Happy Birthday

• Gauri Sharma, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2018

Happy birthday

The consistent beeps. The pouring rain. The operating room. The sounds soften in her mind allowing her to focus on the more important ones. The echoing wail of her mum, already heartbroken from the death of her husband; my dad. The despairing, choking sounds of her older brother, who she had only seen cry once, were heard every few seconds.

To you

The rushed footsteps. The shouting. The screaming. It wasn’t meant to be him. She tried to let out a sound, but it was as if someone had tied up her vocal cords and tightened them every time she opened her mouth.

Happy birthday

The intermittent beeps. The doctors. The patient. Through the small circular window, she saw the blue curtain casting shadows of the many surgeons behind it. Panic spread through her as fast as the bubonic plague spread throughout Europe as her muscles stiffened.

To you

The sound of silence. Even through the thick metal door, the long piercing sound could penetrate her ears. The muffled voices of the surgeons grew louder as she heard them shouting “clear” every once in a while. She looked over at my mum, whose face had already become a faint bluish-pale.

Happy birthday

Whatever happened after that, went by quickly. She was stuck in a cloud of confusion herself yet the blame always went on her. Maybe if she had paid more attention. Maybe if she jumped out in front of him he would still be here smiling and annoying her as usual.

Dear Joshua

Her family blamed her. The police blamed her. She couldn’t possibly blame them though. Joshua was loved and people needed someone to blame. Someone to exert their anger, sadness, pain, longing and everything else on.

Happy birthday

10 years later, she sat in her room, holding onto her brother’s favourite things that had lasted the test of time. His favourite hoodie, which was probably too small for him now... if he were still here. His favourite book, whose pages had started to yellow from the edges. His favourite basketball which was deflated, since she couldn’t afford a pump to inflate it again.

To you

The dim glow of the candle contrasted against the dark room, one final time, as she blew away the flickering flame. The smell of that one small candle, filled the room, enveloping the space around her in the familiar smell of Christmas: cinnamon, roasted chestnuts and wine. Pieces of broken memories flashed through her as she closed her eyes, remembering the smiles of her family who had ever since the accident, broken up.

She cried, but not the tears that burn as they slide down your skin, but those that are let out the last time. She was tired, her unruly hair, further emphasising her exhaustion. In Joshua’s absence, she decided to make a wish for him, “I wish… that I can join you soon” she said, as she began tying a knot using a rope around her neck, tightly.