Pools of Blood

chapter 46

It was a double-story house. The yellow walls were faded and cracked from where weeds were spiraling onto the entire building. At the threshold stood a delicate marble fountain, which once sprouted soft gurgling waters that resonated in the surrounding silence in the chilly wintry wind. The house seemed to welcome me from the open door to the wide hallway. Upon the placid faded walls was a big framed photograph of a boy in little kimono and his parents. Smiling beautiful parents who loved their son so much. The photo was a memory, so far-fetched that I couldn’t recollect any of it. My mother was a paragon of beauty. She was an American. Blonde hair like a Barbie and blue eyes. A perfect picture of a young American model in Korean Kimono. In the photo, she had tied her hair with flowers, which enhanced her beauty thousands of times. Her eyes were big with dark lashes sparkling in delight. She was my mom. Mom died leaving me alone forever. Beside her was my dad. He was laughing wide-mouthed upon some jokes probably I had cracked. His hangul features were very prominent. High cheekbones, small tanned eyes, and pink blushing skin were all that I have inherited. He was wearing a brown cotton kimono shirt and black pajamas. He was holding my hand and looking at mom’s eyes.

" I remember this photo", Topaz's uncle pulled me out of my trance. " That day was, you were all dressed ready for the worship and suddenly your father called me up and requested me to click a photo which he would frame in the hallway wall. You were five years old then. How happy all three of you looked! "

Breathe stuck into my throat and I felt a sense of uneasiness creeping inside me. Jasmine took hold of my hand.

"You don’t need to face it alone. I am with you." She whispered.

I let my eyes wander to every inch of the hall. Wooden planks were jutting out from different angles. Flashes of my childhood memories rushed out from the hidden parts of my brain. The wooden framed sash windows were propped open with sticks and dirt and grime. Outside the windows, there was a small rose garden planted which had turned wild and flowerless. Everything everywhere was riddled with mosses and weeds.

The hallway ended with a spiraling staircase which led into a tall galleried room with a dirty slimy rug spread out over the flagstones and a fireplace big enough to park a car in. there was no fire in the grate only ashes and unburnt pieces of woods. A long dirty table had been set for three people which was covered with chunks of woods and mortars dropped from the burst ceiling. That was our kitchen hall where we used to sit thrice a day to take our meals. the kitchen cabinet was a black hole with all the utensils and bottles scattered. It was a gas cylinder explosion and it blasted the kitchen out from the shape of our house. 

I remembered that day. Everything slowly came back to me. I was playing outside near the stream. My mother was probably making lunch for both of us. My father was cleaning the table preparing the plates and glasses in order. And the cylinder blasted. I ran back towards the hall. Frightened and shivering in fear. I called out to my mom. She didn’t reply. I called out to dad. He was silent too. I climbed the stairs and ran towards the smoke. Everything was hazy and grey. My eyes were burning in the poisonous smoke. I saw my mother lying down, limbs detached from her torso. My father was nearby. Dead. I coughed in the smoke and my head was reeling in pain and shock. I was too young to understand why they weren’t getting up. I thought my dad was playing a prank upon me. My eyes were glistening with tears and I fell on the floor. I cried and cried for my mother. I cried for my father to pick me up. Then everything blacked out.

For years I have tried to prevent this nightmare from occurring. Only after I met Mrs. Wang, they stopped completely. Now, the whole scene flashed again before my eyes. I looked at those faded chalked marked places where my parents fell. There were police labels with signs of Do Not Cross everywhere in that room. 

"Let's go from here", Jasmine pulled me towards the other end of the house towards the bedrooms. The first one that we entered clearly said that it belonged to me. When I was young I had drawn a small poster with my name and attached it to the door of my room. I opened the door. The walls were painted in bright-colored once upon a time, now had lost their luster. The bed was not pushed up against the wall but was kinda in the center. Dirty Toys and teddy bears wrapped in dirt and cobwebs filled the shelves and the chairs. There was a nightstand just above the bed and there was a couple of books like Goosebumps and Vampires of the forests. I probably loved those when I was a kid. The bed was without a cover and over it laid a thick layer of pristine dust. Not a footfall had disturbed this room in some years. The toys looked to one another, their previously cheerful faces wiped out of all emotions full of sadness for the loss of their player.

I closed the door and opened the one adjacent to it. It was my parent’s room. A large mahogany bed pervaded the whole ambiance. There were lockers and shelves full of books and diaries. A big statue of Buddha at one corner and a Cross hung at the opposite wall were the only two ornaments that the room held. My mom never liked luxurious decorations. She was a very simple-minded lady with a pious heart. On the back wall was a mural, a tree with every color of fall leaf imaginable, and a few more besides. What astounded me was that nearly every inch of the right wall beside the bed was covered with photos. Photos of my parents and myself. Happy memories of a small family just before Satan sneaked in. In all the photos, I looked so lively beside my mom and dad. the feeling of warmth, the elated sensation, and the euphoric sparkling eyes made me desire to retreat. I wished for a time machine by which I could go back to my past and save my family from the disaster.

With trembling hands I touched the photos, tracing the faces of my parents, the smile that lingered on my mom’s lips, and the crinkle of my father’s eyes. They didn’t deserve that untimely death. I didn’t deserve that cruel separation. Why did it all happen? Every piece of my broken heart pained and I took my face into my hands and ended up in tears.