I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night

Chapter 1

Again it was raining outside. What a miserable, cold and wet night! I was in a bad mood, I could not write. And then along came this Storm. It stole my stories from me, took over what was meant to be. But I dislike wasting words when they wanted to flow. So I wrote them all down, just to see where it goes. Like I said, it was a not very nice night out there, so who could blame the type of words that flow? -Jolly

HBHBHB

I remembered a storm-tossed night. It was dark and scary. I felt like I was drowning. The waves were a multitude of arms striving to pull me under. I fought and I fought and I fought, but it was hopeless. A mere mortal could not dream of winning this battle against the wrath of nature. I did not know why I was there. I did not know how I got there. But I knew it was real. It was not a dream. The memories of that night still gave me nightmares. And those dreams did not fade with the passage of time.

Perhaps it was because of what lies beyond. I could not breach that wall. Or was it because I dared not venture beyond that? Was I a coward? What was it I feared on the other side?

No. I never believed myself a coward. Who would blame a man for wanting to remember his past for himself? My parents had been great. They were most supportive at a time when I was so vulnerable, even though I remembered them not. They were patient, they were kind, even when I got frustrated and lost my temper.

They showed me my childhood photographs, and told me stories of my past. They all felt so alien. I supposed that was only natural. It was their memories of me, seen through their eyes, felt through their hearts, filled with the bias so natural for any parents towards their child. But at least I knew without doubt that they loved me. And now, after all these years, I knew I loved them too.

Perhaps the doctors were right. That the head injury I sustained that night had caused the memory loss. They had said that the damage was almost definitely permanent. I would never remember. But my subconscious desire to remember would always take me back to that dark night in my dreams.

But they were wrong in that those dreams would fade with time. It's been six years, and the memories were still as vivid. I guessed my parents were right on about my stubborn nature. I wanted to remember, more so now than ever before.

Because now I am alone.

I had friends aplenty. But that was different from having a family.

Bending down, I placed the flowers on the headstones of my parents' graves. Those were mom's favorite. I bought a bunch for her every mother's day, while dad never failed to order a bouquet for her every birthday. I watched the bright yellow petals flutter in the morning breeze. The memorial service was over. Everyone else had left.

Except me.

I stood before my parents' graves and wished I had gone with them. Then I would not be alone now.

They were killed in a freak boating accident. I smiled a sad smile. They loved their adventures. How many kids could boast of parents who would join them on dare-devil stunts like sky-diving? During my years at college, I spent one of my school vacations each year on an adventure trip with them. We went rock climbing in the Grand Canyon in the United States. We went on a Safari trip into the heart of Africa. We went trekking into the mountains of South America and visited the ruins of Machu Picchu. On our last trip together after my graduation, my girlfriend came along with us. We went cross country skiing across the Swiss Alps.

That was how remarkable they were. And sailing the high seas was their favorite past time. They would spend weeks in their private yatch in the ocean defying the forces of nature. Apparently, that was how I got injured. And that was how they died, trapped in a watery grave in the storm-tossed seas. But I would not remember them that way. They lived life to the fullest. They died doing what they loved most. I should be happy for them. I would be happy for them. They would have no regrets. So I would have none too. In honor of their memory.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I knew that was my wife. I proposed soon after that cross country skiing trip. We got married and finished our honeymoon before I started my first full-time job. I was wrong after all. I still had a family.

I turned and looked into her soft brown eyes. It was as always full of the love she had for me. Her slender fingers reached for my face, and gently wiped away my tears.

I was not even aware there were tears. When did I start crying?

I reached for her hand, now wet with my tears, kissed those loving fingers, and held them to my heart. I was so glad I found her, and was indeed blessed that she loved me in return.

We have to go, she said in her soft gentle voice.

I nodded.

Turning, I took another look at the headstones. It would be hard, going on without them.

But go on I would, and I would live life to the fullest too. In memory of them.

