I have always wanted to tell my story to my friends, but I find it very difficult to say the words that I am about to write down to them. I do not want to disturb them with the things that I went through. I do not want to trouble them with my concerns. I do not want to appear to be paranoid about the world. In fact, I hope that I do not have to tell them my story. I hope that I can talk about the weather, the blue sky, the white cloud, the green grass, and the freedom of being human. I wish that I can tell them a story with a happy ending, with healthy people, and with cheerful statements and encouraging motto. I wish that I can talk about my hair, my clothes, my boyfriend, my car, and the teachers I don't like from school.
However, life is like that. It is not always cheerful. We are not always healthy. Not all stories ends with prince and princess living happily ever after. Just like you will not encounter good weather everyday. Sometimes, it may rain. Sometimes, sun may shine. Sometimes, a storm is brewing. You never know what you are going to get.
I am just like everybody else in this world, at least I hope I am. My parents are respectable enough. From a young age, I have been taught to obey what my parents and teachers and never question their authority. I couldn't be more wrong.
Spring is here again. Each time when it rains, more flowers are coming out of the ground. Daffodils are blooming again, plum tree has new leaves, and the white petals are swinging slowly in the gentle wind. I truly hope that my problems will go away, but they are like my best friend who keeps calling in the evening, and continue the discussion in the classroom, while I am walking down the stairs, and when I am washing my hands. It follows me when the evening falls, when I open the lock on my door, when I close my window for the night, and falls on the soft bed. My problem just wouldn't go away.
I know it is inevitable that my problem will catch up with me. I have known of its existence for some time now, but I can't tell my friends. They will just laugh. They will think that I made it up.
People on the street don't know that I have this problem, and I am glad that they don't. Ignorance is a bliss.
A boy is licking a giant raspberry ice cream when I walk home today. I can't help but look twice at him. There is something about him that I cannot say. I cannot yet grasp its meaning by the first look, but I totally understand what is going to happen when I look at him for the second time. I don't think I can tell him anything. I am afraid that I might scare him. What he doesn't know is that he is going to die tonight.
I really hope that I can warn him, but I can't. He is not the only one who is going to die tonight. The lady who is smoking a cigarette across the street is also going to leave this world forever. She just doesn't know it.
I stop in front of the kid and smile at him. His mother drags him away from me quickly as if I am some kind of disease. I have totally forgotten what I am wearing right now.
I am still in my school uniform. I come from a public school where parents who are not in the highest social calibre send their kids to study. My classmates are not the brightest, but they are not the dumbest, either. The mother must have thought I am some kid of troubled teenager, waiting to pounce on her kid.
In fact, it is not I who pounce on her kid. She cannot see it coming. I don't think I will be able to help her, either.
My bag is still full of school books and class notes. Opening my bag, I take out the dark envelope that I received that day in class. My name, printed in white loopy letters, is sitting on top of the dark envelope that bears no other signs. The envelope is still unopened.
"Mum, I am back."
My mother is standing behind the ice cream counter, still holding the scoop. She dips it in clean water and wipes it when the aroma of raspberry spreads in the atmosphere. I love that smell.
"How are you?"
"I am good. I am going up to do my homework now."
"Good. Dinner will be ready at 5."
My bag lands beside my bed. The paper of the envelope is thick and formal. I hope this is not another bad news.
Drew Tole
Please come to Hell Hotel to meet Mr. Black at 9 p.m. this evening.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Chapter 1
A story always starts in the beginning, and I think it will be a good idea for me to start at the beginning as well, then we will talk about the middle, but I won't tell you the ending since my life has not ended yet. You may feel that you've been cheated out of knowing what will happen to me, but this is life. Of course, it is also a ploy to lure you into reading my next adventure but we will see how you find this one.
My name is Morgan Fisher and my parents are who you would call the fishing folks. I was not privy to the information as to how they met since I wasn't around to tell the tale, however, my grandparents were jovial enough to let loose some juicy details, and of course my aunts and uncles were obliging in telling me stories about my parents when they were young.
My mother was from a rich family. Her parents never needed to work for a living, that's saying something. She lived in a nice house in the city, and one day, she went to the beach with her sister and brother. Some of my relatives said that she was summering there, and some other said that she just stayed there for a few days. However, the important thing is that she was quite sick for some time so she had to be there for a few weeks at least to recover from her illness. She didn't come back to town until later, and that's what my grandma called too late. I guess grandma wasn't too happy about mother marrying my father, but she never said that she was unhappy. She wasn't happy because father never acknowledge her presence, not because she hated him. It was that ignorance that infuriates her. Grandma isn't a snob, she just needs more attention.
My mother was very sick for a while, eventually, she left the beach and had to go into the hospital. My parents got married after she came out, but after I was born, she had to go back. I hardly ever see my mother.
