Sincerely, Mama and Papa

I brush a piece of seaweed from my neck, it grazes my cheek and reluctantly falls, withering back into the depths of the churning sea. The sea spews out more seaweed that clings to my ankles and sends goosebumps down my neck. I close my eyes, trying to block out the events of the past couple of hours. 

No. 

I try to force the thoughts out of my fragile mind, but they persist, wiggling through little apertures and bringing an orphic ambiance with it. Chaos. It was complete chaos and the only pocket of peace I held was the kiss on my forehead. My mother kissing me goodbye and pushing me out of the plane. Pushing me to safety. 

Only moments later, the reflection of fire had played in my eyes, the plane nose-dived into the land. I had watched; bobbing up and down in the sea, watching my whole life get consumed by the fires licking the plane before me. I vaguely recall screaming; screaming for Mama and Papa. 

I try not to think of their bodies—probably now a burnt black heap of limbs. And as I walk out of the sea, I allow myself one more chance to think of them before leaving it all behind. Starting anew; forcing myself to leave my old life. I know it will only bring pain and misery. 

I conjure up an image of their joyous faces bubbling with excitement and eyes emanating a radiant glow. My mother’s voice—usually as sweet as honey, but as sharp as a serrated knife when she was displeased. The coarse feel of my father’s hands when he held my shoulders and restrained me from running into the road when I was little. Saving me. But yet, I was unable to save them. 

It’s all I can do to stop cursing myself and my utter, complete impotence. I gulp; Mama and Papa wouldn’t have wanted me to curse myself. But I know Big Ed would. He would beat me until a stream of apologies cascaded out of my mouth and satisfied his parched sadism.  

A drop of moisture leaks out of my eye and I furiously wipe it away; embarrassed to be crying out in the open. That would have been two more beatings. 

A breeze plays on my face, lifting strands of my hair up and fiddling with them. I gulp in fresh air, the smell of fish no longer making me wrinkle my nose; I hardly even smell it now. 

More deep breaths. I inhale a new life and exhale the old one. I keep exhaling until memories of beatings and bright, fake smiles and hurriedly crying in the closet all float around Earth, wondering who to capture next. I make a silent prayer for whomever they choose, and I keep walking.

The sand is warm and grainy beneath my feet. Formidable cliffs surround me and I panic for a moment, wondering how I get out, before I see a set of dirty stairs to my left, leading up and onto tarmac roads. I head towards them, the sand slowly dripping off my feet as the seawater evaporates. I’m barefoot, my shoes had been the last thing on my mind when I’d jumped; I must’ve lost them at sea. My clothes are already starting to dry off with the sun beating down. Still, I shiver—though I suspect it has more to do with past events rather than the weather. 

Once I reach the tarmac roads, I’m surprised to see neatly-lined houses and a distant din of voices. Curious, I keep walking, not caring about what I must look like. I see no people yet; not even a dog prowling around the trash cans.

The rows of houses slowly turn into stores and restaurants and people start materializing in front of me. The sheer amount of life stops me short and I wonder how long just the prospect of seeing people will amaze me. I hope it’s not for long. My head swivels here and there; I’m shocked that normal life still persists after… 

It seems almost illegal. But it’s a selfish thought; I know that. People have lives to run. Even when other’s lives stop to catch their breath and decide to never resume.

I pass by two men smoking a long cigarette, plumes of smoke billowing from the thing and wafting under my nostrils. I cough as I walk away from them, hearing barks of laughter. My face grows hot. I suddenly realize how mad I must look: water dripping off me, unkempt hair, wild eyes, and bare feet. Women with fancy dresses and small waists pass by me, laughing hysterically and a bit too loud to be true. I miss my mother’s unfeigned laugh—a laugh that could make even the sullenest of men crack a smile.

Big posters and bright lettering loom into view from storefronts and I almost have to shield my eyes from the extravagance of it all.

People bustle all around me, and I look up at the sky for a moment of serene escape. I’m met with no disappointment. Reds are streaked across the sky, falling seamlessly into pastel oranges, tapering out into dark blues in the far distance. The sky gradually gets darker and darker, all the while, the town getting less and less busy.

I near the end of the town; almost no people are around now. Woods stretch out in front of me. Something about the ominous-looking branches and eerie silence draws me in. I yearn to have peace of mind for a while, no voices or distractions. 

Nettles brush my ankles and I swat at a fly buzzing around my neck. I notice Mother Nature’s effort at distracting me. My lips morph into something of a smile.

After trudging through the woods for around an hour, I find a circle of moss and a big tree next to it. I can almost fool myself into thinking that it was placed here especially for me. I lie down, my clothes completely dry now. Looking to my right, I sense crawling insects in the earth. It doesn’t scare me. 

A gleam in my peripheral vision catches my attention. I turn towards it. Turn towards the starry night.

Two stars shine bright in the sky, glimmering in the moonlight. They twinkle down on me. I know who they are. I blow a kiss towards them while moisture collects at the corner of my eyes and then drips silently down. 

A foreign girl in the middle of English woods. Watched upon by her dear Mama and Papa.