The Search for Freedom

My feet brought me towards the door of the yellow-and-white painted house, then my right hand knocked on it while the other one held a sharp axe. There were many windows around the house, and drapes that could be seen outside. No garbage, not even a little dirt on the walls, though they were painted with dirt-pursued paint. Having that kind of house was so beautiful, simple, and peaceful, but why did the curse want to break the peace there? Didn't it know that the people there were not doing anything wrong, or maybe it was envious of what I had observed?

That was such a merciless curse. I knew it wouldn't show any sympathy because it only had a brain and didn't have a heart. It could kill everyone who was in its way, even a poor child, even a baby who was still inside his mother's stomach. It was sharper than any sword, heavier than any load, hotter than the sun and hell.

The owner of the house was probably sleeping at those hours because everything there seemed to be singing a lullaby. The sun-kissed was so warm, nobody wanted to face it. The foliage of the tall coconut trees was dancing in the cool, intermittent breeze.

Though no one opened the door, my hand wouldn't stop knocking. It knocked harder and harder until even my ears reported that they heard thunderclaps. Even with my eyes, I saw the house was shaking a bit because of the strong and continuous knocks.

My hand didn't feel tired as long as nobody was opening the door. It was absolutely certain of what it wanted to do. I hoped that nobody would open the door, whatever happened, or else they would meet Mr. Death.

I knew the house could not be easily destroyed because it was made of cement, stones, sand, and a few trees. There were two ways to enter if nobody opened the door: use the axe to break the door or the windows made of glass. The people who lived in that house seemed lucky because the curse didn't know any other way to enter. That dimwit's body was compressing itself against the door.

Gosh! The door suddenly cried out! I saw a woman wearing a plain white shirt striped with black and white pants that were striped with white. I didn't know what its color was or what it was striped with, because it had a balanced black and white color. There seemed to be a skin of a zebra in the movie (Madagascar). She was also wearing a pair of white slippers.

She had a high nose, red lips, thick brows, white skin, and long banded hair. Her attractive mauve eyes were just like mine. She was a little bit chubby, and we had the same height, but I knew that I could be taller than her. But it didn't matter anymore, because however tall we were, we could not avoid becoming shorter as we grew older.

I didn't care what that woman looked like or how tall she was. What I cared about was that she made the biggest mistake of her life when she opened the door. That was the last day she could see the world. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" She queried. "Are..."

She had not finished her words when, o my gosh! My hand cleaved her head with the sharp axe! It caused a big crack on her forehead or in her cheek. The woman died easily. But even though she had already bitten the dust, my hand would not stop striking her with the hatchet.

Perhaps it was so mad and irritated that the woman had not opened the door quickly enough, and that was the reason for the flogging. But whatever the reason it had, it was still wrong, merciless, evil, unlawful, and the most unpleasant sin in the whole wide world that I saw with my own two eyes.

My hands dragged the woman inside the house and she shut the wooden door. She looked so pitiable; my hands seemed to make her a wooden doll when they stroked her whole body. She received a lot of wounds everywhere: on her abdomen, chest, head, arms, shoulders, etc. The red liquid splashed and shed on the door. Minutes elapsed before my hand stopped striking the woman.

My body turned around. There was an upholstered couch inside, a television, a table, chairs made of polished wood, soft pillows, etcetera. The house only looked beautiful from the outside, but inside was a mess. Maybe it turned into a mess because there was no more space for anything, whereas in my mansion, anywhere you looked was spacious.

People were the same with that house: they looked good, kind, innocent, and beautiful when we looked outside, but I am sure that there were just a few people who were clean inside, and mostly a mess. Like me, but they could not judge me because it wasn't my mistake; it was the curse that messed me up. It messed up my whole life!

I thought that there was a family living in that house, but there was only a mess. Still walking towards the kitchen, the curse seemed to be searching for another victim. My hand also opened the empty cauldron. Maybe it was thinking that there was someone inside it. What a dimwit body. It went towards the cupboard and opened it, seeming to be searching for something, but did not know where or what it was.

After searching in the kitchen, we got out and checked the bathroom, but nobody was there, still holding the axe in our left hand. My feet brought me towards the other room, and my hand turned the knob.

The room was also a mess: there were many clothes, towels, blankets, etcetera, hanging on the clothesline. I saw a handsome man lying on an upholstered bed. He didn't have clothes on the upper portion of his body. Maybe he was the husband of the woman whom I killed a while ago.

My feet brought me inside the bedroom, and I locked the door. Maybe it was making everything sure so that if the man woke up, he could not escape whatever he would do.

Perhaps it was saying, "Don't worry, man, I'll help you meet your wife in hell or heaven."

I went towards the bed where the man was lying. He seemed to be in such a deep slumber that he didn't hear any sounds I made. He was wearing boxer shorts, and I could see his white shaggy legs. He had big muscles in his arms, abdomen, and chest that moved slightly up and down as he breathed.

He looked fit and well-stretched. He had a high nose, short hair, and a clean face. That handsome man seemed to not have or care about anything or any problems that came or might come.

What I could only do was to hope that he would have another chance to wake up from sleep. Everyone deserves to live a life and has a responsibility to take care of their lives. However, what else could I do to give him that chance if there was no other thing but to hope for the best, though it was hopeless?

Certainly, my hand was going to strike the man when he woke up and rolled himself on the bed to avoid the axe that wanted to pierce him. I screamed in my brain: "Don't hurt me!"

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I knew that I could not feel any pain because it was my body that made its moves and it was my body that could feel pain. Shouting was just my instinct. Maybe I could also feel the pain that it would cause if everything came back to its normal condition.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my house? Why do you want to kill me?" He panted with his curiosity.

What was the use of screaming if he could not hear me? I tried to scream many times, but nobody could hear me. He was an innocent man. It would be so unlawful if he just died without any clear reason. I knew he deserved an explanation, but how could I explain everything if I couldn't even say a word?NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

My hand tried to stroke him many times, but he avoided all of my attacks. He looked trained in fighting. He punched me many times, and I caught all of them. But however he would punch me, I couldn't feel any pain.

Until my hand became mad and vigorous. It did not stop striking the man with the glittering axe. Until it hit him in his abdomen, another strike on his foot, another strike on his arm, another strike on his chest, and he totally lay down on the floor.

He was full of blood streaming down from the wound on his abdomen, left foot, left arm, and right chest. The bed that was upholstered in white velvet had become reddish-white because of the blood from the body of the pitiable man. "Please don't... kill... me..." he stammered while imploring.

I could see from his face that he felt so much pain. He was so pitiable, but what could I do? My hand totally shut him up by striking his head with the glittering axe, which was then covered with blood.