The Blessed

I was now a freshman at the Catholic University of Zimbabwe, and I was pursuing my dream degree, English literature. I knew no one from high school, so I had no ties to the past, which meant that it couldn't repeat itself.

My heart rate was abnormal. But that wasn't because of the heat. It was because of the girl seated to my left, Bethany. Every time I saw her, the butterflies in my stomach would take aggressive flight. Nothing else in the world mattered. In short, I loved her, and today was the day that she would know that.

As soon as the lecturer left the room, I rose from my seat. My knees nearly gave out on me, but I soldiered on. The chatter that filled the room became indistinct. It's at that time that I noticed that you could hear yourself breathing if you're scared enough.

“Be-Beth.”

She was so absorbed by a funny video of a dog trying to cross a bridge with a log in its mouth. But I was standing right next to her.

Is she ignoring me? Is this a sign from God to abort the mission?

“Hey, Beth!” I said louder than was necessary, judging by the surprised look on her face.

“Uhm, hey David. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah totally, talk about a boring lecture, huh?”

“OMG, that was literally the hardest battle I've had with sleep ever.”

I laughed at that. I always laughed at her jokes, which weren't always funny. But, but she was beautiful so she didn't need to be funny. She just had to be the love of my life.

“I was wondering if we could like, talk.” I said.

“Sure.”

The lecture room was still brimming with people, which didn't make it conducive for a proposal.

“Can we go outside? It's noisy in here.”

“Uhm, okay. Must be serious.”

We exited the room.

"So wassup?"

For as long as I can remember, I was never able to look at a person straight in the eye. Female and male.

“Bethany”, I cleared my throat, “Beth. We've been friends for a couple of months now. And…well. I don't know how to say this, but you're a really pretty girl. In fact, pretty is an understatement. But besides that, you're kind and smart and caring, and I...”

“Oh no…” she interjected.

“What?”

“You're not about to ask me out are you?” she said with her hands held up.

“Yeah, I mean, yes.”

“David, noooo”, she whined, "Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“This! making things awkward.”

“But I thought we were getting along really well.”

“Yeah, as friends.”

She lightly placed her hand on top of mine. It was soft. Wish I could say the same about the words that followed.

“David. You're a really nice guy. You're funny and kinda cool. I'm sure some girl out there would be lucky to have you. But...”

“But?”

“I'm not that girl, I'm sorry.”

“Oh...” was all I managed to say

“Are you okay?” asked Bethany.

“Me? Oh yeah. Why wouldn't I be okay?”

I topped it off with a chuckle, just in case my words betrayed the pain in my heart.

“Great!” she exclaimed, “Now come and give me those movies you promised me.”

“Yeah, sure.”

After giving her the entire Matrix collection, I packed my stuff and headed out.

When I got home, I crashed onto my bed, satchel still on. I stared at the ceiling and thought to myself as I drifted to sleep involuntarily.

***

That night I had a dream…

I am walking through a vast desert. But the sand is different. I bend down and take a handful of it. Its more cream than brown. And the granules are crystalline, like a million bits of shattered crystal.

A voice calls me.

“Hey!”

In the distance before me is a silhouette. A hunched over dark figure in the middle of this lifeless expanse.

I can tell by the texture of the voice that it belongs to a man.

I trek towards the man. The closer I get the more his features become visible.

He is wearing a tattered and weathered coat, a cowboy like hat, a yellowed cotton shirt, ripped brown pants and brown knee-length boots.

But what stands out most are the chains that are tightly wound around his body. The ends of the chains run firmly into the surrounding ground.

The figures head is hung.

From his neck hangs a silver chain with a pendant of the same colour. I take a longer look at the symbol on it…It looks like a stick-figure axe.

I approach him gingerly.

I hesitate, but as soon as I place my hand on his shoulder, he jerks his neck and looks up.

It is a skull with crimson red flames in its eye sockets. Red smoke escapes from its mouth as it speaks.

“It is time, my son.”

***

I was awakened by my mother's call for supper. It seems like I had fallen asleep at some point. It was Sadza and beans. The meal was not filling nor fulfilling. I didn't know when I had turned into my father, but I had grown fed up with my mother's cooking.

I barely heard what she was saying. Something about my aunt not feeling well or whatever. I only gave her mumbles for responses, too much on my mind to actually listen. 

My mother offered me scones and tea, and I declined, blaming a non-existent stomach ache. I went to my room and tried to do an assignment we had been given for my Phonetics and Phonology course. I was so unconcentrated that I heard my brother's footsteps well before he reached my window.

“Yo.”

I kept quiet, hoping that he would think that I was in the toilet or asleep and go away.

“You in there?”

“Yeah.”

“Come through.”

“I'm not feeling well.”

“Oh,” he said, “Tomorrow then?”

“Yeah.”

It took me a while to get any semblance of sleep. Night time was always the worst for me.