And that girl, she walked slowly along the pavement. It was almost dark but she has nothing to rush for, that’s why her steps small and a little bit meticulous. Her mouth started to whisper in a very soft voice that even if you are standing a step from her you won’t be able to hear it. “So, I hate birthday, and I said that like thousand times, so what? I thought along the growing up process and getting on in life I will change my mind and able to learn how to treat that symbolic day just like any other day. I failed. Sorry. I still hate birthday”. From the pavement she looked up to the grey sky and gave it a serious glare. Sky is beautiful no matter color it has, but black is the most beautiful of all. “If Mom spare me this birthday, not celebrating, I will be more than grateful. I don’t want cake, I don’t want admonition. Maybe another day but not tomorrow. I’m getting a year older tomorrow and I think I deserve a little bit discretionary” still in a soft low voice she continue talking to herself. Walking with heads up to the sky is tiring after some distance, so she looked front and nothing there but that long pavement. Her surroundings was creature less, only her, it was like everyone already settled inside their house on that particular hour just to let that girl with her thoughts wander around, desolated. “Tell me what is wrong with not wanting a reminder each year, it’s always bad luck on my birthday, and celebration makes it worse, and Mom as much as she loves me she always end up saying what I suppose to be on my birthday, what should I have achieved on my age, and it is all that I’m not, that make her sad, that make me depressed”
She suddenly stopped because something on the pavement caught her attention. She squat and try to look it clearly, it’s a dead red dragonfly. She picked it up by it’s wings, the stiff cadaver and put it on her palm. “Dragonfly, I loves dragonfly, look so vulnerable. Those wings, tail, dry body, you can easily crunch her. But she won’t care whatever you do with her. She is dead. Just like dead people, they won’t care about birthday too, or are they? Animals don’t celebrate birthday, their life span is short too. If I don’t celebrate any birthday, would it make me an animal, or a dead person?” she look at it for several minutes and then start walking again with more meticulous steps, with dead dragonfly on her palm. But after several steps she stopped again by the awareness that she is actually stand in front of the gate of the infamous haunted house. That 2 stores old fashioned house has been empty for a long time now. Rumors has spread that there are 6 ghosts reside in the house. It begins from different stories from different people, the residence of this area. Sometimes they see a lady with a long black hair, or a man with half of his head missing, or little girl holding her broken doll. Another time it’s an old man with all white hair, or a very big thick black shadow, or a priest walking with his dog. She walked closer to the gate. The terrace look terrible neglected and shabby. It looks like a perfect house for dead people. Suddenly she had goosebumps and shivered. But that didn’t make her step back instead she hold the gate with her other free hand and gave it a more intense look. Like hoping she will see one of the 6 ghosts. “If I die, will they let me stay with them? I’ll be the seventh. Perfect! So, I hate birthday, and they are asking why? They said I supposed to be grateful! I supposed to be proud! Yeah right, I’m proud and happy and grateful for my life, what’s the big fuss about birthday? Or maybe I’m never happy? Tell me Mom. We all are trying our best to be happy, that makes me questioning, what’s the important of being happy? Sad is a feeling too, sad is alright.”
She walked a little bit farther and then a little off the pavement to the small front yard of a yellow house. Even it is almost dark that yellow house still look bright, she frowned to that house as if she is annoyed by it. She looked the dead Dragonfly on her palm and squat again. She began digging a hole on the ground under the Zinnia bed, the colorful Zinnia that planted neatly like colorful fences of the yellow house. “She might like resting under colorful flower. Thou if it’s me, I will prefer that grey gravestone, or the front yard of that haunted house. But it’s so annoying to picture everything according to our frame of reference, our likes and dislikes. Mom said I’m different. I’m too quiet and too absorbed. I have no idea what ‘different’ she referred to. Is it because I don’t want a birthday cake like everyone else want it? Or is it because of me? I always try to be nice and all to anyone, but nothing seems enough lately…” She stopped digging, and there is a hole there now. She put the dragonfly carefully in the bottom of that tiny hole, look at it for the last time and cover it with dirt until it neatly covered and no signs of that area just been digging. She clapped her hands to clear off the dirt from her fingers then bend a little to pat her knees, and give that dragonfly’s grave another one-last-look. “Maybe tomorrow is a good day, but maybe tonight is a good night to die, maybe it’s the right age to die, maybe I can kill birthday” She walked back to the grey pavement. And as she sheer off, the darkness gets a little bit closer and closer to her.
“God uses fire to teach us about water. He uses earth so that we can understand the value of air. He uses death to show us the importance of life”. Paulo Coelho