Life is such a metaphor, it disparagingly walks next to you and when you hear the sound of it, it resonates, briskly colliding with the perforated matter emanating from the desire of being heard and seen and felt.
It is unfair, every bit of it is ghastly dangerous and peculiar with a tinge of perfect poison, ready to kill your hope and happiness in the wake of it.
She knew life had been ripening her existence ever since she turned 12, yes that was her birthday. She was like a prolonged autumn, shedding her being very slowly and uncertainly so much that it had become a routine now. She still has nightmares from the day they stripped and shot her mother, she remembers the sound of her mother’s screams and how she blinked her eyes 3 times to see everything that was fading away. After all these years, she still remembers how her mother had an awful birthmark on her thigh, she remembers how they touched her mother’s birthmark. It didn’t feel good. They weren’t good people.
That fall saw her world falling apart into pieces that couldn’t be placed together if she were to play jigsaw with them, too bad that she never played after that fall again. That fall, she suddenly grew up.
17 years later, it was her birthday again. Who would have guessed that the girl who never had a guardian would grow up to be a youth motivator and optimist, and an extravagant and successful one?
If you think about it, not growing up with photo albums with all those crooked memories and dramas, not having someone to hook you on when you throw tantrums as a teenager, not having siblings and family and mother can shape you into demented pavements. It can make you look like sour walls and chimney smoke.
Because orphanages do not smell like home after all.
But life as you know it is loaded gun, you just have to know where and when to fire. She is on the way to the University now, they’re honoring her with the most prestigious award today. The award is named after her mother. Yes, she bought justice to her mother’s grave last summer and even though her childhood wouldn’t come back again and she wouldn’t have a chance to grow back up again, she found her solace in the goodwill and high hopes. She can feel her mother smile and that thought drives her to fill colors to the broken canvases of other’s life.
She is on the giant gates of the University now and it is her birthday again…she shudders and walks in.
This was my first sunday fiction. I’d love to know how you liked it. Thanks. 🙂
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