I remember my nanny clearly. My father was always there, but my mother was never around. When I was a teenager, I asked grandma about my mother. She was very sad, and she told me that my mother cannot come back home because she's very sick. I asked her why can't she just come back for a few days, then grandma said that she cannot bear that. I was upset and started crying even though I am supposed to be a big girl now. Grandma understood what happened, and she held me until I stopped crying.
My life has always been foreshadowed by a sick parent. I wasn't that surprised when I found out that I am different, too. However, my mother's illness has got nothing to do with what I've got. I don't really know her, but I remember her face. I remember that she played me a nice song on the piano. I remember that she was polite to me, nice and warm her hands were, but that was all I remember.
My father took me to see a doctor in the city. Grandma and grandpa were both worried, but there was nothing they can do. My doctor was a nice man, and he told all of us what was happening, and he told us not to panic because he reckons that I won't be sick for very long. He was wrong. I am sick all the time, and now, he and my family can only sit and watch the illness spread through my body.
You must be familiar with the movie Little Mermaids. I am somewhat like a little mermaid, but it doesn't do my condition any justice. I don't have a green tail, or red hair. In fact, my body is grey and smooth. I have recently developed a breathing hole on top of my head. You can say that I have "evolved" from human to fish, or you can say that I am growing into a dolphin. Yes, it is extremely painful, and yes, it is very strange and I won't mind if you want to stop reading this. I think I will, too, if I know my life is going to get worse before it gets better.
I am fortunate that I live in a country where water is abundant. If I am not so fortunate, I think I will die very quickly when my condition gets worse. In the beginning, I couldn't control my metamorphosis. I would suddenly turn into a fish-like creature, lying on the ground panting for air. My relatives will quickly put me into their pool, or in dad's case, into the sea right outside his house. If I am at school, my teacher would put me into the school pool, or later, into the university pool or just splash water on me before they can do anything. I carry a medical bracelet, and I have a huge tank filled with water in my car. I can't live without water.
Dad never remarried. Mum came home a few times after I started high school. She got better, then she got worse. Sometimes, we sat in the yard looking at the flowers. Some days they are yellow, some days they are pink, and some days there were no flowers when mum was home. We sat together doing crossword puzzles, she cooked for me, and she sang to me. I wrote articles about my absent mother, she was never bad to me, but I don't remember much about her. She was still special and important, but always in the background.
Dad would always hold mum when she cried in the evening. I think that's why I hate the darkness so much. Mum didn't like the night. After sunset, she would sit in front of the fire or turned on all the lights in the house. Dad got her a lot of lights so she wouldn't be afraid. I never asked dad why mum is afraid of the light, but I think I will ask him one day. It is still a mystery to me. I don't know why but I don't think dad wants to talk about it.
Mum encouraged me to write a dairy. She said it helped her and she often showed me her dairy from the hospital. Sometimes, she just drew a little picture instead of writing words. I liked those days. Sometimes, the pages were filled with fantastic stories from her dreams. Sometimes, there would be gaps in the book where pages have been torn out. I could see some tears on the following pages as well, but I wasn't stupid enough to talk about those days. Mum was ill, that I know, and I think when she was upset, there was a reason, and even if the reason was a secret, I wouldn't talk about it. I love my mum.
I think I have talked enough about my mum. I will tell you about what is happening now. This is much more interesting than speaking about my past. You will see.
I have mastered the art of changing. It has taken years to perfect, and I practiced in grandma's pool and in the ocean as well. I walked down the beach when it was warm, the sun would shine on me and I relaxed. I would walked into the water as if I am going to drown myself, then I let myself go. I swim for some time as a human, and in the matter of minutes, I surface as a dolphin. In the beginning, my body wasn't formed properly so it was a struggle to transform. I became an adult and it was easier for me now. I swim out into the ocean and explore the world under the blue. It was a great feeling. Life on the shore goes on, I try not to leave my family too often, but the call of the wild is too strong for me. I often go for days on end now. That's why I don't work for someone else, I have my own business.
Grandma and grandpa aren't so happy about me working, but they don't run my life. My little car takes me around the island and I do odd jobs for people. Sometimes, they give me an odd look because I am just a girl. They say you are too young to be doing this, and I tell them that I am not, I can do what you want me to do and I will do it well. Most of the time, I come home with some money and sometimes I come home with nothing. I don't care, my family has money, it's not really important how much money I earn. The important thing is to keep moving.
My name is Morgan Fisher and my parents are who you would call the fishing folks. I was not privy to the information as to how they met since I wasn't around to tell the tale, however, my grandparents were jovial enough to let loose some juicy details, and of course my aunts and uncles were obliging in telling me stories about my parents when they were young.
