One dark September

One dark September evening I was walking home from school. The cold frost bitten wind ran through my body, as if I was not there.

I was walking faster down my own street, eager to reach the bottle green door shrouded in roses climbing helplessly in vain.

I skipped up the stone steps of number 3 Sunderland court. I felt a sudden rush of cold as I went in and form that day on, my existence would never be the same again.

I was standing in the quiet hallway felt dim somehow, I could not describe it, but it was.... It was like a feeling of neglect.

I hung my coat on the hook and slowly glided into the living room.

My brother Glenn was sitting as usual, too close to the television, I told him that it was bad for his eyes but he did not acknowledge me.

Mum was in the kitchen, with her back turned away from me, the pots were boiling and the steam rising. She always stopped what she was doing, gave me a hug, and asks me how my day went... but not today, she was quiet and I could feel her sadness pervading the room, the heat was unbearable and the kettle was whistling, its high pitched noise reverberating around the walls. There was a feeling of sorrow that only I could feel.

"What's wrong mum?, I'm home."

The telephone rang;  I took a backward glance and returned to face my mum who had the telephone in her hand.

She was so busy talking she did not hear me, so I quietly left the room, and sat down in the cosy armchair by the welcoming fire. I could not feel the warmth, as the flames that leapt and danced up the chimney.  Glen was still rooted to  the television, he loved the Simpson’s and I turned the volume down to get his attention, he did not even notice.

He got up and ran upstairs without even a reply! How odd usually he moaned or groaned and said,

"Sisters are silly" Nothing!

The door opened and there was Dad, home from work, his big frame filled the doorway, so tall and proud in his smart suit, normally full of life, deep voice booming out. Today quiet and reserved, his deep brown eyes looking wild sucking you in to the very depths of his soul only matched by his pink cheeks, which would make a wild rose blush with envy.

He crossed the room, looking tired shoulders hunched and plodded in to his study, closing the door behind him. There was an awkward silence, then a call from mum,

"Tea is on the table."

My older sister Isabelle entered the room elegantly gliding across the carpeted floor, her fiery tiger-eyes prowling the room suspiciously, chestnut brown hair neatly tied in to a French plait that draped over one shoulder.

When she spoke, it was like twinkling stars at twilight. I would sometimes find myself talking to her just so I could hear her dulcet tones dancing along like a graceful butterfly.

As she sat in the chair next to me, my brother Glenn on my far left my mum opposite me, my dad opposite my sister leaving two chairs at each end for guests and my dog Flame who sat opposite Glenn. The table was laden with healthy food to replenish our empty bodies, Mother always started the conversation before we ate, and she always did. She turned to my dad, who had just finished reading the paper,

"How was your day at work dear?"

"Actually, it was rather strange, my desk was moved to the spare room for this new man who gets claustrophobic in small places and because mine was the biggest room they moved me. They did not even bother to upload my computer! It took me half the wretched morning downloading from my back up disk, but it was a quiet and pleasant day."

Then my mother asked Glen how pre-school was, he was only five.

"My friend Matthew was ill today so I was on my own all day until you came and got me."

Mum turned to my sister Isabelle,

"How was college?"

Her eyes glinted at the questions if almost in silent reply.

"Boring! as usual. I have no friends and had a lecture from Mr Low on archaeology in Peru; I don't even live in Peru!"

"Jasmine."

"Yes mum." I answered finally.

“How was your day at school?"

"Oh fine I got some English homework I must finish for Friday but that’s all.

My friend wasn't in any of my classes today so I had no one to talk to either; I'll call her later to see if she is ok."

We were all about to start our meal, when my Dad told us all to be very quiet. I was about to ask why when a key turned in the lock  of our front door, and the creak of the old door hinges groaning under it's own weight suggested to me that this wasn’t a very sensible question after all.

