo, I’ll show this to my friends dad!”

I smiled again, “yes. Maybe you will.”

Raindrops

I sat by the end of a cliff, like the ones in happy ‘ending’ stories. Back to when everything was perfect, as a child, I believed in happy endings. I believed that you receive the good when you give to the good. I believed that when you fell asleep on couch, a magical fairy flies you back to bed. But now, as I sat by the end of a broken, ugly cliff, my mind wandered, and my beautiful garden of imagination, was now dull, ugly, and dark.

Have you ever wondered why people get insecure about themselves? Have you ever wondered what the consequences of insecurity are? And where does insecurity come from anyways? When we were young and happy, no one was insecure. Simply because, as children, we saw souls instead of bodies, we saw light in each other’s eyes instead of what color they were. We felt no stress at all, because we were confident, loyal to one another, and happy. But now, as time wrinkles our faces and crushes our hearts, when you walk past by an acquaintance, all we could see is the comparison between us, and them.

Therefore, we start to wander, as I was, sitting on this cliff. What is she/he better than me in? For one example, when a two married couple is divorced, and one marries another person, the one left behind starts to underestimate him, and dig deep the insecurities out. For another example, insecurity is also present in teenagers, the closest age to children.

Now keep your imagination wide open with me, and picture this; you are standing in your school hallway, you see the boy you like, standing by his classroom, waiting for someone. Intentionally, you start fidgeting with your hair while your friends give you the ‘looks’. Okay, so this is going well, you finally feel confident as a flame of fire burning through the night, and work your legs by past him. You catch his eyes, and he waves. Checkmate, you’ve hit the button, you think. As you pass by and you’re ready to leave, a girl walks to him, kisses him on the check, and the walk, hands locked together like your heart once was.

With a broken heart, and anxiety and insecurity fills your body, you decide to take a long walk. While walking, breaths of disappointment are heard here and there. And soon enough you end up sitting on a cliff end, watching the leaf of a plant next to you.

And right now, I am you, and you are me. I sat by the end of a cliff, watching a raindrop, on the green leaf beside me. It looked like the picture you’d get out your camera to capture right away, but I knew my heart would capture it anyways. The raindrop was nearly transparent and delicate as I’ve ever seen. It looked like it was moving, but it was slipping so slowly, it tricked your eyes to think it wasn’t. As the raindrop nearly closes to the end of the leaf, the leaf bows forward, as if gesturing the raindrop out. I thought at once that this pattern happened almost every day, it’s just us, who were too naïve not to think about the things that truly matter. Then, the raindrop slips, and falls, my eyes tracking it as it was falling off the cliff, until it was gone out of sight. In some ways, I was that raindrop. To light to weigh down anyone, but the weighs of the world were at my shoulders. To delicate, for that everyone could shape. And so, I let myself swiftly slip, falling after the raindrop, where too delicate people lay, cold, and pale.

Broken glasses

September 3rd 1940, the date I’ll never forget, the date that slit me open. The flashbacks of my mother screaming her lungs out, the picture of my father laying still, soundless on the bathroom floor, leaving us no clue except for a broken, shattered pair of glasses.

I closed my eyes shut, flailing through all the memories. I stood by my father’s grave as I broke down in tears. Imagine that your hero, and the one whom lived all his life to protect and love you, is gone. Imagine that you went from seeing someone every minute of your life, to not seeing them at all. Finally, you feel empty inside, though the weighs of the world are on top of your shoulders. Why wasn’t it me? I sobbed.

They said it was suicide, but for sure I knew this wasn’t true. That night, I had weird dreams, dreams I couldn’t explain. I swore to my mother that they weren’t normal, that they were messages, but she only calmed me down and gave me pills to sleep – the pills seemed to make things worse though. Strangely, she wasn’t depressed, or maybe she was too good at hiding it, like she wore a mask of happiness to plaster the pain away. When I saw my father lying dead, broken glasses were right next to him, I snatched them before my mother could see, and hid them in my closet.

I held the shattered glasses in one hand, trying to figure it out, like it was a mystery box.  As I was turning them upside down, I noticed something that shattered my life…

Somehow, the glasses seemed to shatter in pattern – forming a word. My eyes focused hard, what was it? And the, I got it,

“Behind you.” My mind froze. What? This made no sense. I turned around swiftly, and the face of my evil mother shocks me.

“Just the way I killed your father,” a silver blade was pulled from behind her back, and my throat tightened.

