Moving On

I look down onto my grieving family. I see my mum clutch her chest as if she was in immense pain, and I see the tears rush down her cheek. I watch my father let a tear go as he tries desperately to console my mother. I watch my brother sit down and numbly stare at my coffin trying to hide his sadness.

I take a deep breath and open my eyes. I see perfect willow trees, and beautiful flowers. I hear the birds sing their beautiful songs, and I can smell the crisp sense of spring time. It seems like such a colourful compared to the dark place my family are in. They are in a dull church which is surrounded by a grey graveyard. It's ironic that to grieve for my death they have to go to the home of death.

Slowly, reluctantly I close my eyes again. The priest slowly says a sermon as he tries to describe my short life. My mother's petite frame seems so much smaller as she is doubled over. The priest talks of my death briefly but continues to remind his small audience that it is a celebration of my life. My brother seems so distant, so unaware of what is going on. He breathes deep breaths and places his head in his hands. I haven't seen him like that before, so numb and so sad. My father sits between my brother and my mother, and bursts in to tears reluctantly.

I hate that I look down on them, see their grief, their pain. I am up in this new world but so far away from the real world. This place was meant to be heaven; that is what I truly believed. Somehow the beauty and the calmness doesn't make this place pleasant. I feel like I am in hell because I see and hear my family but they can't see or hear me. All I want to do is tell my mother that it is going to be okay, I want to tell my brother that I loved him even though we fought, and I want to tell my father that it is okay to cry. I just want to console them, tell that everything will be okay.

How is watching my family suffer a good thing? My mother prayed the other night, she asked god to let him give her the chance to say goodbye to me. I can hear her goodbyes but she doesn't know that. Her prays might be coming true but it doesn't matter because she doesn't know that they are.

I wish she could see me here. That would make her smile. I can tell when she is really happy because her bright blue eyes look like they are smiling too. Her straight, jet black hair makes a stunning contrast to her pale face; when she is happy she looks so beautiful, stunning but when she is sad though she looks lifeless. I have her blue eyes, her pale skin and her dark hair, but instead of it being straight I got my father's curls. My brother is exactly like my father; deep brown eyes, and black curly hair.

My mum would love this place. It is so perfect. Everything is laid out beautifully. It is like it was made for my family. It has her favourite flowers, daisies and it has a football oval for my father. My brother would love the sparkling pool and I love the animals that roam around. There are rolling mountains and picturesque views that seem to go on forever. If I wasn't so scared for my family I would love it here.

I say that I am scared for my family because I am afraid that very soon they too will end up here. I was murdered and dumped in a lake. It was a brutal murder but it didn't hurt all that much. When the knife first punctured the middle of my chest I doubled over anticipating a tremendous amount of pain but it didn't come. I knew that my life was slipping away with every drop of blood. I knew that I was going to die at someone else's hand. I felt the second blow more than the first. This time the knife entered just below my left ribcage. The third, fourth and fifth blows were so shallow compared to the two first ones, they felt like someone merely scratched me.

My murderer laid my dead, slumped body in a lake. A beautiful lake actually, it had an amazing light blue colour, and the water was so still. The lake was quite big. My murderer actually had to swim into the middle of the lake to dump my body. He tied me roughly to an underground plant so I wouldn't float away. He laid me so my arms and legs were wide apart. My blood died the water a deep, rich red colour. It looked so disgusting, so brutal. It was meant to assault the eyes, and haunt whoever looked upon my limp body forever.

I gaze upon the amazing pool that is in this world. I didn't want to look at it when I first arrived but I have the need to swim in it now. I need to prove to the person who murdered me that they didn't murder my spirit. My toe jerks when it feels the freezing cold water. I curl my toes into the grainy sand on the bottom of the pool. I jump in to the water and swim effortlessly.

It felt so good. I felt so proud like I had overcome my murderer. I smiled for the first time since I arrived in this new world. And then all of a sudden I started to vanish. I panicked at first but then I just embraced it. I knew that I was letting go of my death and moving on. Somehow I knew that letting go was a good thing.

As I was vanishing I closed my eyes. My mother was smiling, laughing. Her beautiful eyes smiled too. They encouraged me to let go of the last pieces of me. I needed her permission to go. I smiled too, and then I just went.

BY Cassandra Hamill