The moonlight shown down the glassplanes onto my bedroom floor, as if pouring down silver streaks of its soft delicate glow. My curtains rustled a gentle breeze, which carried the faint smell of the jasmine enclosed into a book. The breeze opened the book, thus making the jasmine fly towards the cup of water at my bedside. Turning the water into a verlvety black colour, that releases a mystical glow under the glow of the moonlight.
Down at the dining table of the estate, I ate there quietly, preoccupying my mind with the words of the mysterious figure from my memories, a person whose face remained unknown and blurred to indistinction. They spoke of the Ebony Flower and its potential ability to remember forgotten memories form deep within the dormant soul within one's heart. This knowledge gave me hope, a hope so fragile and bleak that even I don't know how it seeped into my heart. A hope for me not to forget.
After dinner, I said my gratitude and went up to my room, there I found that the cup of water that I left at my bedside had a mystical velvet black glow. I stepped closer till I saw that it was the Ebony Flower that was making it glow like that. There I stare. I stared at the cup of black substance, and swirled it like it mattered. I do not understand why, but at the back of my head it was telling me to swirl it, and to drink it.
I lifted the cup towards my lips, chugging at it like a drop shouldn't be wasted. The black substance tasted cool, fresh and tasteless like it was still water. That cool sensation then spread throughout my entire body. As if being pricked by many thorns, I lay onto the bed and curled up to ease my pain. Yet nothing worked, as I slowly feel my consciousness fading, I passed out. I couldn't tell how long I've been unconscious, has it been minutes? Hours? Days? Time itself seemed to unravel, making it lose all meaning within this dark velvet embrace into the oblivion.
As I opened my eyes, the feeling of living once more crawled into my very mind. The first sensation I felt was the smell of lavender, a sweet and calming scent filled the air. There I saw myself beside a mirror, I saw me, but not me? It was a tiny figure of a baby. 'The baby was me', is what I thought, as whenever I move the baby reflected in the mirror moves too. I turned to the voices that were speaking to me, their voices seeming so... familiar.
"Jasmine~ Come here baby~", the woman said in a voice so tender and soft to the ears.
"Jasmine~ Come here to dada~" echoed the man in unison. His voice as equally tender and loving as the woman beside him.
'Jasmine, is that my name?', is what I asked myself, yet the more I hear it the more it felt right. It was as if I remembered a forgotten piece of my identity in this very moment. I stumbled forward towards the two people, my legs barely able to carry my very weight. Yet I continued to stumble, as if yearning for their embrace. Finally, I reached them, their arms enveloped me with a peaceful sanctuary from the world.
"You did it!", praised the man as he lifted me up into the air. I giggled at this motion. As a response, the man said, "You are our little gift from the heavens, a gift from God".
"Your father is right, baby always remember, you are our little gift from God.", the woman replied as she ruffles my hair using her soft hands.
It was a perfect moment filled with unblemished happiness and unconditional love. Yet subtle shifts occurred one by one. Making the light that felt like heaven began to dim. It was not noticeable at first, but as more and more time pass it started to appear. Cracks began to appear. Their voices, which had been once so soft and melodious, became harsh, rough, and unpleasant to hear. It was as if the notes form a once-perfect symphony, is being twisted to a terrible melody.
The day they left, was the day I hide. My parents whom were so loving and kind, spoke in harsh and tense voices. Their voices which spoke soft whispers, spoke words that cuts the air creating a tense atmosphere. They were both angry, afraid, and unstable. The woman's face which was usually gentle was filled with pain and anguish. The man's jaw clenched, and a vein was seen throbbing out of his temple.
Then, suddenly, the man made a violent movement. His arm swept out, not towards the woman, but towards the delicate floral vase on the nearby table. It fell and shattered across the floor. The sound was deafening, that it made me flinch and hide more into the shadows of my very room.
As the woman cried and cried, the man turned and left. The very scene made my nostrils sting, a physical manifestation of sadness adn agony seaping deep within me. The man didn't look back, nor did he spare me nor my mother a second glance. The door slammed shut, leaving behind a subtle silence amongst the tears from the woman. As I try to go forward towards her, to ease her pain, she slapped me way and grabbing my neck as to choke me to death.
"It's all because of you! It all because you existed!" cried out the woman.
Her rage flared as tears swept pass her face. Soon she stopped, I was barely alive, barely breathing. The woman left, probably to chase that man. Days passed, and there I was saved. I was taken in by my maternal grandmother from the man who is called my father. My real father. Not the man I lived with that I thought was my father.
Though he was never around, my grandmother was. Her presence alone is a stark contrast to the emotional turmoin that had just permiated into my body and soul. She was gente and comforting. She didn't speak to me immediately. She didn't fill the void with empty words from nothing. Instead, she simple sat beside me, as I curl into a being to lessen my presence. That moment continued on till I spoke up first.
"Why do they not love me?", I asked amidst the tears flaring out my eyelids.
"It is not that they don't love you. It is just that the adult world is a very complicated place" replied grandmother. "A place where you shouldn't worry much."
I cuddled her and cried my heart out, despite not understanding what she said, I understood her trying to comfort me. I thought that with her and father around, It would be easier. It would make me a future where it wasn't entirely consumed by despair. Despite father not being around much, grandmother was always there for me, from my very first scraped knee to my senior high school. Years passed like a glass full of water, being slowly, emptied drop by drop. Then at my graduation from Junior High School, I asked once more.
"Grandma, why did my parents leave me? Do they no longer love me?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. As if trying to recall what she said to me long long ago.
Grandmother passed what she was doing and gently stoked my hair. It was a comforting rhythm that always calmed me. She replied, "Whether they love you or not, I still love youm my dear. As well as your dad, we still love you dearly"
She then paused then continued, "You should focus on the present, as the past cannot be changed, especially if we talk about the hearts of humans. They hold so many uncertainties that one cannot comprehend."
Her words were simple yet profound. There was no longer anger in my heart nor sadness, but rather it was filled with understanding and love. As I replied back to her, "I understand, grandmother."
[To be continued]