Short Stories

ECHOES OF SILENCE (BY FRANKLINE SUNDAY)

He put the final touches on his letter and read it out loud. He liked it. He liked writing. This was his final masterpiece. By the time she reads this he would be long gone. He thought of how much he was going to miss her and a tear ran down his cheek. He smiled. It’s been long since he cried. As he mounted the chair and tied the noose around his neck, he tried to think of anything that could make him change his mind. He smiled when nothing came to mind. He said a prayer, took a deep breath and with a final look at her framed picture on his desk, he kicked the chair from under his feet.
Beatrice stood in her room by the window. She zipped her jacket higher to cover her neck. It was an unusually cold night. An eerie wind was slowly creeping across the hills bringing with it the smell of wet soil. From the look of things there was going to be another storm tonight. It was the offset of the short rains and for the past several days there had been a series of impromptu downpours that sometimes went on for hours on end. She looked at her watch. Fifteen minutes past midnight. Her roommates had all gone to the party. The student recreation center in campus had been recently renovated and tonight was the grand opening of the place. The party had long been awaited and today the hostels were practically empty.
A week ago they had talked about the party with Henry. They had never been out together on an overnight party. She was not a partying girl and although he loved partying, he never pressured her to go out with him. This Friday was their third year anniversary and as part of her gift to him, she had promised to accompany him to this party. Tonight however, Beatrice stood in her room. Cold, alone and sleep deprived, she wondered if she had made the right decision. Everything was fine until three days ago when she realized she was nine days late. She went to the dispensary and the attending nurse confirmed to her that indeed she was pregnant. Beatrice shuddered when she remembered the initial shock she received upon hearing the nurse. She felt like her world was crashing down around her. She knew the baby was Henry’s. She had no doubt about it. Henry was her one and only true love and before they met she was a virgin.
That he loved her wholeheartedly there was no doubt. Henry had the almost psychic ability of knowing just what she needed and always tried to make sure she got it. Be it a lovely bracelet she admired at a cosmetics shop or that all important shoulder to cry on when she felt she had no one to turn to. Beatrice knew that she would have to defer her studies by a year if she was to have the baby. Abortion was out of the question. Her devout Catholic orientation and her moral conscience would not allow her to live with the fact that she had procured an abortion.
Knowing the love that Henry had for her, Beatrice knew that he could not stay in school if she stopped her studies in order to have her baby. Henry was a man of honor: his dignity would not allow him to abandon her at this critical time. On her part, Beatrice was fine with a year’s deferment. She was in her third year of college and she could wait for one more year before completing her studies. Henry was however in his fourth year and due to graduate in less than six months. Deferring his studies would mean that he would have to wait for 18 months before he could graduate. She could not do this to him.
That’s why she had done it. She had invited him for breakfast that Friday morning and with much pain and agony, she had ended their three-year relationship. She told him that she had fallen out of love with him and felt that she needed to be alone for a while. It was the hardest lie she had ever had to tell. Henry was confused and she did not want to explain any more lest he found out the truth. She turned away from him to hide away the tears in her eyes and did not look at him until she heard him slowly rise and leave the room.
Beatrice picked his framed picture from her desk and looked into his loving eyes. She smiled back sadly at his honest smile and a pang of guilt shot through her heart. Maybe she should have told him the truth. The baby was also his after all and he had a right to know she was pregnant. As she locked her room and trudged slowly towards Henry’s hostel block, she could not push aside one fact that was engraved in her heart. She loved him. Although she desperately tried to convince herself that she could live without him, she knew she was only lying to herself.
Outside, the wind had gotten stronger and every now and then, a flash of lightning illuminated the sky and clothed the campus in a pale white light that made her spine tingle. A few seconds later she was climbing the stairs that led into the boy’s hostels. The rooms were quiet and although it was late, Beatrice knew that the occupants were at the party drinking and dancing their limbs off. Walking down the corridor that led to Henry’s room she noticed the thin rectangle of light around the door that confirmed that there was someone in. Dan his roommate was a savage party animal and Beatrice knew that Henry was in the room alone.
She was about to knock on the door but hesitated. What if she was making a big mistake? If she really loved him, was it not wise to just let him live his free life? Wasn’t she being selfish to ask him to put his life on hold for her sake? What if he hated her forever for doing that? How sure was she that he would still feel the same way about her if their lives took such a drastic turn? Before she could answer these and other questions that plagued her mind, she heard a chair crash to the ground.
Beatrice put her hand on the door knob and tried to open the door. The door opened a crack as the chair was blocking it. “Henry!” she screamed frantically as she tried to push the door wider so she could get through. Cold terror gripped her heart as she felt what could only be described as a sickening intuition that all was not well in the room. Perhaps it was the adrenalin. Others say it was love. Somehow, Beatrice managed to push the door wide open and fall into the room.
As her eyes adjusted to the sudden bright light, she stood up and what she saw made her heart stop. Henry had pried loose one of the ceiling boards, tied a rope round one of the roof beams and he was now hanging from it. She tried to move but her knees felt like rubber and her feet would not move. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came from her raspy throat. She stood there; powerless and motionless as she watched Henry’s body swing like a bizarre human pendulum.
Beatrice stood frozen in place. Still not believing what she was seeing, she felt like someone had placed her heart between his palms and was squeezing with all his might. A voice inside her was telling her to call for help but something told her that it was too late for that. Feeling like she was in a weird dream, she slowly raised the tipped chair and using a knife from the table, she cut through the rope that had viciously ended her dear Henry’s life.
The lifeless body of Henry sank to the floor and a part of Beatrice sank with it. She slowly dismounted the chair and knelt over her lover’s body. Even in death he still looked loving and kind. She gazed upon his paling face and ran her trembling fingertips along his tightly shut eyelids wishing that they would somehow open. She tried to cry but the tears would not flow and she just sat there, overwhelmed by a pain that knew no tears and a sorrow that knew no bounds. She knew that he was gone. Gone forever and no amount of regret or remorse would bring him back.
Outside the wind stopped blowing. The trees stopped swaying. Everything went still. No thunder. No lightening. Just silence. And then the rain fell. Down it fell in mournful torrents as the Heavens themselves wept over a love so truly born and bred yet so callously brought to an end.

