by B Latif
“Because,” he hesitated and continued in a low voice, “I have cancer. I’ll die soon and I don’t want Rose to be alone. She has often told me about you, and she has a great bond with you. I haven’t told her about cancer. She said you are a great mother… a great friend, a great woman…”
He stopped because the smile of amusement on my face had been replaced by a frown of wrath. He hadn’t told Rose!
Screw you, Henry.
“And you, my dear Henry,” I flared my nostrils, “are a great big bastard.”
Henry stared at me as my words and tone had changed, and also, I had called him by his first name. And, of course, a bastard too.
“Pardon?”
“You didn’t tell your wife! Why?” I controlled the anger bubbling inside me like a witch’s potion.
“Because I didn’t want to upset her. I wanted to spend my days with her in happiness as I’ll die soon.”
He glanced toward the kitchen to check if Rose was there, and then back at me. It was hard for me to control the urge to strangle him right there.
“Wrong,” the words came from between clenched teeth, “You will die now.”
He was alarmed, fidgeting in his chair, “Are you threatening me?”
“Oh, no, I’m just informing you,” I lowered my hand in my lap, “And here’s another piece of information: I’ll be the one taking your life.”
He couldn’t move, he was too absorbed in the conversation and also because my face was changing. There was no beauty now.
I was becoming a hideous figure, an old woman, with wrinkles on my skin and creases on my face. Henry’s eyes widened in horror as he saw my road-mapped hands, and blue eyes turning grey.
I got up from the chair, it was the best time to seek vengeance from an old friend. My toothless grin was enough to make him shout.
“ROSE! WHO ARE YOU? WHERE IS ROSE?”
I stood in front of him, looking at the puny human, “She can’t hear you.”
White strands of hair escaped from the pins, a big mole appeared on my crooked nose, and my back became very stooped.
“WHY?” he began to get up, but snakes appeared form thin air on his chair, wrapping around his arms and legs, securing him to the chair.
Breathing heavily, he stared at the snakes in utter horror.
“ROSE!” he yelled with as much energy as he had. A dozen snakes were creeping toward him across the floor, he was shivering.
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?” he cried.
“No,” I said airily, standing there like an old witch who could conjure snakes out of thin air, “No, Henry. I didn’t do anything to her. She is fine.”
“WHAT’S GOING ON?”
Now a snake was hissing by his ear, as if about to bite it. I bent forward, the mole on my nose almost touching him, “Don’t you realize?” I grinned, “You are already dead!”
He was fearful of an old woman. Looking at the snake creeping on his neck, as if he were a magnet that attracted snakes, he yelped, “Why are you standing there? Take them off, help me!”
I smiled again. Poor man he was, “But I won’t… because I’m the one doing it.”
Henry looked at me suddenly. He had nothing to say. Perhaps he assumed I knew witchcraft.
“You see,” I was pacing in front of him, very slowly, “I have to remind you of certain things –”
“STOP THIS!”
“Ahem,” I didn’t stop pacing but the snake slithered onto his lips, shutting them for me, “Bad manners to interrupt an old lady. I never thought my son-in-law would be so… ill-mannered. So, where was I? Ah… telling you certain things.”
I looked at him thoughtfully, narrowing my eyes, “First, let me introduce myself to you… I am Death, Rose’s mother and your mother-in-law.”
His eyes widened and I could hear his muffled sounds from behind the snake on his lips, “You are in nothingness. Henry Cavills is dead and I’m taking his life. Storytime.”
I sat on the rocking chair like a grandma preparing to tell her grandchildren a story.
“Once upon a time, Death was wondering what the best definition of Death would be. She found a girl, whose name was Aisha,” I paused, like a grandma pauses to catch her breath. He was turning blue now, “That girl called Death a belief. Death liked her definition, so when the girl died, she gave Death her daughter.”
I looked at Henry who was listening, the snake still holding his mouth shut.
“Death named her Rose. She grew up to be a wonderful girl and Death grew with her as her mother.”
The back and forth motion of the rocking chair stopped as I got up slowly and went to him.
“But one day, she met a bastard and fell in love with him.”
My voice was turning angry and rising. I drew in a deep breath, purely for effect. A snake crept on my grey robes and stayed on my shoulder, facing Henry, “And that bastard proposed to her.”
I wanted the snakes to bite him, eat him, go inside his mouth and pierce his body, but I resisted.
“They wanted to run away. When Rose told that man about her mother and showed her to him, you know what he did?” I crouched, face to face with him, “He shot an arrow at her.” the nail of my forefinger touched his chest, “and it passed through her, right here.”
He was shivering as if he was lying on ice, but there was sweat on his face.
“And it killed Death,” I hissed like the snake on my shoulder, “not the arrow. But it killed her to see that he was a thief who had stolen her daughter.”
I drew back. A snake began to slide around his neck, “It is because of that bastard she became a sinner. And guess what?”
I turned around fiercely, “He never told her that he had cancer. Now she will never know how he died.”
