Whispers of the Dying Sun: Raven's Journey

Today was my birthday, but they forgot again. I told myself this over and over, trying to keep the sadness from creeping in, but it was useless. Deep inside, there was still a little hope—hope that maybe, just maybe, someone would remember, that I would hear a simple "Happy birthday, Raven." But as I looked at the time, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. To them, I was nothing but air, invisible and insignificant. I envied kids like me whose families celebrated their birthdays with joy, laughter, and warmth. They had cakes, presents, and loving embraces. I had silence. If only Grandma were still alive, she would have greeted me warmly. She would have made me feel special. She would have prepared something, maybe even slaughtered a chicken like she always did before. But she wasn’t here anymore. The one person who truly cared was gone, leaving behind nothing but memories and an emptiness no one else seemed to notice. I clenched my fists, biting my lower lip to keep the tears at bay. I was used to this, wasn’t I? Being forgotten, being treated like I didn’t exist? And yet, every year, the pain stung just as sharply as the first time. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stand. There was no use waiting for something that would never come. Maybe I should just celebrate on my own. Maybe I owed that much to myself. Grabbing my worn-out jacket, I stepped outside. The cool evening breeze brushed against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. The world outside was just as quiet as my home, the streetlights casting a lonely glow on the pavement. I walked, each step feeling heavier than the last, whispering to myself, "Happy birthday, Raven. Even if no one else said it, I would say it for myself. Because I mattered. Even if they didn’t see it, I didn't know where I was going at first. My feet carried me forward, and before I knew it, I was heading toward the seaside. Maybe the sound of the waves would help ease the weight pressing against my chest. Maybe the vastness of the ocean would remind me that my loneliness wasn’t the end of the world. By the time I reached the shore, the night had fully settled in. The moon reflected on the water’s surface, casting a silver glow on the waves. I took off my shoes, letting my feet sink into the cold sand. The grains pressed between my toes, grounding me in the moment, even as my thoughts drifted elsewhere. I had waited all day. Just one greeting, just one sign that my family remembered. But the hours had passed, and nothing had changed. It was as if my birthday didn’t exist to them. Clenching my jaw, I tried to swallow the ache in my heart. Maybe I was being dramatic. Maybe I should have stopped expecting anything by now. But wasn’t it natural to want to be remembered? Wasn’t it normal to hope that the people who were supposed to love you would care, even just once a year? I sat down, hugging my knees to my chest as I listened to the rhythmic crashing of the waves. Happy birthday to me," I whispered again, my voice barely audible against the wind. I stared at the horizon, wondering if there was someone—anyone—out there who might care. Then, just as I was about to close my eyes, my phone vibrated. A message. My heart skipped a beat. Maybe—just maybe—they remembered. Maybe I wasn’t as invisible as I thought. I hurried to check, my fingers trembling slightly as I unlocked my phone. But when I saw the sender, my breath caught in my throat. It wasn’t my family. It was from someone I never expected. Cleaford Smith. A f*******: friend I barely spoke to. I let out a bitter smile. "Tsk! Even a stranger remembered to greet me. I read his message: "Happy birthday, Raven! Wishing you all the best. It was a simple greeting, nothing special. But it still stung, because the people who were supposed to care the most didn’t even bother. Thank you," I replied, keeping it short. I didn’t feel like talking. A moment later, my phone vibrated again. Cleaford: "You're always welcome. I hope you enjoyed your birthday today with your loved ones. I let out a humourless chuckle, my smile turning even more bitter. "If only," I thought. I wouldn’t be feeling this emotional if I had spent the day with my family. But they didn’t even remember. How could they possibly celebrate with me? I sighed, locking my phone and staring back at the ocean. The gentle waves seemed to mock my loneliness, whispering what I already knew—I was alone. I buried my feet deeper into the sand, trying to push away the ache in my chest. It wasn’t like this was the first time I felt forgotten, but somehow, it still hurt just the same. My fingers absently traced patterns on the sand as I thought about Cleaford’s message. A stranger—someone I barely knew—was the only one who had remembered. Or at least, the only one who had bothered to greet me. I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse. Letting out another sigh, I hugged my knees tighter. "Why do I even care?" I muttered under my breath. But before I could sink further into my thoughts, my phone vibrated again. Another message. Expecting it to be another automated greeting from social media, I hesitated before unlocking my phone. But when I saw the sender, my heart weighed down with emotions I didn’t want to acknowledge. Cleaford: "Hey, why didn’t you reply? Did I offend you? Sorry, I just wanted to greet you properly. I sighed, the sound lost in the whisper of the waves. Annoyance flickered in my chest, but so did something else—guilt, maybe. He had done nothing wrong. In fact, he was the only one who had remembered. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to care. