Simplethings

Prologue

Prologue

THE LITTLE BOY LOOKED out the window as his parents chattered animatedly on the ride home from the church. He watched the raindrops splatter on the windows as they drove past an ice cream shop—wishing he could buy ice cream. But his parents would never let him have ice cream in this cold weather.

"Pamilerin, what did you learn in church today?" His father asked, pulling him out of his chocolatey daydream.

"Um, they told us about Adam and Eve. Then they gave us biscuits after sha." Pamilerin said quietly, realizing that he had forgotten most of what he heard in church earlier.

"Is it because of biscuits that you went to church?" His father scolded him but his mother quickly came to the rescue, by asking his father what he was going to eat when they got home.

"I was thinking we could eat out." He heard his father say and his lips curved into a small smile.

"Can we get ice cream too?" He asked, sitting up and looking at his mother with pleading eyes.

"But sweetie, the cold-"

"Please nah. Even if it's just a tiny cup." He demonstrated with his thumb and his index finger, placing them a few inches apart in a circular arc.

"Okay. Just a little." His mother gave in with a warm smile and his eyes lit up with excitement.

He leaned back in his seat as his father launched into another tirade on how he was being pampered and he hoped fervently that it wouldn't affect his mothers' decision.

"But darling—oh my God, look out!" He heard his mother yell but before he realized what was going on, the car swerved off the slippery road, doing somersaults down the steep road until it landed upside down.

Scrambling out of the broken window, he rushed to his mother's side of the car, shaking her furiously and asking her to wake up. How could she fall asleep at this time? He noticed some people coming towards them, barking orders at each other to call the ambulance. Ignoring them, he rushed over to the other side of the car, and tapped his father. His father was never a deep sleeper, so why was he sleeping now?

A crowd had formed around them now, shaking heads in pity and some women tried to pull him away from the damaged car. He fought them as hard as his little hands could, shouting at his parents to get up. This wasn't the time to sleep, they had promised him ice cream, and they had to get up.

But his protests died down immediately when the car suddenly burst into flames. Trembling, he sank into the stranger’s arms, watching helplessly as his parents laid there, lifeless, unmoved by the fire that was burning around them.

The panicky shouts of the crowd drowned in the background, and the last thing he heard was the rhythmic sound of the siren, before he finally gave into the darkness.