I locked myself in a bathroom for the last hour of my life. The windows wouldnt open. There was no way to unscrew the faulty doorknob. At one point I said to myself, Hope, you are going to have to morph into a liquid state and squirm your way out underneath this door if you want to live. Sadly, I lacked the kinetic energy to do so. I tried everything. Flare guns to alert the airway patrol, teaching sign language to the carrier pigeons mocking me outside the windows. I was doomed. My hands, blistered. My spirit, defeated. Malaria was surely setting in by then. I had assimilated with the indigenous people, smearing paint on my face and speaking a language only a true savage could understand. Night was turning to day as I looked out the window into a world that had become foreign to me in such a short amount of time. It was then, through blind hope and lasting desperation, I decided to knock three times and whine, Dad, help me. This is the moment my father fulfilled his destiny. He assumed the form of a warrior and opened the door. I guess I wasnt turning the knob far enough. Thank you, father of mine. You risked your life. You risked everything for me. My people, for generations to come, will remember you as a hero. Good night, cruel world. My life is a joke.
Posted on: Fri, 26 Sep 2014 06:26:07 +0000
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