The old woman's house was empty, except for a small stack of furniture in the corner - a rocking chair filled with blankets, quilts and other decorative items, as well as two large suitcases lined up on the floor. It was her favorite spot to sit when she felt like reminiscing about those past days and weeks spent here. She even found it nice to have someone who would help her look through all her possessions and organize them into something neat for the future, instead of simply throwing everything in the trash can on the way out.
As soon as she pulled her door open, she heard the sound of heavy footsteps from inside her house. "Feshion," she thought to herself, and as quickly as possible opened the front door and waved at her caregiver who came over to check on her. Her heart jumped a little bit as he greeted him with a welcoming smile. He then walked down the hall and stopped in front of the most beautiful desk she had ever seen. A big yellow computer was sitting on top of a large filing cabinet, full of files, documents and anything else you could imagine; books and journals were scattered across it. On top of that was a picture frame with what looked like a few paintings and photographs tucked underneath - but they weren't actually pictures of people. They were sketches. If she remembered right, this wall was covered in different paintings throughout the years.
"Feshion." His deep voice whispered as he spoke to her. With one hand he held another sheet or paper, while holding the pen in his other hand as if it was a weapon. Then after flipping through the papers looking for whatever he wanted, he finally found some sort of journal from before and read the page carefully. Some strange writings popped up on the screen; most of the pages were blank. There was one note that stood out, however.
"It's funny how much I remember something only half of it makes sense." In a long stream of text, written in very short sentences mixed with symbols and drawings, the same words he kept repeating over and over again. He was writing in broken English. "I had to figure out why I couldn't come back home. And so many things just happened there and I never got there." This time it felt familiar. "Where is my mom?" he wrote out loud, almost whispering.
The words poured onto the page, which slowly turned white. When she saw how cold and quiet she felt in the bottom of the room with no air conditioning, her eyes started watering. Suddenly she felt sick and shivered, realizing a little too late how much water she had been drinking. "Oh no!" she said aloud as she started shaking uncontrollably. She put her head to one side, trying to keep any light out of her eyes that would allow her to see what was happening, but it wasn't working. By now every single second felt like an eternity. After a couple minutes, her eyelids closed completely. Tears began pouring down the sides of her cheeks and the walls began to shake and sway back and forth. As she continued to cry over and over again, all around her, there seemed to be a black cloud hovering over the world, blocking the sunlight from entering at any angle to see what happened, but there was still movement. One by one, the doors from outside opened one by one, revealing the new owners of the house. Their faces were unrecognizable to the ones from last night. Every single one of them looked sad and tired. "Hey Mom," one man called out to her, and she knew that he was the oldest brother that lived in the town. All those years, she didn't know why he didn't come home, so to speak. Maybe he needed to go to medical school and work somewhere else, maybe he wanted to be closer to his parents, maybe he was going to start teaching at college. But he hadn't left a note or a message with their names, just saying he loved her and wanted to meet her someday. Or maybe he didn't know what day he would be returning because now he looked completely exhausted and pale - and honestly, he was pretty much everyone's favorite cousin.
Another man approached her, a tall blonde man with curly brown hair and freckles running down the center of his face. Not wanting to scare anyone away; he tried his best not to act like someone who was supposed to be dead. "Feshion." His voice shook slightly as he reached towards her with both hands. At first just being touched made her feel dizzy, and then she realized that his fingers were clammy and cold. That's when pain flooded through her body, taking in every inch of flesh, leaving her eyes with a permanent blue tint. Finally, she gave in, and he picked up her entire weight, and threw her against the wall. "Feshion." She screamed, kicking out at him as hard and painfully as she could while thrashing wildly around and hitting her head on the corner as hard and as frequently as she could. She could hear his breathing getting harder as each punch she delivered. "Feshion.” The boy was shouting over the noises coming from outside. "Get off me! You stupid fucking liar!" He repeated. All of a sudden, the darkness appeared again and she was able to focus on where she was on the ground. "Feshion, please stop." Another voice rang through the crowd as they heard the cries of her mother. They heard the sharp thud of her father, and they heard the sounds of breaking and shattering as glass and pieces of wood were thrown throughout the room. Once more, Feshion. No more screaming. Just silent crying. Silence. So much silence. Until a thin ribbon of light suddenly cut through all of the noise, bringing peace and happiness.
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