Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Hamamako Scream



Since that fortunate day, she had never stopped crying, she did not have school and suffered the indignation of her teachers, but she suffered more than she bargained for, 70 years of inescapable discrimination. She cried and screamed, but everyone was doing the same.
She got infected by the black thing. No medicine can kill the black thing. No one can shake it off. One by one, they watched the black thing ate into them. Others who were lucky and was not within the range of the black thing despised them, ostracised them, like leprosy, they were thought to be contagious. The black thing created an imaginary boundary between those infected and those uninfected. 
She was sickened with this situation. Her scream had become muted. She still had nightmares. She saw people flaking off, jumped into the water, bled from their skin, coughed and vomited. One by one they went through hell to heaven. The pain on them was call burn. It burned for weeks. Hurt for a long long time. One by one people around her died, unnaturally. Her suspicion was confirmed; they found the black thing in her organ. She started to count her days. She was grateful each day when she could take a breath when she woke up in a new day. 
One day she decided to talk about the black disease and become a nuisance, but she felt the need to communicate her torment so that other people can stop creating this black thing. The prevention of the black thing is in the conscience of the decision makers, the movers, and shakers of today’s powerful nations.