We were locked in a dark and gloomy cellar. No light was allowed to enter, no sound allowed to leave. We thought that this was the end. That the light of day would never come, but it did. It just wasn't in its normal form; it was in the form of our brother.
He was always the goof ball. He could make you so mad one minute yet it would only take a flash of his pearly whites and whatever wrath you once felt would disappear. He was like magic. He was unexplainable, didn't matter how many words you knew. No matter how hard you tried no one word fit him.
As we sat in the glum, he kept stayed in high spirits. He would talk to us when we would say nothing. He would crack jokes even when no one would laugh. His laugh, whenever he giggled it brought a smile to all of our faces. It's been the same ever since he was a tot. The kid in the teen body. Sure he was immature at times but it was only because we never where. If we would just relax and enjoy life the way he did maybe he would have been able to grow more. With our selfishness of never noticing how much he wanted to grow up he would suffer for our mistake.
Food never came but he told us it would, that the water would come as well. We yelled at him, called him stupid because he believed in something we didn't. We hurt him, he never showed it though. That porcelain mask over his face was to perfect. He was the artist in the family always able to create whatever feeling fit the occasion on anything, even himself.
The hunger burned our stomachs as the days passed. Help would come, he told us. I didn't believe him and I'm sure my brothers never did either. It's a shame we didn't hope, it helps those with nothing else survive. Was this why he was always able to survive even the worst situations? Because he knew we were there for him? Look at us, in the same room as him unable to do anything, yet he still believes that we can save him. That there is still hope.
What heroes we are able to protect the world and not our own. What becomes of those who protect others but never themselves? Maybe one day we will know. If we get out of here.
He always sat in the front of our cell looking through the rusted bars to the door on the other end of the hall that we came through to get here. That took us to hell. He would stare at that door even though it was too dark to see anything other than us. That was the torture of it all. Not the starvation, dehydration but the insanity. It was the fact that I could see my brothers suffer. No matter what happened to me I could handle it but seeing the ones you love and always tried to protect slowly fade away as a water painting disappears into a canvas that was what I couldn't handle. The only one I couldn't see was him. His shell always faced us, never turning around. He would just stare at the door and talk. We never saw his face when he talked but his voice filled the small room and forced us to take note of everything he said. His stories, his encouragement, his reassurance.
No matter how hard you listened you could hear nothing other than those around you. At times you would almost hear their heart beats, though that could have been my imagination. The silent breathing, the slight shift to a more comfortable position, you heard it all. Even in a dead sleep no dreams came to me only the sounds of movement and breathing. It would fade into the back ground becoming a white noise but then a sudden burst of movement would bring it back to the surface of your hearing. Each breath was calming, comforting. It told me and them that we were alive. When he would talk it would be a break in the constant sound and we all craved for. His voice, when it came, was something to break the routine. He couldn't talk long, his throat to dry to talk long, but every word kept us strong and kept us from letting go.
As the days became longer he would talk less and less. One day, close to the end I think, he stopped talking. It was horrible. The light of his words where slowly disappearing in the darkness of the room. I looked to him once when I thought I heard him trying to say something and noticed how large his shell was. He was easily the smallest of all of us, his shell included. So why did it now seem so large to my eyes. It reminded me of the story of how the earth came to be. It is said that the earth was brought up on the back of a turtle's shell. Looking at his shell now it would seem like it was made to carry much more than himself, it took me some time to figure out that the one he was keeping alive on his back was us and I would never forget it.
When the end got closer, as the breathing became slower and the movements ceased I heard him speak again. It wasn't much, very simple words that where so strained that it was amazing that anything came out at all. All he said was:
"It will be alright."
We all turned towards him using the last of our energy and we all saw light coming from him. He was turned around smiling proud at us, arms out stretched. This was the first time in days in that we got to see his face, it was almost angelic. His words registered in my head and in my brothers as well. We all smile back and let the warming light of him welcome us in.
So what do you think? Whose prov do you think its in? What brother was being mentioned? Tell me what you think in a review please!