A fancy for the artistic
"Hey" she said, pulling my book away from me, "Do you remember how you died?"
I blinked, tearing myself away from a world of dragon-slaying to focus on the petite girl that sat in front of me. "Yes, but what of your sudden morbid curiosity?" I replied, leaning my arm onto the armrest, supporting my chin.
"Nothing. Just wondering" She mimicked my movement.
I sighed. "I had a grandmother once," I started my story, "dear old woman, if I may say so. However, my grandmother had a genetic brain defect of some kind. Whenever I was around, she would suddenly twitch involuntarily, sending plates or anything within her reach flying in my direction. It would hit me sometimes, drawing blood. But blood, they say, is thicker than water, so I didn't die of blood loss because it flowed slowly. At the same time - as if possessed - her mouth would form the words "if only I didn't have a grandchild like you!!!" as she spat at me - Pitiful, isn't it? And I believed she to be devout, too. I thought her god - whoever he may be, would at least protect her from getting possessed."
I paused, looking down at the young girl, expecting a picture of boredom- but all I saw were two bright, eager eyes.
So I continued, "I asked my mother once, why did poor old grandmama have this horrible disease? And she told me this gently with hardened voice, "it is because you weren't born the way she wanted you to." I didn't know a person's process of birth could induce a disease into people. Perhaps, if I were still alive, I'd liked to ask a gynaecologist about it. But in any case, one day, dear grandmama went into her usual epaleptic fit and threw a kitchen knife at me. And you know, I'm dreadfully bad at dodgeball. The end."
Flopping myself back upright, I made an attempt to retrieve my book but the girl stubbornly held it out of my reach.
"So what happened to her?" she pursued relentlessly.
The situation was just simply out of my grasp (no pun intended) so I had no choice but to answer her question.
"Well," I mused, "as I was lying there on the floor feeling my life drain away drop by drop, I suddenly felt a rush of filial piety. I thought to myself, grandmama has suffered for so many years because of me. And now, finally, if I die, maybe her disease given by my birth would be spirited away by my death. So filled with all the joy, gratitude and guilt I could muster, I used up all of my remaining strength to hug her."
Pausing, I took the time to recollect.
"And then," I continued, suddenly feeling the corners of my lips twitch upwards for unexplainable reasons, "I forgot that dear old grandmama had ostereoporosis and feeble, hollow bones. As I hugged her with overwhelming feeling, dribbling blood all over her pure white nightgown as she screamed me, a demon, there was a loud POP! A CRACK! And she hugged me heavily, slumped like a rag doll.."
A reflective layer filmed over the girl's eyes. Was it admiration? Was it pity for me? Or for my dear grandmama? I didn't ask.
"So," she interrogated me again, "If your grandmother died the same time as you, shouldn't she be down here with us?"
In response, I nodded but this made her pose another question in her youthful curiosity.
"Where is she ? Which apartment in Hell does she stay in?"
Youth, so nostalgic. Bending over, I couldn't help but pat her head, running my gloved fingers through her raven dark hair.
"Why, you've already met her. In fact! You're sitting on her, right.this.moment."
Slowly, almost like in a movie running in exaggerated slow motion, the girl looked down and stared at the crimson floor rug with wide eyes.
~Copyright~
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
HAPPY GRANDPARENT'S DAY ;)
I blinked, tearing myself away from a world of dragon-slaying to focus on the petite girl that sat in front of me. "Yes, but what of your sudden morbid curiosity?" I replied, leaning my arm onto the armrest, supporting my chin.
"Nothing. Just wondering" She mimicked my movement.
I sighed. "I had a grandmother once," I started my story, "dear old woman, if I may say so. However, my grandmother had a genetic brain defect of some kind. Whenever I was around, she would suddenly twitch involuntarily, sending plates or anything within her reach flying in my direction. It would hit me sometimes, drawing blood. But blood, they say, is thicker than water, so I didn't die of blood loss because it flowed slowly. At the same time - as if possessed - her mouth would form the words "if only I didn't have a grandchild like you!!!" as she spat at me - Pitiful, isn't it? And I believed she to be devout, too. I thought her god - whoever he may be, would at least protect her from getting possessed."
I paused, looking down at the young girl, expecting a picture of boredom- but all I saw were two bright, eager eyes.
So I continued, "I asked my mother once, why did poor old grandmama have this horrible disease? And she told me this gently with hardened voice, "it is because you weren't born the way she wanted you to." I didn't know a person's process of birth could induce a disease into people. Perhaps, if I were still alive, I'd liked to ask a gynaecologist about it. But in any case, one day, dear grandmama went into her usual epaleptic fit and threw a kitchen knife at me. And you know, I'm dreadfully bad at dodgeball. The end."
Flopping myself back upright, I made an attempt to retrieve my book but the girl stubbornly held it out of my reach.
"So what happened to her?" she pursued relentlessly.
The situation was just simply out of my grasp (no pun intended) so I had no choice but to answer her question.
"Well," I mused, "as I was lying there on the floor feeling my life drain away drop by drop, I suddenly felt a rush of filial piety. I thought to myself, grandmama has suffered for so many years because of me. And now, finally, if I die, maybe her disease given by my birth would be spirited away by my death. So filled with all the joy, gratitude and guilt I could muster, I used up all of my remaining strength to hug her."
Pausing, I took the time to recollect.
"And then," I continued, suddenly feeling the corners of my lips twitch upwards for unexplainable reasons, "I forgot that dear old grandmama had ostereoporosis and feeble, hollow bones. As I hugged her with overwhelming feeling, dribbling blood all over her pure white nightgown as she screamed me, a demon, there was a loud POP! A CRACK! And she hugged me heavily, slumped like a rag doll.."
A reflective layer filmed over the girl's eyes. Was it admiration? Was it pity for me? Or for my dear grandmama? I didn't ask.
"So," she interrogated me again, "If your grandmother died the same time as you, shouldn't she be down here with us?"
In response, I nodded but this made her pose another question in her youthful curiosity.
"Where is she ? Which apartment in Hell does she stay in?"
Youth, so nostalgic. Bending over, I couldn't help but pat her head, running my gloved fingers through her raven dark hair.
"Why, you've already met her. In fact! You're sitting on her, right.this.moment."
Slowly, almost like in a movie running in exaggerated slow motion, the girl looked down and stared at the crimson floor rug with wide eyes.
~Copyright~
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
HAPPY GRANDPARENT'S DAY ;)
