Here goes.
I had a dream, a dream where I saw my friends I had throughout my life, being killed one after another in front of my eyes. Somehow, I was never hurt. I just stood there looking at the carnage surrounding me. I couldn’t do anything as I see their hapless bodies being tossed around, some of them were children.
I tried to scream, “Stop!” But I couldn’t utter out a word. Tears flowed from my eyes, the bitterness, and the pain in my heart. I was torn apart from within. The cries of anguish pierced into the very core of my soul.
My heart screams, “Save them!” But my body seemed to be a sentinel frozen in time, the only living testament to the atrocities happening before me. The last scream of anguish could be heard. It was a young girl. I remembered her as a cute pixie face with a smile beaming with joy. Now, all that remains of her is a mangled body surrounded by a pool of blood. Her eyes frozen wide open in shock and agony. My heart pounds as I weep. I retch, tasting the mixture of my tears and the blood of my fallen comrades.
Silence, the mad slaughter is over. I could finally regain control of my body. A field of crimson, still wet and slick appears before me. Has the world gone mad?
A light appears before me. A light so brilliant, I had to cast my eyes down. Is it the end? I wondered. I deserved it after all. I gazed down, uncertain of the fate that is about to fall unto me. Oh Fortuna, is this my destiny? To see the very faces I love disappear one after another? I shifted my eyes to the light once again, relishing what’s possibly the last moments of my life.
“Mister.” A tiny familiar voice whispered from behind me. I turned around, looking at a pair of eyes of sepia blue staring directly into the back of my head, her golden hair gently swaying in the wind. It was that girl. Behind her, an entire row of departed soul, each of them was carrying a gentle smile.
“Don’t cry.” She whispered, her voice trailing off in the caressing breeze. “Perhaps this is a reason for you to live; to allow yourself a second chance.”
But I couldn’t stop weeping. “Sorry.” I kept saying in between sobs. She embraced me, telling me it was alright. But this time, the voice has a tinge in sorrow. “I don’t want to go, Mister.” Tears were rolling off her cheeks. Then wiping off the tears from her eyes, she tearfully pulled away from me. “Goodbye, mister, I can’t stay any longer.” After which, she walked into the corridor of light, her petite form gradually being swallowed into the blanket of brightness.
As the souls of the departed walked by me, each of them gave me a hug and a few words of encouragement. The air grew heavy as memories of happier times swirled in my mind. Every one of these souls carries a story from the past, causing a roller coaster ride in my mind. Perhaps it’s their way of telling me that they lived on in my heart. A childhood sweet heart, a fellow classmate, a platoon mate, the elderly coffee shop attendant who greets me each morning, the children who I interact with everyday; faces which I have seen momentarily, faces which I have known a lifetime, they were all shaping their memories in me. My heart sank as I relived the memories, knowing that their owners would never come back. I bided one tearful goodbye after another, until the last soul remains.
“Remember us.” He smiled sadly, after which he turned and entered the light. The light dimmed and vanished as quickly as it appeared. All that is left, is a blood soaked field strewn with the lifeless vassals of stale flash and blood.
“Hope you guys are enjoying the stay up there.” I mumbled, as I made my way out of the forsaken land. Broken in spirit I might be, baptized by the raw experience of seeing death in its face, I have emerged from this scene a wretched man. The only thing that probably kept me sane is the precious memories that I promised to hold. Perhaps the true meaning of a fulfilled life is one where someone remembers you for what you have done for him. And it is this legacy that you have left behind that makes you who you are.
Maybe my friends wanted to depart, knowing that there will be at least someone who will remember them. They didn’t want to be just a mere statistic, a nameless number who have died on this field. They would prefer to leave with some dignity.
The dead needs no memories. But all the same, it’s always the living that will live it on for them. Being the sole survivor, the burden will rest on my shoulders. The massacre did not end with the last victim, it will continue on in my mind forever. Will this ever end? Perhaps not until the day I meet my comrades again.
As I walked back to the fields today, the air was filled with tranquility. The once blood drenched fields were now filled with a carpet of lavender flowers. A silent breeze caresses my cheeks. A monument lies in the middle of this fields, stating,” Less we forget.” A lone figure stood by the monument, it was a young boy. “The winds are weeping today don’t you think so? It is as if she is calling for a lost friend.”
Indeed, years have passed. All evidence of death has been covered with life. The flowers swayed in the wind, as if they were trying to say,” You are back again.” But the emotions will always remain. The place is finally at peace, but a lingering sadness remains. My dear friends, you have not died in vain. For life is precious, thank you forgiving me this second chance to live my life to the fullest. Your memories will remain as long as I am alive. So here I am, writing in memory of you. Goodbye dear friends.
As this story ends, I will have to make my way back to reality, another world, another dream, another story for me to narrate again.
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