Young Writers Society

Four days ago

As usual, Azhar hid under the bed when Faris came into the room. Next to him was a spooky yellow light with a very low humming voice. He wanted to yell when he saw it, but he knew better not too when Faris was around. Thank goodness Faris fell straight to the lower bed. If Azhar’s guess was correct, Faris came from the football gam. The bed bent slightly downward, almost pressing Azhar’s skinny body.

The cracking, loud snores started, then, and Azhar knew it would be difficult to awaken Faris at this point, given how he slept like a log. Azhar didn’t came out of the bed. Instead, he asked the light with unstructured voice: “A-are you re-real, or i-is this my mind playing wi-with me?” He was scared for sure, but at the same time he was intrigued by the appearance of it, and most of the times his intrigue won.

“I’m real,” the light said, a squeaky whisper, almost emulating his. “I think it’s better for you not to make any sound that would wake the bully. My recent observation’s enough to say he has unhealthy tendency to violence.”

How does it know that? Azhar wondered, but this was not the time for that. He considered what he should do. Well, he was safe right now - Faris would not disturb him any soon given how dead-like Faris was. And this light... he didn’t know what to do with it. The realization that there was floating light in the middle of the dark room that could talk scare him, but when it showcased its voice combined with its rather vibrant colour, it didn’t seem too scary. Harmless, in fact.

“Humans mistake us as harmless creatures because of our appearance,” it said like it could read his mind. Or maybe his face spelled his thought clearly.

“Let’s go to my bed,” he said in a whisper. Wow, I actually sounded brave.

He slowly crawled out of the musty, tight space, wearing a blue-stripped white pajama, courtesy of the orphanage staffs. Fresh air met his nose as he climbed to the upper bed, making sure every step landed at the right place slowly, careful not to awaken Faris. When he sat on it and turned around, the light was behind him already. He almost screamed as he didn’t anticipate it to appear that close.

He lied sideway on the bed, covering himself with a worn brown blanket for warmth out of the cool atmosphere and rested his head on the almost-flat pillow. He looked straight at the light that was floating in a subtle manner.

“What do you want from me?” he said.

Like other lights that came before it, Flaxen said the same thing: “Do you need my help?” It added, “I can grant you anything, but please, nothing harmful or dangerous. I prefer to end alive after fulfilling your wish.”

This light seems to like being dramatic, he thought. Then again, he always exaggerated stuffs, so he was no different than it. Should he be honest to it? Well, there was nothing to lose if he did, was there? He grabbed the blanket tighter.

“I just wish everything would turn back to the way there are,” he said. “If only Mum and Dad didn’t go to the volunteer program. If only they didn’t, as selfish as it sounds, help others so much. I want them to pay their attention to me again. We were always moving from one place to another. I want to tell them it needs to be stopped. I don’t want to stay here.” He realized a warm wetness flowing over his cheek, and he hated the fact that he cried too easily.

“A broken heart,” it said with a sad whisper. “No wonder I’m attracted to you. You resonate something familiar to me.”

He didn’t understand what did it mean, but he didn’t say anything. Silence between them hanged on the air like a clock freezing time. They both stayed still, letting Faris’ snores breaking the silence like a bad background music. He realized he finally said it. He finally told someone - something, in this case - about what was wrong. It felt good, letting this off his chest.

“Well,” it said, finally breaking the silence for sure, “it’s time for you to stop crying. Your parents won’t come back, sorry, but it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve happiness. You need to move on. Focus on something else. They would frown at you if they see you like this.” The sternness in its voice was undeniable - it reminded him to Mum.

He wiped his tears and attempted a smile. “It’s easier said than done. It’s only been a year since they died - I need to go through the wrecking ball phase.” He chuckled faintly on his own joke. The light didn’t get it.

“It’s okay, we have time more than a year to do that - starting by tomorrow. Right now, you need some sleep. Maybe you’ll find something that would make you happy later,” it said.

Azhar smiled, oblivious to what was going to happen, and closed his eyes. The presence of the light gave him a sense of having a company, and it was calming. He slept seconds after Faris snored.

Three days ago

Azhar opened his eyes as someone tugged his shirt. He felt the hard surface bearing his body, and realized after letting his hand roamed around it, that it was a floor. The morning was freezing like being in a refrigerator, and he looked up to see who was it that awoken him. It was Mrs. Ana, and she seemed to be worried.

He sat up, rubbing all over his body while trembling to give some warmth to it. He looked around; he was in the living room. Mrs. Ana kneeing in front of him with Faris standing who seemed to be anxious more than worried with him biting his lower lip. A few kids went to them - some yawning, some messing with their hairs - to see what had happened.

He needed to know what had happened too. “Why am I here?” He remembered about the light’s words the previous night, and had the slightest suspicion it was behind this. He wasn’t sure how yet.

Mrs. Ana grabbed his shoulders firmly. “My poor dear,” she said. She glanced at Faris with obvious anger. “You don’t have to keep acting like you don’t know what’s happening. Someone told me Faris forced you to sleep on the floor. They also said they heard screams coming from your room a while ago. I regret not knowing this earlier. We must’ve been thinking how horrible living in here.”

“I told you; I didn’t do anything,” Faris said, the anxiety apparent in his voice like a caught thief. If it was Azhar, he would sound angry rather than anxious when being accused to something he didn’t do. The anxiety Faris showed just made things worse.

A sudden anger like a boiling water rushed in Azhar’s body. Whatever the light did, he could use it to actually pay back what Faris had done to him. It was revenge, yes, but someone needed to teach that brat a lesson. He was glad if everyone else saw it - perhaps there would be no more bullying in this house.

“Yes, he did it,” he said, sounding sad. Tears came out from him easily. Good. Let’s make it as horrible as possible. “He forced me to sleep on the floor or else he would lock me in the bathroom. I didn’t want to - I’d told him clearly about that - but he kept dragging me, dragging me to here, and he kicked me until I fell down. He placed his foot on my head to keep me lying on the floor, all the while laughing. No one came; it was late at night.”

Faris looked at him with widened eyes. Azhar looked at him back with unblinking stare. Mrs. Ana stood up, breathing hard like was containing a mad anger in her. Faris looked at her and Azhar saw, then, the tremble that had possessed his body. He could see the damage was done. Faris would never look at him the same as before, and he would have the final laugh. This was what he needed to move on. Picking on the thorns that kept hurting him and throwing them aside to the river.