I looked upon those seven girls no longer breathing. I recalled the world "deathbed." In that bright white alley, they lay there lifeless. I don't think to explore the cause behind it. Death cannot be overturned or reversed. It stays right where it is. It doesn't go anywhere.
The only reason I spilled tears was because of the wretched shape I was in. I had no memory of being loved. Especially not at first glance.
The day they were welcomed into their homes, they were given heirloom bells. It proved that they were loved like family. In all my days, I'd never been given a bell.
And yet here I was, alive, while these girls, who were supposedly loved unconditionally, were dead. It might have been poison. Perhaps even disease. Maybe I, too, would be whisked off by the cold wind of death.
Either way, I was alive.
A part of my heart scoffed, "Serves you right. Just look at the evidence. You ridiculed me, and I survived. You paid the price of cruelty with your lives. Behold! I'm alive."
But no matter how much I yelled, none of them opened their eyes. And my tears didn't stop.
As I picked up one bell after another off the floor, I swore to myself that I wouldn't grieve over them. Not after I'd endured such suffering my whole life. I had the right to mock their life and death. The sound of the bells that were not mine echoed in vain through the air like the tolling bells of a funeral.
Seven Colored Bells
I looked upon those seven girls no longer breathing. I recalled the world "deathbed." In that bright white alley, they lay there lifeless. I don't think to explore the cause behind it. Death cannot be overturned or reversed. It stays right where it is. It doesn't go anywhere.
The only reason I spilled tears was because of the wretched shape I was in. I had no memory of being loved. Especially not at first glance.
The day they were welcomed into their homes, they were given heirloom bells. It proved that they were loved like family. In all my days, I'd never been given a bell.
And yet here I was, alive, while these girls, who were supposedly loved unconditionally, were dead. It might have been poison. Perhaps even disease. Maybe I, too, would be whisked off by the cold wind of death.
Either way, I was alive.
A part of my heart scoffed, "Serves you right. Just look at the evidence. You ridiculed me, and I survived. You paid the price of cruelty with your lives. Behold! I'm alive."
But no matter how much I yelled, none of them opened their eyes. And my tears didn't stop.
As I picked up one bell after another off the floor, I swore to myself that I wouldn't grieve over them. Not after I'd endured such suffering my whole life. I had the right to mock their life and death. The sound of the bells that were not mine echoed in vain through the air like the tolling bells of a funeral.