Letter for Samarah
I folded the letter with the greatest precision, making sure all aspects of it would be perfect. On the front were clearly printed words, "TO SAMARAH". I put on my shoes. I put on my best pair of pants. I put on my favorite shirt. The shirt was plain white, and tight to the skin. I remember thinking to myself, "This room is just a mess". I grabbed the guitars scattered on the floor that once created sweet songs that rivaled the birds, and silenced them inside their case. I went around stealing the energy that made the electronics hum and live, unplugging them. All the things that were once in my room now reside in clearly labeled boxes, so anyone could find whatever they were looking for.
The room was completely empty, except for a bed whose sheets are also carefully folded and packed. The room being completely stripped and barren seemed so ironic to me.
I knew no one would be home for some time, nearly seven hours, so no one would care what I do. I started to exit the room when I could hear something vibrating.
I reached and grabbed my cellular phone turning it off with haste, not so much as glancing at it. I knew who it was. I threw the phone onto the bed and walked out of the room.
As I walked outside there was supposedly a flurry of senses that were supposed to come to life in others, but I must have missed it. My nose must have smelt the fire, instead of the flowers. My ears must have heard the screams, instead of the grasshoppers calling to one another. My skin must have felt the chemicals burning through it, instead of the warmth of the sun. My body must have missed the world.
Or maybe I just didn't care to notice, because only one thing grasped my mind in it's vice grip: The contemplation of freedom.
Upward, the clouds seemed to form syllables and vowels that the sky turned into words that pierced the clouds forcing them to cry.
I looked at the sky, and thrust the blade into a cavity in my chest where a heart should be. Dropping to my knees I told the sky not to mourn for me, to stop shedding tears. Instead, wash my own crimson tears into yourself, become full of nourishment. To create life from such a vile substance from the most wicked of men.
I fell to my back, water in my eyes but no tears. The world begins to blur, the clouds begin to disappear. The screams fade, the fire smothers, the acid null. The trees, gone. The earth, gone. The farce tears began to stop as a rainbow appeared as to symbolize the betterment of the world, and to replace what once was. My life, disappears.
