My Life In Black and White
Prologue:
Two Deaths, One Grave
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The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
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We weren't rich, and forever toiled the land in hope of growing enough vegetables to sustain us, but we were content, happy even.
Mother, my loving mother. She was always so cheerful…so, comforting. And yet, my most vivid memory of her was that of her graceful body lying limp on the floor, mangled beyond total recognition. Her beautiful lush brown hair matted with blood, her blood, obscured her gentle face as though it were a majestic red curtain, a curtain that would never rise again for the long awaited encore.
And there he stood.
A vulture, suspended awkwardly over her body, waiting ever so quietly for her death. On the verge of death, he brashly pressed his lips against hers and stole her last breath.
"Till death do us part."
His raspy voice disgusted me; he turned and walked towards me, slowly, savoring the moment of my impending death. His arms spread out in a wide embrace, oh the irony of it all. His cruel demented smile plastered across his face.
"Monster, you were born to die."
Sprawled awkwardly across the blood stained timber. My long black hair fell over my eyes. How pitiable I must've looked. With great difficulty I used me ruined arms to push myself into an awkward sitting position, and indignantly raised my head, only to be met with his piercing glare. All I could see was my pathetic condition reflected in those hard black eyes, those eyes that held no affliction or compassion.
I hated him.
Seething with unadulterated loathing, forcing through clenched teeth the very word that I held with immense resentment, almost as if acknowledging him.
"Father"
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It'd been four days since, four grueling days. My limbs and muscles would surely scream out in agony if they could but speak.
I no longer had the strength to claw my way through the hard snow.
I had reached my limit.
I closed my eyes and lay there, completely still. I huddled in a fetal position as to retain heat, if only to make my death slightly more comfortable than I expected it to be. I could feel my body shutting down; I couldn't even summon the strength to open my eyes, to have one last look at the vast obsidian sky.
I could no longer feel the harsh snow on my delicate skin. But I was glad the numbness took away the pain, finally moments of relief. I knew I was dying, but I didn't care, so long as the pain would go away.
The pain of losing everything.
The pain of losing myself.
My purpose.
I kept telling my self, reassuring that I was ready for what death held in store for me. I was born with nothing, so what was I to lose? Why bother worrying over something as trivial as my mere existence? And yet, there I lay, sheltered in a foul mixture of blood and snow, desperately clinging to my life.
My hideous life.
Hunger, struggle and disappointment are the unalterable laws of life, so they say. What an inefficient and useless statement, the culmination of all three would be much more suited; pain. Pain is the only law of life. A law that I like many must abide by, for as long as we li… exist.
Yes, for as long as I exist, though luckily that won't be very long.
And with that, I fell into deaths welcoming arms.
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Just small fragments of distant memory bored into my mind.
That's all I could remember of my past life.
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