Short002

Cure

why do you cry out over your wound, your pain that has no cure? Because of your great guilt and many sins I have done these things to you. Jeremiah 30

I always knew it would come to this. The 36 bus had become home. For approximately 16 hours I had been on this grubby demonical ride of pleasure. Watching the repulsive world glide past me and the isolated strangers each telling their own story, from a simple gesture to the corroding smell of their worn out feet. The constant bumping and unsettling stares had now become normal. My eyes began to drift off into eternal sleep. I lay my wounded head gently on the dirty glass which shook viciously forcing me out of my deadly trance. A stabbing ache terrorised my neck as beautiful petite blood drops slowly pounded down creating a whirl wind of colour on my skin. Tears of regret flooded my thoughts as his scowling voice echoed in my mind constantly. His Blue eyes corrupted my thoughts, burning through my scalp.

Faster, FASTER I screamed painfully begging the driver to take me away from this deranged hallucination. A tall man wearing a poorly made jumper began to walk over, I watched as he struggled to balance on the jolting bus. His filthy hand grasped my arm. Torturing Distress inflicted my soul as I felt his troubled sadness. His dark aged eyes looked into mine in despair. I followed his finger as he began to point to the sky. ‘The Lord is kind.” His unwashed hands entwined with mine. I felt all my sorrows wash away as a blinding light enhanced the bus. His once tired wrinkled face now turned beautiful and angelic. Our hands soared like a dove as His purity painted my vision with hope. “He has the cure, all we have to do is pray.” His cold eyes began to turn a peaceful green. His eyelashes like wings clasped together, his thoughfull smile left me to feel warm inside. For that moment I began to forget everything that had happened, the guilt and the pain all flown away.

My Father had always been religious. When I was a child he used to make me and my brothers read an extract from the Bible every night. I never believed in God. I had lived an unfortunate life. I lost my mother at the age of 6. My father Left home when I was 12, leaving me to look after my younger Brothers. God had never helped me then. So why would he now? I had lost everything, My Family, My Friends. Why would he help me now? “It wasn’t your Fault,” he said gently. How…how do you… His crystal gaze sent me into a hazy trance. He smiled knowingly. His body began to fade as the sun pounded down through the tainted windows. Scorching my weeping eyes, my tears blurred out the refreshing scene. Please stop me, I have sinned, stop this evil inside me, and please help me I pleaded. Crawling on the repulsive floor I began to loose my worthless dignity the impure dirt and flesh sinking into my skin. The heavens faded into darkness, leading me back to pangs of conscience.

”Are you ok Miss?”

Unknown figures glanced at me in disgust. My eyelids cracked open. I tried to grab hold of a man, swarming my aching arms towards his welcoming body. The flock of figures scuttled abruptly. Streams of gore drizzled effortlessly down my shattered torso. My forgiving stare craved utility as I slowly died. I saw my life flash in fragments. I saw my mother on her death bed. She smiled broadly, curling my hair with her delicate fingers. Her gentle whisper pricked my blossoming heart. 

“Goodbye.”

Her humble voice was a humming lily taking its last breath. I saw my Father gripping my beloved Brother. Screaming fiercely, squeezing out his happiness. I saw my Pale Brother begging for change on the dull streets, selling his soul for a hot meal. I saw myself running down the sinister school halls. The children’s violent howls wounded my insides. 

“Drop dead, Drop dead”

echoed in my ears as the vigorous kicks forced me to misery. 

Then I saw it, the thing that had been haunting my soul…

He clutched onto my shirt, ripping it off my frail body. I could still feel the butterflies in my stomach as his forceful hands knocked me to the ground. I slowly reached in my back pocket. I ran my fingers on the soothing blade giving me comfort. His vulgar fingers burned into my skin. I took a deep breath. I pulled out the knife. Driving it into his neck. His worthless body flopped to the ground; blood spurted out onto my shaken bare skin. I watched him fall to his death. The darkness began to drown me as my worthless bag of bones became colourless.

                                          * * * *

A remarkable tree stands before me, its generous branches spreading proudly shining out its beauty. Emerald leaves swayed passionately onto the pavement. A familiar face appeared from behind the tree. It was the man from the Bus. He skipped grandly, greeting me with his warm gesture. “I knew you would come!”

He shouted. I stared blankly in a confused daze. 

Where am I? ”This is the Utopia of all Utopia’s…I have something for you.”

I followed him as he walked over to the tree. We crouched under the refreshing evergreen. He held out his kind hands, as I lay my blooded ones on his. I began to feel a strange exhilaration flow around me. All the agony in my once worthless soul began to disappear. This immortal feeling took over me leaving a light bliss swimming into my veins. 

“Now close your eyes”

He said lightly. My eyelashes brush together. A cool wind kissing my cheeks gradually opening my eyes. There stood an extravagant young women. Her Wavy sun kissed hair brushing my nose. My eyes stuck on her, admiring her beauty. It was My Mother. She pursed her lips against my forehead, a peaceful breeze circulated me. I have found the cure.