Sixteen Pink Balloons - Chapter 1

           The torrid sun breathes a phosphorus fire onto the earth only to witness vitality deteriorating effortlessly under the scorching heat; summer has finally arrived " at the tip of his stout nose, at the ends of his poorly groomed russet hair gradually becoming webbed by silver threads, brushing his cracked skin with a vigilant gentleness, pushing with slight aggression " in every empty space in this cosmic world. For a reason his withering heart will never know, it tastes acerbic, a gulp of claustrophobia, on the brink of decay. And so, it seems as if no vast ocean of the sweetest orchid fragrant can wash upon the summer’s shore of dried tears mixed with the grains of sand that once composed the bodies of lost souls.
           Because 3 weeks ago, on the 13th of May, Auden Watson committed the selfish transgression of suicide.
           But not before gashing her beautiful wrists and sinking her body further into the tub overflowing in the scarlet tears of her guardian angels along with the broken promises her beloved Lord could not keep until she bled to her pitiful end. Her brain had fled before her body and mind could comprehend what was going on as she painted the waters into a deep shade of burgundy. The small, quaint town of Roseville was temporarily paralyzed by the shocking news. And in that brief pause in mortality, it seemed as if almost every soul sent their prayers to her, even if they were all too late. Prayers could not pour life into the dead. For what is gone is gone " forever. Yet her family refused to believe she was gone, never to return again, never to infect every mortal in the room with her contagious smile. Her older brother wept on his only sibling’s bed the entire night after failing to protect what was most dear to him. Her father insisted that it was a mistaken identity, that they must have confused the identity of his daughter with another missing girl. After all, the body was not discovered until three weeks later. After all, she was only 16-years-old.  
           His daughter’s name is Auden Watson. Was.
           Today is her funeral.
           The daunting funeral home looms " an unwanted and over postponed reception into hell. And they are herded, like little lost lambs, by security into the viewing room. Her brother does not emit a single utter or a single tear. Her father avoids conversation to his wife who is still grieving for neglecting to contact her daughter even once during their extended vacation to Germany as well as his son who is berating himself for abandoning his sister for a parallel universe. Her father avoids eye contact with the faces of Roseville who sneers at him and the remaining members of his family for deserting their blood for water.
           The police officer causes the Watson family to halt in their gait, tapping a cacophonous tune on his wooden clipboard with one of those complimentary pens given for visiting the doctor’s, “Family of the deceased?”
           He nods mutely, eyes elsewhere, neck turned.
           “Names?”
           Nathan, Caroline, Aiden "
           The end note falters.
           His family’s names now croon an incomplete song, ringing the agonizing resonance of absence.
           “I am sorry for your lost,” The officer scribbles incoherent words onto his clipboard and with that, he sets a compass on his feet and departs.
           The viewing room is nearly vacant with just a few family members along with several teachers who look uncomfortable to be there at all. The family members had not seen nor heard of Auden in such a long duration in time that they almost feel as though she was a complete stranger, just a another face that will soon dissolve into the sea of unrecognizable faces lost in the depths of their uncharted memories. The teachers all harbor the same guilt for Auden’s tragic death. If only they had not disregarded the physical contusions on her porcelain skin. If only they had not dismissed her muffled cries rather than continuing their agenda. If only . . .
           If only someone did not tuck the memories of her distress away in the crevices as time capsules.
           Nathan walks along the long red runway that leads to his daughter’s closed casket. The police officer stated that it was best to cremate her remnants but her father detested the idea of burning his only daughter without her permission so they had settled on leaving the casket closed from reality, to leave her slumbering figure unseen by wandering eyes. In his wake, he leaves a trail of craters flowing in the tears of his heart’s utmost disappointment. His heart has become so frail that even the sound of silence shatters it into thousands of fragments for the world to incise upon his battered flesh with its razor shards. Yet he tells himself that he must muster his remaining strength for Auden; he tells himself that the aching pain will leak from the spaces of his universe and his daughter’s light will flood in its place. As he ambles towards Auden’s casket, he tortures his mind with thoughts of what if. What if he arrived earlier? What if he was there for her?
           But reality crashes upon him and he feels the ruthless waves of regret. Not being able to dance with his daughter, not being able to advise her significant other not to hurt her, not being able to see her honey coated smile radiating underneath her white veil.