Now I could hear them, voices in the corridor when there should be silence. They were not in whisper for us to hear them all clearer. I quietly thought weird burglars. My Dad bravely killed the kitchen lights and peered through the door that was slightly ajar. Dad was about to reach for something hard to hit them with, when two figures half hidden in shadow came in and one turned on the lamp on the side table. The thumping in my chest was so loud, I though everyone could hear it, putting my hand over my pounding heart to stifle my growing fear. As I looked around my sister was in the arms of my mother, both petrified, Glenn was under the table crying softly with flame.

I looked to the living room to see who it was, to a great surprise it was my auntie Marcia and Uncle Bill. There were also a group of men. I had never seen before. All in the same blue overalls, carrying boxes and rubbish bags and started to fill them with objects from our living room.

I saw my Auntie climb the stairs slowly with tears streaming from her wise green eyes and down her kind etched face. I cannot stand people that cry especially my family so | followed her quietly upstairs to see what was wrong and why men were clearing our stuff below us.

As I climbed the stairs on the worn blue carpet, to the awaiting landing, I looked over the banister watching my dad. He stood in full view of the men clearing our house out, but they just ignored him, as if he did not exist.

I traced my thoughts back to Auntie Marcia and rushed to mine and my sister's room She was sitting on my bed and looking at some recent photos of us all together last Christmas, this seemed to make her crying worse. Bill came in with Flame a bouncy playful dog, who obediently stood by Uncle's heel with his lead fastened to his collar.

My Uncle was a very polite man, and patient, happily married to Marcia for fifty years proved this. He sat next to Marcia and hugged her. Both now stared at the photos intently.

I felt awkward standing there listening to their conversation.

"We had best get going we don't want to be late."

“Yes lets go." she sighed.

I followed behind them I wanted to know what was going on. Dad Mum Glenn and Isabelle followed us out the door and down the road to the local church, where loads of people had already gathered. It was a funeral all dressed in black paying their final respects to the dead. Whoever they were, they had many friends. It looked like the whole village had come.

"Dad, Mum, there’s my friend Jennifer, she’s over there and  ... She’s crying."

I could not go over to ask what was wrong, the vicar came out and I thought that it would be rather rude to upset the ceremony. I decided to wait until the end.

The vicar was a chubby cheerful man with a powerful smile. His face was battered and old like the graves stones around him but not as grim.

"We are gathered here this afternoon, to say goodbye to a wonderful group of people who some of us knew as family, friends, neighbours or just customers that you felt you knew all your lives. We are a small community and it is sad to see it grow smaller.

My heart goes out to the closest of this family, who feel this loss intolerable.

Their cause of death seems unfair. A fatal car crash, killing them all is upsetting, but I am a creation of God and cannot blame the other car that crashed in to them on the 5thy of this month. The children, so young .their lives snatched from them by a drink driver. With a heavy heart, we say farewell to Mr Drake Rhymes, Mrs Joanne Rhymes, Miss Isabelle Rhymes, Miss Jasmine, Rhymes and master Glenn Rhymes. A much loved and respected family here, may you rest in peace.

"What! I am dead! It can't be!"

“Not you, we, all of us!"

The crowed started to disperse. My family remained to stare at our graves in disbelief...

We all went back to our half-empty house not knowing what to do, except Glenn who had mastered the art of walking through walls.

"Cool! You have to try this Izzy."

Isabelle ran to the hall way mirror and screamed, a scream that only the gifted could hear,

“My reflection isn’t there."

My sister is very vain and to think that she could never see her face again was worse than spots.

Mum and Dad were sitting on the sofa, coming to terms with the news of well, 'Nothing!'

.............................................................

Next morning, they all left the house and vanished off the face of the earth.

I do not know if they were doomed to walk the earth for eternity, or if there is a heaven somewhere. Are they there now? Is heaven what we expect it to be?

Maybe, they reincarnated to live their lives again.

I suppose it is your choice whatever happens in your life.

No one knows who is in control of your existence, after you have died.

Dream As If You Will Live Forever,

Dream As If You Will Die Today.