THE END.

EPITAPH                                                                                             BY FRANKLINE SUNDAY
‘If there is anyone amongst us who has a reason why these two children of God should not be joined together in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.’ Linda looked around with a feeling of anxiety and anticipation. Anxiety because she thought somebody might actually have a cause to stop her wedding and anticipation because she wanted the priest to finish the service so she could finally be married.
This was it. The moment she had been waiting for all her life. Like any normal girl, Linda grew up with a vision of her wedding day firmly embedded in her mind. She had it all planned out. The elegant ceremony in a picturesque garden overlooking an equally spectacular view of nature. The hundreds of colorful lilacs to adorn the venue. The ornately designed invitations made out to the carefully selected guests. She would invite her married friends to show them just how much her wedding is better than theirs. Her single friends would be invited so they would have a taste of what they were missing. Linda designed and redesigned her wedding dress in her mind. While 12 years old, she had her mind firmly set on a pink dress whose hem touched the ground and encircled her like the base of a wine glass. She modified it by raising the hem to the knees and making it barebacked as she got to high school. It was while in campus that she settled on her final design. It was a peach colored silk gown that was a marvel in design. The back maintained the conventional wineglass design and the front was elegantly cut at knee level. The bodice was made up of rich flowing satin that was held in place by dozens of tiny cowry shells hand-sown end to end to form unique shoulder straps.
Beatrice, her best friend in campus had designed the dress for her while they were still in campus. Beatrice. Thinking of her brought back feelings of fond nostalgia. They were practically inseparable in campus and had even vowed to have a double wedding. Towards the end of their third year of college however, Beatrice’s boyfriend Henry was found dead in his hostel room. He had hanged himself. That same night, Beatrice mysteriously disappeared. No one, not her parents, relatives, or friends in campus ever heard from her again. After six weeks of frantic searching, the police declared that Beatrice was most probably dead and the case was closed. Three years later and her best friend was still missing. Deep down inside her Linda knew that her best friend was out there, alive and missing her.
“Therefore by the authority vested in me by the Roman Catholic Church, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Linda was jolted back to reality by the words of the priest. Finally! Linda looked at her new husband Stan and a bolt of happiness coursed through her whole body as she thought of all they had gone through.
Three years ago while still in college, Stan started having fainting spells accompanied by impulsive nauseous feelings. He was rushed to the dispensary and then transferred to the referral hospital where he was diagnosed with Leukemia. The doctors started him on a rigorous chemotherapy programme. The insurance company agreed to meet the costs of the treatment and his relatives supported him tremendously. They took turns accompanying him on his hospital visits and regularly visited him on campus. With all the support from his friends and family, Stan managed to get through college.
Three months after his graduation, the doctors hit a major snag in Stan’s treatment programme. It became evident that the chemotherapy was adversely affecting his brain cells. This was an expected side-effect that now presented a predicament. More chemotherapy would mean fatal brain damage and without the treatment, Stan’s chances of survival were virtually non-existent. Stan’s family was sharply divided between those who wanted the treatment to be stopped and those who didn’t. It was finally decided that the treatment should go on. The insurance company disagreed with this decision and Stan’s medical policy was terminated. The company argued that they could not pay for treatment that could cause medical complications to their client. That was what Stan was to them anyway; a client.
Stan thus had to rely on donations from friends and well wishers. Soon it became clear that his friends and well wishers were not all that friendly and well wishing. Relatives started changing addresses and friends mysteriously disappeared and changed phone numbers. Due to financial constraints, Stan’s parents decided to stop the treatment. This was met by adamant rebellion from Stan and Linda. The two lovers decided they would struggle to raise the funds in all means possible and continue with the treatment. There was nothing his parents could do to compel them. His father could not stand this disobedience and in a fit of rage, he openly renounced his son.
Linda and Stan thus found themselves alone. Their situation took a turn for the worse when the chemotherapy extensively damaged the left part of Stan’s brain dealing him a stroke that left him bedridden. Linda had to quit her job and take care of her boyfriend. The bank declined to give them a loan since both of them were unemployed and they soon used up all their savings and sold their assets. In a little while, Stan was forced to terminate his treatment. Destitute and ailing, Stan and his lover moved in a one-roomed shanty in Kibera where Stan patiently waited for the grim reaper to collect his due.

