They were all gone.
Everyone. Was. Gone.
I feel as if I should cry, to mourn their deaths and their passing. To cry for the lives they had and the good that they had done. I should cry for the smallest of souls and for the oldest. But I no longer feel tears. Instead, I feel sad. Inside I feel destroyed, as if someone has just come by and with words, took my entire identity. But I do not feel the tears. I want to ask mother why. But mother was one of the first to go.
I remember the Sun Priests taking her and performing their procedures on her. They would take the most powerful of flowers and try to cure her. They would pray. They would even try to ask the spirit of the land. Nothing worked. And after a while, they forgot about her. I’m not mad at them though. I understand why they forgot about her. There were others who were sick, they needed help as well. And so mother was left alone. And we were told that we couldn’t see her. And so mother died alone.
Father died soon after. They said it was because of heartbreak, but I wasn’t the stupid child that they thought I was. I saw him spitting up blood that one day. He was hunched over and his entire body was sweating. It was scary to watch. He made me promise not to tell anyone about what I saw, but I did anyway. I was hoping they could help him. But when they got to him, he was dead. And I lost my parents.
And I lost everyone.
There was something about being the last one. It made me wonder why. I haven’t spit up blood yet. I haven’t hunched over in pain. My body did not start sweating. But I knew my time was coming. The only question was when. I had seen others. Others who thought they were safe, all because they were not sick. But then, out of nowhere, they began to show the same signs. Sometimes it took days, other times a matter of minutes. Some people died in matter of days, while others died weeks or maybe even a month later. The outcome? We all die.
There was no escaping it, I will die.
At one time, when it was silent, I thought if I should end my life. It is said that the Sun accepts a self-inflicted death, only if it is sacrificial. I did not know the words for the sacrifice, but the priests did. And the priest’s books were still around. I could read them and use them. I could do it.
At one point, I had gone to the temples. They looked the same, massive temples built for the Sun. They all were square with no roofs. Glass panes stood on each wall, allowing the light to gracefully reflect off of them. So when one was in prayer, they could feel the Sun’s touch. But they were no longer filled with joyous people and priests begging for silence. The priests would be so happy now, everything was quiet.
I stood in there, gripping the knife in my hands. The book was open in front of me with the words I was to speak. I remember my hands shaking and the words catching in my throat. I reminded myself that I could see everyone I loved. That I could be surrounded by love once again. There was no need for me to be here. I would soon die.
The silence. That was the worst part, especially during the night. During the day, I had the company of the Sun. The flutter bugs would whip around and the Sun Tailed Lions would roar in the distance. But at night, there was nothing. I was left alone with my thoughts. Not even the fire would crackle.
I would sleep, and try to imagine my family and friends. I would sleep, and try to relive some of the memories. But they all ended with me waking up to reality. I yearned for death but I was too afraid to do it myself. I was afraid to die. I didn’t want to leave this beautiful place we call home. But I didn’t want to be alone anymore. For just one day, I wanted everything to go back to normal.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