HBHBHB

He remembered that storm-tossed night. How could he forget? That was the night his brother died.

No, he amended. That was the night he let his brother die.

It was cold. It was wet. And it was windy. He could still remember how the debris and dust filled wind scrapped against his face like hard bristles. He could still hear the howling winds in his eardrums. He could not hold on. And he had watched helplessly as his brother fell further and further away from him in slow motion, until he was swallowed up by the hungry roiling waves.

That happened this day six long years ago. But the memory was still so vivid it was like it happened just yesterday.

He knelt before the cold hard marble gravestone, his fingers slowly and lovingly tracing the letters that spelt his brother's name. His brother had just turned eighteen when he died. Such a short time to enjoy his transition to legal adulthood! And his mind wondered on its own back to that fateful night. He could still feel his brother's hand gripping his. He could remember terror and desperation in those eyes as the hold began to slip, bit by bit. He called out for him to hold on. He would think of something. He willed his brother to believe in him even as he knew in his heart, he had nothing. He could not protect his brother this time. They were alone out there on the cliff's edge that stormy night.

No, there was a third person who was unconscious at that time. That man was knocked out during the scuffle when he tried to kill them both.

The painful total recall continued its ruthless journey through his mind. The next few seconds flashed by in great detail. That short instant in time had felt like an hour to him. For he had started to slip off the cliff as well, dragged by his brother's weight. He remembered the horror he felt at that moment. The little bush that he was holding on to started to give. And his brother had realized that whatever he was holding on to could not support both their weight. There was nothing more terrifying to him than when his brother gave him that little smile of love and resignation. And his brother had let go, even as he had tightened his grip. It did not take long for earth's cruel gravity to pull his brother from his slippery hands down into the dark churning waters below. He saw his brother mouth the words, 'live, for me…' Then his brother was gone, taken by the sea.

And he had watched and he watched and he watched. But his brother never surfaced.

Then he felt the little bush gave, and he too started the downward descend into darkness. He did not want to let his brother down by dying, but all his reserves of energy had been depleted in the bid to hold on to his brother just moments before. He closed his eyes and prepared himself to hit the waters.

'Ah brother, we'll still be together, in death as in life…'

He jerked to a stop. Someone had caught hold of him by his legs and was even then pulling him from death's edge. When he was a safe distance away from the edge of the cliff, he turned to face his rescuer. He had no idea what to feel. Grateful for the rescue? Or anger for taking him away from his brother?

Then he saw who saved him. Fury overwhelmed him. It was the man who had tried to kill them both. But why? Why did the killer want to save him?

That man laughed hysterically, his demented laughter carried over the howling winds and the lashing rain.

"I wanted to kill you two for causing the death of my baby brother… I thought I failed… you two managed to knock me out…" That man had screamed that information at him.

"What happened after that?" That man asked mockingly of him. "Let me guess, your brother must have slipped…"

That man laughed again. He laughed so hard he was rolling on the ground, his hands held protectively around his belly.

"God is fair after all… and I saved you. I SAVED you! This is so much better. Now you can spend the rest of your days without your brother, just like I have to..."

More demented laughter.

All these while he could only listen to that man bragged and raged. He was too exhausted to move.

That man struggled onto his feet, failed and fell back onto his knees. And then he started to crawl away.

The wind carried back that man's last words of farewell: "God is fair…"

All around him, the storm raged on.

It was police officer Con Riley who found him at the cliffs many hours later. The storm had died down and it was almost dawn. He was sent to Bayport hospital via a helicopter. He was severely hypothermic, and developed a serious case of pneumonia.

When he finally came to three days later, his parents told him his brother was dead. He could not meet their eyes, his guilt and his shame rest heavy on his scarred soul. He failed to protect his brother. The coast guard had searched and searched, but the body was never found. That was not surprising; for the sea was known to keep what it took.

Another three days later, he had stood with his parents at the memorial service for his brother. And he grieved. But he would live on, for his brother.

And he did.