Through all their adversity, the love between them did not wane. It grew stronger. Linda’s father had abandoned her when she was a child and her mother had long since passed on. Stan was all she had and he literally meant the world to her. Often she would sit beside his bed for hours holding his hand. Stan could barely move his head in her direction and manage a weak smile of gratitude. His body severely emaciated and his soul viciously battered, Stan sometimes wondered weather euthanasia was better compared to waiting in agony for a slow and painful death. Although he never talked to Linda about it, she knew what he was thinking. Every time she looked into his broken eyes she could feel him pleading to be set free. But what was the poor girl to do? Although seeing him suffering seared her soul, she could not bring herself to end his life.
One promise Stan made to Linda before he got sick was that he would give her the dream wedding she had always wanted. The possibility of a wedding ever taking place grew dimmer as his health deteriorated by the day. But one thing that Stan never did was break his promises and he was not going to start doing it on his death bed. As his final dying wish, Stan asked Linda to marry him.
Linda prepared a small ceremony to take place in their humble home. Fr. Michael was called to preside over the wedding. Bill and Kate, Linda’s neighbours were invited to bear witness to the union. Linda now looked around at her dream wedding. No elegant garden. No hundreds of colourful lilacs. No fancy wedding gown. No friends and family. Just her and the man she ever truly loved. She looked down over Stan’s wasted face. Although twenty seven years old, the leukemia made him look sixty. His dry lips parted slowly into a smile of pure joy. Linda felt intense warmth welling in her heart as she smiled back at him. ‘I love you’ he whispered, his voice barely audible. ‘I love you too’ she whispered back at him.
That night Stan died in his sleep. Linda woke up and as usual, crossed the room to Stan’s bed to check on him. His eyes, normally tightly shut from suppressing intense pain, were gently closed. The ever present grimace of defiance on his lips was replaced by a hallowed, peaceful smile. Linda quietly mourned her husband. Fr. Michael was once again called in to perform his clerical duties. Only Linda and two grave-diggers from Lang’ata Cemetery attended the funeral. She watched unseeing as the grave-diggers covered the plain wooden casket with soil. She watched pensively as spade-full after spade-full of soil weighed upon her beloved Stan. She watched until the last heap of soil was laid on the mound of earth that was Stan’s grave. As the grave-diggers shouldered their spades and left, Linda mulled over her dreary future. In front of her lay her whole life, six feet under. In the midst of her stark despondency, Linda smiled as a thought occurred to her. Although she had no family, no friends and no future to look forward to, Linda realized she always had something else all along: love. The love between her and Stan was the highlight of her otherwise non-existent life. And even though he was now dead, Linda knew that the memory of their unwavering love would dwell in her heart all the days of her life. And on his head stone was carved the simple epitaph: Here lies Stan the love of my life.

THE END