The snake was strangling him. His eyes grew wide, looking as if they would pop out of their sockets. I looked at the man for whom I had immense prejudice.
My victory.
The chair fell back from his struggling, and his head hit the floor hard. He couldn’t even choke as the snake had shut his mouth tightly. I watched him as he closed his eyes and the snakes gradually drew back from his expired body.
“The end,” I whispered.
End of the story of Henry Cavills. I left because I didn’t want to be seen beside a dead body or to see Rose crying.
Chapter 17
When the humans were celebrating the New Year, Rose was mourning over her husband’s death. When everyone else was preparing for parties, she was preparing for a funeral.
Although I had hatred for him, I also felt sad for him, and it was because of that sadness, I decided to attend his funeral.
I didn’t want Rose to see me even then. Wearing a black hood, I was the last person in the last row in the graveyard. That was only the second funeral I had attended. Everyone was wearing black, contrasting with the white snow, which was still falling steadily.
Poor Henry.
Sometimes I think it was all Rose’s fault, not his. She decided to leave me. She decided to tell lies. She chose her life. But I couldn’t blame my daughter for everything. Maybe I had more hatred for him than he deserved. He had given some of the best memories to my daughter, made her happy. Loved her.
I was going to leave when the eulogies caught my attention, especially when the priest invited Rose to speak. I couldn’t see her from where I was, but I wanted to hear her voice to see if she was okay.
In that silence, I heard her clearing her throat, “Henry,” her voice was slow and tragic, as if she had some weight on her chest, “I can still picture him with a bow… tall boots… and a dirty shirt… His messy hair and… and…”
She was crying, I could hear her sniffs, “I… love you. And I promise you, I will find the person who killed you… and kidnapped my mother….”
She broke into sobs.
It came as a shock to me. She assumed I had been kidnapped! Oh, no. Won’t she come back to me? To the forest? Oh, no. I didn’t know what to do.
It was okay. Maybe she was so lost in melancholy that she had ignored everything. I didn’t want her to see me anyway.
What to do now?
It wasn’t right to stand there in the graveyard, a hooded figure only Rose could see. So, I walked towards the grave.
I crouched by it, looking at the gravestone.
Henry Cavills.
This would be the first and last time I visited his grave. I had been so cruel to him in his last moments, lost my temper and a part of me felt guilty about how I had frightened him, more than I had frightened Jason.
“Henry Cavills,” I read the name again. There was nothing on his grave, no grass or flowers. Just snow. White snow.
And I remembered the first time I had followed him and seen red on white. I had thought it looked beautiful, what an evil thought I had.
Another guilt entered me. He had saved Rose’s life many times in the forest.
I touched the snow.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I knew very well that he couldn’t hear me, but I had to say it. Then I brought out a bunch of red roses from under my cloak. I had played the role of an evil human.
I placed the roses on his grave, red on white.
A final act of kindness.
***
OBSERVATION No. 36
Humans have become so unholy because they love a human more than they love the Lord. So why do they mourn when the Lord steals that person? After all, they also stole the Lord’s right and gave it to a person. It’s only the Lord’s right to be loved to the exclusion of all others.
Rose cried day and night for Henry. I could feel it, sitting by the tree in the forest.
I knew it because I could see the countless stars in the sky. She had said once her tears turned into stars.
It killed me to see her in pain. She didn’t have patience.
As I scrutinized the different figures the stars were making in the sky, I thought about what Rose’s next step would be. Would she go to Brasilia to see his parents? Would she report to the police that her mother was missing? Would she remain silent and live with it?
It was disturbing. The questions were disturbing.
I needed to keep myself busy and forget about it.
Maybe she wouldn’t find me, then she would give up and carry on with her life. Maybe she would marry someone else.
Still, I anticipated her arrival at the castle. The nasty castle. It had turned dirty, the vines were creeping on the walls, the roses were dead, bushes had grown where plants used to be, and thorns were reaching out.
The worst thing was I didn’t care. I didn’t care to clean it. I didn’t have any desire to clean it. Because somehow, I knew she wasn’t coming back. She would never come back and see if I was here or not.
She feared this place now.
So, there was no point in cleaning it. What was the point of cutting down weeds?
OBSERVATION No. 37
Depression is a universal disease.
When I say universal, it includes me as well. It is just the amount of depression that matters. Some have it to a point that it kills them, some turn into the walking dead because of it, and some live with it, trying their best to be happy.
OBSERVATION No. 38
Just like the quiet ones have the loudest minds, the funniest ones have the most depressed heart.
In every century, I have encountered these kinds of people and I feel pity for them.
As a shooting star passed by, it gave me a flash through the eyes of a child.
“Mama, why was the star running?”
“Umm… I think it’s in a hurry.”
“Why? Where is it going, Mama?”
“I think it is out of shine so it’s going to the sun to borrow some.”
“And where is the sun?”
“At home. Okay, Rose, you have to make a wish whenever you see a running star.”
“Okay.”
“Quick!”