Everything was colored and hazy. My father’s eyes appeared in front of me,

“Join me son.” He spoke softly. I understood, but it was too late, but at least, I did. I followed my father into a long, narrow endless path. Into a new path I have no clue of. A path that starts with a pair of broken glasses. My mother may have thought it was the end of us, but it was only the beginning.

I await you

I don’t remember dozing off, but here I was again, in the same dream I have every night. A dark pavement, probably somewhere near the ocean, I could tell because the salty air pinched at my nose.

The pavement was dark and creep, though, it felt war and welcoming. The walls were decorated with real life white skulls, a dim light came from a further distance, allowing me the possibility to see my way. My footsteps echoed as I walked, which sent shivers through my whole body. It was so cold and quit I could hear my own heartbeat echo through the walls and my breath brushing across the ground.

So my eyes wouldn’t lose focus, I kept walking towards the light, having no clue where I was going. A corpse lay beside me, it molded with green thick layers and solid brown blood drooled down his mouth. What scared me the most was a label on his forehead saying, ”he awaits you.” And so, I ran.

I dashed with my eyes closed; I pushed the blurs away and focused. A man stood in front of me, dressed all in white. His face was dim and cold, he was no cheerful man. His eyes went drooling down his face, like he hadn’t slept for years. He stared at me and whispered, ”I awaited you, now that you had come…”

That was the last thing I heard before I felt my soul being slipped away. My eyes glossed from the hell above, watching my beloved people forget me. Now, I await them too.

Illusions

The walls around me changed colors often, they’d turn various shades of blue,swimming around my face, mocking me. They all looked sick, ”they need someone to cure them,” I thought. They didn’t drink blood like i did, they drank some weird invisible serum, they weren’t human.

”Here, take your medicine,” that strange lady stared at me like i was some kind of monster.

”Who are you?”

”I’m your nurse. My name is grace.”

”Why am i here grace?”

”Because your sick.” Now she upset me. I reached for the glass of the weird serum they called water, and smashed it on her head. I don’t know why, she fell asleep, sending the broken shattered glass with her to the floor.

Unconsciously, I rose to my feet in a white knee-length dress. I didn’t understand the people around me, they called themselves doctors and called me a patient. Why did they ignore my name? It is like they were ignoring my presence. I kept roaming around, if anyone noticed, they’d send me back, neglecting my screaming and objection.

”Hey! Come here! Don’t go through that door!” Two men started racing towards me. The first thing my eyes met was the black door that lay ahead of me. My legs worked their way through, and my hands shoved anything coming towards them. I opened the door, a staircase led the way to a huge uncovered window. My mind played games for a second, i first saw a small cafe behind the window, then i saw a lit street. There was no time to think, i had to jump.

”Wait! We’re on the 9th floor! What are you doing?!” My legs jumped and soon the wind rushed through my face.

”Such a weird room,” I thought. My eyes blinked for 3 second, sending me black images of emptiness. I found myself on the floor of  along, narrow reception of a house. It seemed going on and on, my eyes couldn’t get the last bit of it. I walked my way there when all of a sudden i heard screeches of pain and hurt. Voices were playing in my head. A man lay on the floor digging his fingernails deep in his flesh, little girls stood in the corner playing with fire, until their bodies were a whole ball of light. As every images passes by, i feel the pain myself, collapsing in a ball, screeching and screaming it all out, with shivers going through my whole body.

Then, an image of a mouth appears in my head and stays.

”Where am i ?” I push myself to say. These lips move, and what comes out wasn’t something i could swallow in.

”Welcome to the doors of hell.”

It was too late…

Anna pushed the door open when figures of grey shadows appeared on the wall. The house looked as if it was deserted for years. Anna’s nose wrinkled up at the strange smell, it was awful! The house smelled like rotten dead bodies laying in every room.

”Oh god! Could this get any worse?!” Anna screamed at the top of her lungs. She wandered around the house, the wooden floor under her feet creaked as she was walking. The first room she entered was wide, spiders roamed the room, blood was splattered all over, and the furniture was covered with a thick layer of dirt. Anna felt like she was counting her last seconds on this planet. The wind almost stood still, even the sun hardly made its way through. Anna walked towards the staircase which was long and narrow that she could barely walk. Silence now sounded louder than ever. She could hear whispers through the air, like ghosts were her friends. then, something caught her eyes, an old lady was staring through the key hole of a door, with only her wrinkled, old eye showing as she blinked. Anna startled to the door of the house to get out, when she was almost there, it shut, everything went black, and it was too late…