Friday, June 27, 2008

Spring was coming. Finally, white snow would no longer blanket the roads, the trees would regain their colorful clothes, the sun would come out to play for longer hours. A little girl skipped along the road, just out of school, enjoying the fresh air and happily looking forward to dinner. The remnants of snow crunched under her tiny black velvet shoes, each adorned by an elegant black bow. Mother had always made sure she looked pretty no matter what. Today she was wearing a nicely ironed light blue dress to match her eyes along with those black velvet shoes. It was a special occasion: her sixth birthday.

The farther she walked, the more sadness seemed to take over her body. She no longer skipped and her shoulders slumped. The happiness seemed to be chased out of her eyes and she kicked at the ground, stirring up little swirls of dust that settled onto those black velvet shoes.

Daddy had given her those black velvet shoes. But Daddy had died a month ago. Daddy killed himself in the living room with a .45 Caliber pistol. She could still remember the incident as clearly as she could remember her own name.

Mother had gone to the grocery store to buy food for their supper and she had just gotten back from school. In fact, she had walked the very road she was walking now. She was also wearing those black velvet shoes that fateful day; they were a Christmas present from Daddy. The last Christmas present she would be getting from Daddy. She had walked into the doorway of the living room and saw Daddy standing there with the gun to his head. He was crying, the tears making tracks down his face, but no sound escaped his lips. She stood in that doorway, just staring at Daddy.

Why hadn't she stopped Daddy? That question always haunted her.

Daddy closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

BANG.

The noise shocked her eardrums and she watched helplessly as Daddy collapsed to the floor. He wasn't moving and there was blood trickling down his head. She tentatively walked forward a few steps.

"Daddy?"

There was no response. She couldn't comprehend it. Was Daddy sleeping? She stood in the middle of the living room, just looking at Daddy. She heard the lock click as Mother opened the front door. But she couldn't move, she couldn't tear her eyes away from Daddy.

"Tamara?"

Mother was calling for her. But she couldn't respond. Her mouth seemed to be duct taped shut and her feet seemed to be glued to the ground. Mother walked into the living room and her eyes widened as she took in the scene. Mother whispered Daddy's name and ran towards him.

That was the last thing Tamara remembered. She didn’t know what happened afterwards. But today was her sixth birthday, but Daddy wouldn't be there to celebrate it with her. Where was Daddy? Did he know that she would be turning six today? She looked down at those velvet shoes. I miss you Daddy. The tears in her eyes were fastening their seat belts and were ready for takeoff. Her emotions were an open book, and the dominant one was longing. She was longing for Daddy.

She could see something getting brighter behind her. What was it? She could hear a sound too. What was the sound? It sounded like a car. Tamara turned around. She could see the shiny red car getting closer and closer. The headlights leered menacingly at her, but she couldn't move. It was that fateful day all over again, her feet were glued to the ground and she could do nothing but watch the car getting closer and closer.

The driver pressed down hard on the breaks, the screech reminding her of the shot that killed Daddy. The car hit her head on. Her small body was thrown back a she lay there. The pain overtook her and she struggled to breathe. The driver had slammed the door of the car and was running towards her, talking frantically on his cell phone.

It was time.

She looked down at those black velvet shoes. I'm coming Daddy.

Labels: Writing

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