           When he finally reaches her, he immediately drops down onto his weakened knees, tracing the rim of the casket with his cracked fingertips. The casket is arctic cold, like the body that inhabits it. “Auden,” he begins to cry out. “Forgive me, my love. If only I could take two fingers on the clock and walk backwards with them until I could save you, I swear on my life that I would have never entrusted your life with your useless brother, Aiden. I never would have let you out of my sight. I never would have left you alone. If only . . .”
           He continues to kneel in complete silence as the world around him runs past him, perhaps waiting for a single word to escape through those gabby lips that once constantly told him endless anecdotes of the cosmic universe the two of them lived in. But he does not hear a single word, a single mumble, a single utter underneath the casket. He waits for minutes until he realizes that the word Auden is sending him is silence. The silence of death because some things in this infinite galaxy the two of them once lived in are just not meant to live.
           “Nathan Watson,” the same police officer reels him from the looming darkness that threatens to consume him, “The crime scene investigation team found this at the scene and thought it was best to give it to your family.”
           Again, he nods without a single word, his eyes fixated on his daughter, neck downward. He says nothing. He does nothing. In that moment, Nathan has become one with the walls, watching the main attraction in the room " Auden.
           The officer takes a mental note for Nathan Watson’s rude behavior and places the item beside his distraught figure.  It is a blank video tape. “I am sorry for your lost. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you and your family. My family and I send our condolences.”
           And he never can imagine the level of anguish the Watson family feels, especially Nathan Watson. The police officer does not see the eclipses that bleed an ominous crimson sky in Nathan’s world. He does not see the moonlight that slips in between window blinds and exposes Nathan’s cries like its broad daylight. He does not see any of this. In reality’s resentful realm, the police officer sees the sun melting its way down a beautiful horizon. He sees a figure dancing in the waves of a translucent future rather than a figure bounded to the past by shackles of twisted thorns.
           His precious daughter is gone. No more birthday candles. No more laughs. No more kisses. Just white roses for a white ghost.
           “Nathan, can we please go? I don’t want to spend another second in this awful place.”
           His wife, Caroline, crouches beside him a few minutes after the officer left. She is dressed in her blackest clothing " a velvet dress illuminated by a constellation of gleaming white pearls hanging below her slender neck. It reminds Nathan of night " Auden’s favorite time of day because every reverberation is amplified. “I can’t stand the looks on everyone’s faces as if we are nothing but scum. I can’t stand it! This is a funeral for heaven’s sake! Our old gardener spat at my heels, the cook threatened to pierce me with his blade, a few of the old maids wanted to beat me with broomsticks! The audacity of some people! I want to leave! We are unwelcome even in our own daughter’s funeral.”
           “We are now unwelcome wherever we go,” Nathan replies, engraving the touch of Auden’s casket into his memory. For a while, he wants to stay frozen. He wants to stay fixated on his spot and mark his territory with his awful stench until his eyes have stitched every inch his precious girl’s casket onto the back of his eye sockets, until he has watched over her for a thousand tally marks. “We are at fault for her death. We were her parent’s. We could have, we should have, but did not save her. We must now pay the price for our actions. We must take full responsibility over what we did wrong.”
          Because between right and wrong, they chose left.
           Caroline relinquishes an exasperated breath from her body. He could tell she is emotionally exhausted but he does not care. His daughter is not at home to greet him with a tender kiss. She’s not there or anywhere. She’s not even on this earth. So what is the point in going to a place he no longer considers a home? “Nathan, if you want to stay here forever, then be my guest. But I will not allow anyone to spit on me and treat me as if I am not human as well. I deserve to be treated with their utmost respect and I’d be dammed if I receive anything less. Nathan, my dear, if you choose not to come with me then I will just see you at home.”
           Or not.
           That night Caroline falls asleep with ghosts in her empty bed, curled in the threads of her wool blanket, murmuring taunts of eternity into her shells of her ears and pouring their broken dreams onto her eyelids. It sends tidal waves of arctic shivers to dig a watery grave for her frostbitten body. Winter’s breath sleeps in her bones, enveloped in icicles of frozen arteries and crystal veins. There are no warm heart beats to thaw this glaciated tomb her stiff body has been sculptured to. Warmth’s hope knows no boundaries here, in this world.

Author's Note

There are mistakes; be courteous.