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard before finally typing a short response. Raven: "No, you didn’t. I’m just not in the mood to talk. The message was sent, and I placed the phone beside me on the sand, not expecting another reply. But within seconds, my screen lit up again. Cleaford: "I get it. Anyway, happy birthday again. I know we’re not close, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. I stared at his words, something inside me tightening painfully. A stranger—someone who barely knew me—was offering to listen. Yet the people I called family? They hadn’t even spared me a single word. Not even an absentminded "happy birthday" uttered in passing. I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head as bitterness curled in my throat. "He remembers, but they don’t. The waves crashed gently against the shore, the wind cool against my skin. I locked my phone without replying, hugging my knees to my chest as I gazed out into the endless, empty horizon. I had spent the whole day waiting for something that would never come. And now, as the night stretched on, I realised—maybe it never would. A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I wrapped my arms tighter around my legs, resting my chin on my knees. The salty breeze brushed against my face, carrying with it the faint scent of the ocean. It was oddly comforting, yet it did nothing to soothe the ache in my chest. Why did it still hurt so much? I should be used to this by now. I had grown up knowing that my birthday wasn’t important to them. Every year, I told myself not to expect anything, and every year, I failed. There was always that tiny spark of hope, buried deep inside me, foolishly wishing that maybe—just maybe—this time would be different. But it never was. I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly as I let the loneliness sink in. I had no choice but to embrace it. It was the only thing that had ever been consistent in my life. My phone buzzed again. I hesitated before picking it up, half-expecting another message from Cleaford. But when I saw the screen, my breath caught in my throat. It wasn’t him. Mom. For a moment, I just stared at the name, my heart pounding in my chest. My fingers trembled as I unlocked the phone and opened the message. Mom: "Hey, sorry, we got caught up with things. Happy birthday, sweetheart. Hope you had a great day. A bitter smile curled on my lips. Caught up with things. That was the excuse, as always. And yet, part of me still longed to believe that she truly meant those words. I typed a response, then erased it. Typed again. Erased it again. What was I supposed to say? "Thanks, Mom, but I spent the whole day wondering if you even remembered. No, that would sound too bitter. It’s okay. I understand. That was a lie. In the end, I settled for something simple. Raven: "Thanks. I pressed send and stared at the screen, waiting. Maybe she would say more. Maybe she would ask how my day was or tell me she loved me. Three dots appeared. My heart clenched. Then they disappeared. I let out a shaky breath, my eyes burning with unshed tears. That was it. That was all I would get. I turned my phone off and set it beside me. The ocean waves continued their rhythmic dance, whispering to the night. I closed my eyes, willing myself to feel nothing. But the pain was still there, clinging to me like a shadow I couldn’t shake. And yet, even through the loneliness, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered, You matter, even if they don’t see it. Maybe one day, I would believe it. A memory surfaced, warm and vivid against the cold of the night. My grandmother’s gentle voice, the way she would hum a tune as she worked in the kitchen. I could almost hear it now, the soft melody blending with the sound of the waves. Back when she was alive, my birthday was different. It was just the two of us, but that was enough. I remembered waking up to the smell of something delicious cooking—usually her special chicken stew, made just for me. She would greet me with a warm smile, pulling me into her arms and whispering, "Happy birthday, my little Raven. She always made me feel special. We didn’t have fancy cakes or expensive presents, but we had each other. She would light a single candle, place it on a small cupcake, and tell me to make a wish. "It doesn’t have to be big," she’d say. "Just something that makes your heart happy. I never wished for toys or money. I always wished for the same thing—to always have her by my side. I swallowed hard, the ache in my chest deepening. I had been so young back then, too innocent to understand that some wishes could never come true. When she passed away, that warmth, that love, had disappeared along with her. No one else had ever filled the void she left behind. Tears welled in my eyes, but I quickly wiped them away. She wouldn’t want me to be sad. She would want me to be strong, to keep going. But God, I missed her. More than anything, the wind picked up, carrying the scent of salt and sea. I closed my eyes and whispered, "I miss you, Grandma. Somewhere deep inside me, I imagined she was listening. That maybe, just maybe, she was still watching over me, celebrating my birthday in her own way. And for a brief moment, I didn’t feel so alone. I sat there for what felt like hours, letting the waves comfort me as I replayed those cherished moments in my mind. Grandma would never let me feel forgotten. If she were still here, she would have made my birthday special, even if it was just the two of us sitting together and sharing a simple meal. I imagined her warm hands cupping mine, the soft crinkles around her eyes as she smiled at me. "Don’t ever think you’re alone, my Raven," she would say. "You are loved, more than you know. A fresh wave of tears threatened to spill, but I blinked them away. I had spent so long searching for love and recognition in the wrong places, hoping for the bare minimum from people who barely noticed me. But maybe love wasn’t always about grand gestures or even simple greetings. Maybe it was about the people who had truly seen me, truly cared—even if they were no longer here. With a deep breath, I stood up and dusted the sand off my clothes. My heart still ached, but the weight didn’t feel as crushing as before. I glanced up at the night sky, the stars twinkling above, and for the first time that day, a small, genuine smile formed on my lips. Happy birthday to me," I whispered again, this time with a little less sadness and a little more warmth. As I walked along the quiet streets, my phone buzzed once more. I hesitated before checking it, my heart uncertain of what to expect. Cleaford: "Hey, Raven. I know today might not have been the best, but I just wanted you to know... You’re not alone, even if it feels that way sometimes. I stopped in my tracks, staring at the message. A lump formed in my throat. It was just a simple text, but it meant something. For the first time that night, I didn’t feel invisible. Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t as alone as I thought. I turned away from the ocean, ready to head back home. The loneliness wasn’t completely gone, and maybe it never would be—but I carried my grandmother’s love with me, and that was enough to keep going.