“I wish that Mama and I could stay together forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and…”
“Okay, okay! I think the star carried your wish with it and will drop it to the Lord.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
The flashback ended.
The night was silent. There was no laughter. And in that night, I sang an old lullaby in a low voice, “Twinkle, twinkle… little star…”
***
OBSERVATION No. 39
Expect less to gain more.
I had always done it the other way around. I had always expected more and gained less.
I was roaming in the castle, the light was dim, and I was watching the walls on which Rose had written so many words in her childhood. I touched where she had written ‘mama.’
Did she miss me the way I did her?
It wasn’t fair. She could cry and I couldn’t. She could talk to people, share her grief, but I couldn’t.
It felt good to touch that word… Rose.
And it also felt good walking by the wall, I traced my fingers on them smoothly. Hundreds of words, it felt as if I was touching hundreds of books and hundreds of memories.
I didn’t want to stop, but the snapping of twigs made me stop in my place. No animal had trespassed the graveyard so how had an animal come here?
I hurried out to see what it was, expecting a wolf.
But I saw… I saw… Rose.
She was walking boldly with a serious expression on her face. I was so happy to see her back. I hurried toward her to greet her.
“Rose.”
Her face turned toward me, her feet halted and there was a twinkle in her eyes. As I approached her, my happiness grew steadily, reaching its zenith when I embraced her.
“You came back.” I said, closing my eyes as I hugged her, “I missed you so much.”
As I broke apart, I looked her indifferent face. I realized the sparkle in her eyes was because of tears. Holding her hands tightly in mine, it was hard to stop talking, “I was just thinking about you. I think about you all the time. Remember, you used to write on the walls? And when I asked you…”
The excitement stopped when I heard the rustling of leaves.
Several voices. I looked behind her shoulder, and then back at her. Tears were dripping from her eyes now.
“Rose?”
Again, I looked behind her shoulder. There were humans coming that way.
“Go and hide, someone is coming,” I tried to walk but was held back. Rose hadn’t moved, her hand still in mine, but she was standing still.
And the sudden revelation made me pause. I frowned at her, “What’s going on?”
She was about to break down. I waited for an explanation. And then came a whisper, full of indictment, “You killed him.”
“Wha’?” I was taken aback and released her hand.
“You killed Henry,” she whispered again, through gritted teeth.
The allegation made me stand for a moment, and I saw the men, several of them stopping behind Rose, looking at her.
“You are a murderer!” she whispered hatefully. I was so dumbfounded that I didn’t know what to say or how to prove it wasn’t true.
She had called me a murderer. Now I knew what people would call me if they saw me. Murderer.
And I felt an overwhelming hurt, “I… I didn’t kill him.”
“You did!” She snapped back, “and you’ll pay for this!”
Turning towards the policemen, she said, “This is the woman who killed my husband. Arrest her, officers.”
The men stared at her. Eyes of a dozen men were on her. I had no idea how to defend myself. When the men didn’t move, Rose repeated, “What are you waiting for? Arrest her!”
I was too shocked to say anything. Perhaps she thought the officers co
uld see me, just like Henry had been able to see me.
How wrong she was.
“Sorry, ma’am, arrest whom?”
Rose pointed at me, “This woman, my so-called mother, she killed Henry!”
Silence ruled.
Her words were insulting as well as hurting. I stared at her, was this Rose? Was this the same person whom I had thought was kidnapped and was desperate to find me? How could she even think I killed her husband?
“I’m sorry, lady, there’s no one here!”
As if the breath had been taken from her soul, Rose turned back toward me, held my arms and virtually yelled at the men.
“Can’t you see her? She killed Henry!”
“Ma’am, I can’t see anyone,” then he looked at the policemen and asked them, “Can you?”
They all shook their heads, exchanging looks. Rose looked at me. The tears had stopped, replaced by horror. She looked back at the men, “Are you mad? Why can’t you see her? I’m holding her arm, even Henry could see her!”
The final rays of sunshine were fading. Soon, delicious darkness would fall on the forest, but she was adamant to get me to jail.
“Why can’t they see you?” she asked me instead.
I didn’t answer. She asked again, this time, more forcefully, “Why can’t they see you?”
“I can’t tell you,” I replied.
She locked her eyes on mine, “What are you? Who are you?”
Silence. I freed my arm from her grip and turned my back to her, walking away.
“TELL ME!”
“Miss Rose,” the officer said, “Who are you talking to? There is nobody here.”
“YOU MONSTER!” She cried. I didn’t want to turn back now, and kept walking, “YOU RUINED MY LIFE!”
Different emotions were fighting for dominance in my mind; hurt, anger, guilt, confusion, regret.
Curling my hands into fist, I marched back to the castle.
“Miss Rose!” the officer seemed irritated, “There is no one here. You seem disturbed, let’s go back.”
“No!” Rose turned to him, “I was brought up here. Look at the castle, you must believe me!”
“I can’t believe you because of some ancient castle. My men searched it, there is no one inside.”