I was in a big happy family once. I had Two brothers, two
sisters, two parents that loved me. We lived in a big manor. It was as white
and as innocent as I was. I was a curious boy and when I went exploring, I came
across a painting in our attic. It was faded brown and showed a family standing
outside the manor. Two wizened old parent and a very young girl with ragged
hair, Except this family looked angry and evil. They gave me a sinister smile.
It was as if I was hypnotized. I touched the painting.
I was sucked in.
My time in that painting was terrible. It was a universe
full of hatred. The family in the painting became my own. I was now the son of
a wizened old man with decaying teeth and a woman with her hair in a tight bun,
with a distant look, a crazed look. The girl became my sister. She was a
terrible demon. Her hair was ragged and her fingernails were bloody.My sister (I call her
that for want of a better way to describe her) was a she- devil. The horrors I
faced at her hands were endless. She strangled me and poked at me with burning
pokers. She would pinch and prod and it made me crazy. SHE made me crazy. The
old man was no better. He beat me with
the sticks and belts and anything else he could find. Every time I tried to
kill myself to escape. In the painting I
soon found out that if you die, you return. You crawl out of the dirt and face
more tortures. if you don’t crawl out, you are dug out. It never ends.
After what seemed like months of torture, I
cracked one day. In a crazy rage I hunted down my sister and began to choke her
with the old man’s belt. She was gasping for air but I was determined to kill
her. To make her hurt. I was almost going to succeed in killing her
when in a burst of energy she pulled out of my grasp and jumped out of a nearby
window. I was sure she would resurrect, I waited. But the old man told me she
had another place to go. She would crawl out elsewhere. But I would remain
here.
Flash forward ten
years. The old man continued to torture me after my sister left. But I killed
him. The woman was killed much before by the old man. The dusty house and barn
belong to me now. I get into the old car and zoom off. I drive for a long time
and I reach my destination: a cold town.
It is snowing in this town. But I’m protected by a fur coat. I’m heading
towards the beach. The beach is where I shall dig.
I arrive at my
destination and I realize I have to wait until sunset. But this beach is a
protected area and the guards will force
me to leave.
Suddenly I am someone
else. There is a greasy haired boy on the beach, dressed in all back, sitting
on the sand next to me. I remember being him but I realize I am not him. I’m
myself again. A pretty, petite girl. I try to give the boy as much time. I tell
him to continue his hunt, I will distract the guards.
I run to the guards
and pretend I’m a tourist. I ask them how to reach a far off place so that they
take some time in telling me. Suddenly, there is a siren. The guards tell me
that they will take me where I wish to go. It is not safe for a young girl to
be alone, they said. Cruel and dangerous things have been happening. I agree to
go with them, if only to led them away from the greasy haired boy.
In the open aired
jeep, we travel. Two guards in front, one guard at the back with me. It is
suddenly very cold. The friendly guard, fair of face and with light, soulful
eyes, looks down at me. He gives me a caring look and gently sits closer to me
to keep me warm. For the first time since I entered the painting, I feel safe.
I know I will be taken care of.
Suddenly, we are
being chased. Patches of darkness and shadows of cloaks overwhelm us. But I am
safe now, in the Jeep.
Nutella cake
