Hello Hiver's, this is Virgoxsy once again, a good day to everyone! How have all of you been doing this week? I hope it was and will be filled with delight. So this time I want to share a piece of my work from last years entry in joining our schools publication. It may not be as good as you expect it to be but I hope you'll like it!
The scent of resentment, some believe, can linger deep within our souls for years. They say it grows little by little until it becomes vicious, that enables yourself to be blindfolded by hatred which leads you to villainy.
Source: Pinterest
It was 4 or was it 5 years ago when things got quite chaotic. Drought was visible, and scarcity of food arose. Multiple lives were on the brink of death, while other people developed unexplainable diseases. Children’s heaven-sent laughs can no longer be seen or heard, nor can those plump and rosy cheeks be seen. My family was not well-off. In order to live, we have to work hard under the melting heat of the sun. But it wasn’t a hindrance for my parents. It seems like the hardships they experienced became their motivation to continue and raise me to be strong-willed and independent. All was well until a tragedy happened that changed my life in an instant.
The night was as pitch black as Snow White's hair, and looking up at the sky, there were no stars to be seen. Mists were scattered, and howls from wolves could be heard a mile away. All the lights were off in all the houses in the village, all except one.
It was in the middle of the night, with a strong cold breeze that could pass through my thick comforter and envelope the entire room. I was soundly asleep when suddenly an earsplitting rattle woke me up, followed by the loud voice of a woman. I hurriedly jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. Running to see where the commotion was, I felt a tingling anticipation of what unfortunate events might unfold.
When I arrived, the door to my parents’ room was slightly opened, and I can see a dim light coming from a specific corner of the room. There, I saw my dad. Shock and fear were visible in those deep brown eyes. He was holding a broken piece of a glass bottle, with blood dripping through those sharp edges. Not too far from where he stood, a woman was laying helplessly and barely breathing. Her face was completely covered in blood, rendering her unrecognizable, but one tiny thing caught my attention—it was a silver ring, and it was the exact same ring that I gave my mom three weeks ago for her birthday. All sorts of negative emotions filled my entire soul.
My mom just died, and I did not even do anything to prevent it. I badly want to cry, but it seems like tears from my eyes have ceased to exist. I didn't even bother asking my father why he committed such despicable deed. The thought of revenge embraced my whole system and took control of me. A dagger on a table not far from where I was drew my attention. The thought of me stabbing my father a hundred times brought pleasure to my whole being. And suddenly, I saw myself standing near two dead bodies.
The funny thing is that I did not even feel any remorse, guilt, or even sadness for what I had done. The stench of blood it’s carrying could drive anyone insane, and it definitely made me insane. After hours of just sitting there, staring at their lifeless bodies, I grabbed a shovel and buried their bodies near the huge willow tree in our backyard. The night was windy, which gave me chills and made me shed a tear as I gazed up at the starry night sky.
Since that day, I have left our home and brought nothing with me except for my mom’s ring. I was strolling on the riverbank and watching nature unfold itself, which is quite mesmerizing. Kids were playing not far from where I was, and it put my mind at ease that they were having a good time. I saw a nearby bench covered in moss as green as emerald. I was about to sit down when I saw an old abandoned book on the bench; it had a deckle edge but was still useful, so I opened it and ran my fingers down the pages until I found a phrase saying, "Nobody is the villain of their own story." So it got me thinking about my unfortunate life, and that simple phrase proved that books are not always right, because I myself am a perfect example of a villain in their own story.
Thank you so much for taking a portion of your time to read my work! Have a great day everyone!