I trotted down the rough path, the pebbles kicking back into the soles of my shoes. The wind whistled and blew in my ears, biting them softly with the cold touch of its lips, giving me a bittersweet sample of its touch. It wasn’t a cold day, but the sun had already been falling to its dusk, the glints of light peeking through the clouds and covering me in a blanket of its warmth. As I made my way past the hills of parakeet-green turfs, I allowed the bristles to brush up against my fingertips, giving me another reminder that things weren’t the same anymore.
Finally, I reached my destination, it was a small wooden home, vanished with a deep hickory tone and decorated by the vines, hanging from the beams which supported the roof. It was crafted from my ancestors which had already departed, yet it always gave me nostalgia looking back at it.
“Grandma?” I voiced out, I came inside and peered into the kitchen, cans scattered along the floors, some gravel in the entrance. I always came over to her to check how she was doing, after all, she wasn’t in the right state of health. It wasn’t easy, hearing the rumbles that echoed in my dreams and having to take care of myself, let alone someone else when the country couldn’t handle itself. After slipping off my jacket, I walked into the living room, noticing my grandma was settled in her rocking chair, the one she always loved to hear stories from when she was a child. She stared at me blankly and I couldn’t help but worry, losing my grandfather broke my heart, but I know it crushed hers.
She smiled at me gently and gave me a nod, staying silent and gently swaying in her seat.
Moving gently towards her, not knowing what was going on. She had a blank expression on her face. “Grandma, are you ok?” I decided to call her. She never responded, but instead began humming a song that was quite familiar to me. It was the tune to my grandfather’s favourite song. As I went closer, the humming increased louder. For the first time in my life, I felt terror. At this time, I realised I needed help; something was wrong, but I wasn’t sure what it was.
Now standing next to her, I placed my hand on hers in the hopes of providing some support. She turned and looked at me, her eyes were black. I started trembling as she tightened her grip. “grandma, stop you hurting me!” I yelled, and after one strike to the head from a hard object, I collapsed to the ground, and everything stopped silent.
Twenty Years Later…
I’m still confined with 16 other individuals in a dungeon, waiting for my turn, as the cannibals pick random choices whenever they come this way. Who am I, and where am I? My grandmother was not seen again.