My mother was from a rich family. Her parents never needed to work for a living, that's saying something. She lived in a nice house in the city, and one day, she went to the beach with her sister and brother. Some of my relatives said that she was summering there, and some other said that she just stayed there for a few days. However, the important thing is that she was quite sick for some time so she had to be there for a few weeks at least to recover from her illness. She didn't come back to town until later, and that's what my grandma called too late. I guess grandma wasn't too happy about mother marrying my father, but she never said that she was unhappy. She wasn't happy because father never acknowledge her presence, not because she hated him. It was that ignorance that infuriates her. Grandma isn't a snob, she just needs more attention.
My mother was very sick for a while, eventually, she left the beach and had to go into the hospital. My parents got married after she came out, but after I was born, she had to go back. I hardly ever see my mother.
I remember my nanny clearly. My father was always there, but my mother was never around. When I was a teenager, I asked grandma about my mother. She was very sad, and she told me that my mother cannot come back home because she's very sick. I asked her why can't she just come back for a few days, then grandma said that she cannot bear that. I was upset and started crying even though I am supposed to be a big girl now. Grandma understood what happened, and she held me until I stopped crying.
My life has always been foreshadowed by a sick parent. I wasn't that surprised when I found out that I am different, too. However, my mother's illness has got nothing to do with what I've got. I don't really know her, but I remember her face. I remember that she played me a nice song on the piano. I remember that she was polite to me, nice and warm her hands were, but that was all I remember.
My father took me to see a doctor in the city. Grandma and grandpa were both worried, but there was nothing they can do. My doctor was a nice man, and he told all of us what was happening, and he told us not to panic because he reckons that I won't be sick for very long. He was wrong. I am sick all the time, and now, he and my family can only sit and watch the illness spread through my body.
You must be familiar with the movie Little Mermaids. I am somewhat like a little mermaid, but it doesn't do my condition any justice. I don't have a green tail, or red hair. In fact, my body is grey and smooth. I have recently developed a breathing hole on top of my head. You can say that I have "evolved" from human to fish, or you can say that I am growing into a dolphin. Yes, it is extremely painful, and yes, it is very strange and I won't mind if you want to stop reading this. I think I will, too, if I know my life is going to get worse before it gets better.
I am fortunate that I live in a country where water is abundant. If I am not so fortunate, I think I will die very quickly when my condition gets worse. In the beginning, I couldn't control my metamorphosis. I would suddenly turn into a fish-like creature, lying on the ground panting for air. My relatives will quickly put me into their pool, or in dad's case, into the sea right outside his house. If I am at school, my teacher would put me into the school pool, or later, into the university pool or just splash water on me before they can do anything. I carry a medical bracelet, and I have a huge tank filled with water in my car. I can't live without water.
Dad never remarried. Mum came home a few times after I started high school. She got better, then she got worse. Sometimes, we sat in the yard looking at the flowers. Some days they are yellow, some days they are pink, and some days there were no flowers when mum was home. We sat together doing crossword puzzles, she cooked for me, and she sang to me. I wrote articles about my absent mother, she was never bad to me, but I don't remember much about her. She was still special and important, but always in the background.
Dad would always hold mum when she cried in the evening. I think that's why I hate the darkness so much. Mum didn't like the night. After sunset, she would sit in front of the fire or turned on all the lights in the house. Dad got her a lot of lights so she wouldn't be afraid. I never asked dad why mum is afraid of the light, but I think I will ask him one day. It is still a mystery to me. I don't know why but I don't think dad wants to talk about it.
Mum encouraged me to write a dairy. She said it helped her and she often showed me her dairy from the hospital. Sometimes, she just drew a little picture instead of writing words. I liked those days. Sometimes, the pages were filled with fantastic stories from her dreams. Sometimes, there would be gaps in the book where pages have been torn out. I could see some tears on the following pages as well, but I wasn't stupid enough to talk about those days. Mum was ill, that I know, and I think when she was upset, there was a reason, and even if the reason was a secret, I wouldn't talk about it. I love my mum.
I think I have talked enough about my mum. I will tell you about what is happening now. This is much more interesting than speaking about my past. You will see.
I have mastered the art of changing. It has taken years to perfect, and I practiced in grandma's pool and in the ocean as well. I walked down the beach when it was warm, the sun would shine on me and I relaxed. I would walked into the water as if I am going to drown myself, then I let myself go. I swim for some time as a human, and in the matter of minutes, I surface as a dolphin. In the beginning, my body wasn't formed properly so it was a struggle to transform. I became an adult and it was easier for me now. I swim out into the ocean and explore the world under the blue. It was a great feeling. Life on the shore goes on, I try not to leave my family too often, but the call of the wild is too strong for me. I often go for days on end now. That's why I don't work for someone else, I have my own business.
Grandma and grandpa aren't so happy about me working, but they don't run my life. My little car takes me around the island and I do odd jobs for people. Sometimes, they give me an odd look because I am just a girl. They say you are too young to be doing this, and I tell them that I am not, I can do what you want me to do and I will do it well. Most of the time, I come home with some money and sometimes I come home with nothing. I don't care, my family has money, it's not really important how much money I earn. The important thing is to keep moving.
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