The team is debuting a peice written by Fatma Lootah titled The Search For Paradise for the theme “Memories”. We hope you enjoy it ^^

I knew what I’d done as soon as the door closed. I’ve not only lost my father but my mother too. I had to do it. I had to let it all out. They never actually appreciated anything I’ve done for them. Not one thing. “Wasn’t this what you wanted? To go and live you life? And look for your paradise?” I utter to myself. Of course this is what I wanted, truth be told this is what I’ve dreamed of my whole life. Right through my teenage years I’ve read a fair amount of books and lived a million fairy tales, cherishing every minute of it. However that doesn’t mean that  I’m gonna live a divine life bursting with glee, not to mention that I’m currently living in a inferno.

A frosty breeze smacks me to reality. As I position myself ahead of my car window gazing at my reflection, all I see is a 16 year old young lady with fair tan hair set downwards to her shoulders in unbroken sheets. With a tawny face that has beautiful features. My name is Sarah Brown.

I dig through my sizable shoulder bag looking for my keys when I catch sight of them on the ground adjacent to the car. I must have lost my grip on them when I shut the car door. I aggressively open the door dismissing the fact that I might jerk the whole thing off. I sit on the drivers seat and a moan escapes my lips. “What am I going to do?” I say. “Where will I go? Come on Sarah THINK!” I’m not a good thinker I insist. I lack at everything! I don’t even know how to drive this thing. I’m useless. I’ve always been useless. I start the engine and slam the door shut.

I start driving towards a place I’ve known far back when I was a kid. A place I know that will bring life back into me. A place I love. Thoughts start to whizz around my head as to what happened earlier in the day and I shake my head in attempt to clear things out. I just realized that I have a tendency of day dreaming a lot. Of what might happen or what if that happened or every so often making up scenarios just to cheer myself up. I’ve always imagined my self flawless since I’m the total opposite. I’m filled with flaws. From top to bottom. At least thats what my parents used to tell me. I’m always called arrogant and mean. Well if I have a mean spirit I must have gotten that from my parents, obviously.

As a couple of kids pass by my car, I flash back to the days where nothing mattered to me except my barbie doll. My broken barbie doll. They never bought me new toys claiming that my rudeness led to this. They never liked me, maybe its because I was supposed to be a boy. I have three elder sisters that I haven’t seen for more than a couple of years now. They’re probably somewhere around the world if they’re not dead already. I guess I’m quite mean.

As the thoughts twirl in my creative world I hear a powerful ear-piercing scream which makes me grasp on whats proceeding around me. I hit the brake pedal and thats when I see my life making its way before my eyes. The last thing I remember was the face of that alluring little boy that darted in front of me. I’m supposed to be dead I say to myself. I don’t deserve to live. I’ve killed an innocent boy due to my lack of responsibility. The thought of committing suicide has bolted in my head a few times. I’m waiting for the right time come.

                              *       *        *

Countless days pass by and the image of the boys face never seems to escape my mind what so ever. He haunts me in my dreams. I wake up every night screaming my head off saying “Sorry” hoping that he’ll forgive me. The agony and pain I’ve been through is unbearable. I’ve been in bed for days crying till my eyes dried out. I’m no use to the world. Everything I do leads to a chain of dreadful things. I pull my blanket and throw my skinny feet on the ground racing towards my balcony. I unlock the door and hold on to the rail. Looking downwards I see people heading to work and children on their way to school. Its going to hurt, I tell my self. I guess after all I’m not going to find my paradise here on earth, unless I die. I spread both my hands to my sides hugging the air. I take one last breath and thats when I drop my self to the dark hole that will somehow guide me to my paradise.

Author: Fatma Lootah