English Extension Creative Writing

The Melancholy for Adelaide Heights

By Timon Tan

Sometimes the best weapon is love. That was what my mama always told me. She said that if any conflict had to be won, love was the way to go. I recall her telling me that since I was very young, when I still laid in the crib and where mama look over me, reminded me that she loves me, and kisses me just before I sleep. That is my fondest memory of her; her soft-hearted voice and the touch of the hand that warmed me.

That now is the distant past, a warm reminiscence recalled in times of my unhappiness, when comfort I need. She’s gone now, for over a year now, her ashes in the jar.

Daddy is the only family I have. I’m his only daughter, the rest of his relatives are dead. He’s a large man, almost a giant I’d say, maybe because I’m still quite small. He’s quite gruff, with a stern and flawed face at all times. But he is also at times an angry man. Sometimes he would shout at me, other times when he comes home drunk, he would hit me. I would endure it. I think it’s because he is very lonely without mama around, and that sometimes he needs someone to release his anger on. Every Sunday at church, I would pray for him, that he may become a happier man.

We live at our house near the forest edge. Daddy is a woodcutter, and every morning, he would go to the wood to get lumber. He would return at early evening without fail, and on Saturdays, go to the markets in town, to sell his lumber. When he is out, he leaves me to do the housework such as cleaning and cooking. It often takes me most of the day, leaving me exhausted at night.

Many of you may claim that it is not fair, you see daddy says that he works very hard and that he needs to rest when he comes home. I have no argument against that, after all, I cannot even lift the axe that he uses often. He provides all the money too, that which I do not have, and I am really grateful to him for that.

If I have any free time, which I rarely do, I love to read, because it is the most enjoyable activity that I may do. I don’t have many toys to play or other children that I may socialize with as my nearest neighbour is over an hour walk away…

But still you may ask, do I enjoy my life? I do! I mean is it not better than the overcrowded factories that they so meanly describe of in cities, the forced labour and the certainty of uncertainty. If there’s one thing that I’m really grateful for is that my daddy’s still here with me…at least I still have part of my family. And though daddy may not act like he truly loves me…I still love him…

#

It was a certain night that daddy came back weak and weary. It was a little later than usual, after the sun had already set, much to my worry. I barely remember the proceedings of before, the same ritual of cooking and preparation, but certainly etched was the remembrance of daddy walking through the door way, with blood in his hands…

#

A bucket of water, red of the blood of daddy’s, the tower that I hold too, initially cleaned white, now red. It was the result of a pierce to his breast, a stab wound from some sharp object that I could not comprehend. A knife in shape it was, yet it could not have been. It did not shine like a metal would, wholly brown in colour, and as I rubbed my hand against the blunt edge, it crumbled to dust, brittle it is. Its resultant was daddy.

I began to cut away his shirt, about the portion where he was stabbed. In my mind, comprehending who would have done such a thing. Never had I heard any attackers about this place, nor had there been in many years. Who would want to do such a thing? Daddy is not rich. What motive could there be?

I had seen many things in my childhood, injuries, dangerous animals, blood and likes. My father thought best not to shelter me. But what I saw then was nothing I had seen before.

The area perforating his breast was black, utterly black. His skin, flesh, even the blood had turned black, spreading across like tar. Every second, as his chest would rise and fall from breath, and more blood would squirt out. I poured water from the jar over his wound to wash it away.

Instantly he buckled, his eyes shot out in pain, arms flailing about, legs kicking the edge of the bed.

“Daddy! Daddy!” I cried as I grabbed onto him. “Please don’t die!”

He threw many more times before rest, knocking me against the frame of the bed, still I held on. I couldn’t let him go…not now, not ever. That was when, even though standing at the gates of hades, he reached out to comfort me, his arm stroking my head.

“Adelaide…” He whispered before succumbing to the pain.

#

Grabbing my coat, lamp and knife, I ran out into the darkness of night. Daddy would not last through the night, I was certain of that. He needed aid now, and to the family doctor I ran.

I ran and I ran. There was no end, the darkness seemed eternal. Despite a full moon, I could see no further than a few metres of the path ahead. Around me, the forest looked different to that of day. With the dead of night, the silhouette of the trees towered over me, like it had grew with darkness. I dared not look towards it, with each thin branch of tree casting shadows of random arms, eerily resembling that of the dead. I recalled the forest during the day to my mind, where the stripped trees and fair branches often devoid of leaves brought back normality.

Whether it was wisdom or folly I did not know, with the threat of an attacker did I not consider when attempting this, but only the thought of daddy in mind. It was not that I could not bare living without him, nor was it the fear of being orphaned. It is because with my heart that I love him, that I treasure him infinitely, and even though he may not requite it, that it is all the more being reason for me to love him.

#

Along solid pavement I ran, into bogged mud I ran, through the shadows of the night, under the stingy ray of moonlight, pass the sole lamp stand that lit the way and with abide to the ache and pain that plagued my chest and legs. Despite that, with sole will and grace from God, I made my way. I passed the familiar gray lantern that hung at the dimly lit cross-section signpost, I had made it halfway. The forest here was thin leading out to farmlands, open fields and pavement. And as I stood a moment to catch my breath, it was then that I met him.

He popped up from behind, as oblivion took me for a second. I remember feeling the chilliness as he placed his palm on my shoulder, one that reverberated through my spine.

“Hullo,” he said.

I acted in natural instinct, pushing him aside and wielded my knife in hand. I was not to take any chances, being this late out at night and with the possibly of my daddy’s attacker still around.

Standing there, beside the post where I earlier leaned on was a boy. He was as young as me, skin overly paler, but absolutely flawless. He was no taller, nor was he any larger in size. He looked like any average eight year old boy would be, however holding a hollow look in his eyes.

“Hullo” he said again.

For reasons beyond my comprehension, I found myself unable to reply. I was rooted to the ground, unable to move, only allowed to breathe.

“You’re Adelaide Heights are you not? Can you not speak?” How did he know my name?

Slowly but surely, the words from my mouth formed…stuttering: “Ye….yes I am…how….how did…how did you know my name?”

He formed a crude smile upon hearing that, one that I did not particularly like.

“Your father told me.” He said simply.

I found myself unable to breathe…who was he? How did he know daddy? What is he doing here in the middle of the night? Did he know about daddy’s injuries?

“I can tell by the look on your face that you’re rather disturbed. Tell me why.”

I would have kept the details of the happenings to myself, for it was not good to speak of these things to strangers. But by some unknown force was I compelled to spit it all out.

On my knees I related to him all that had happened, daddy being late, the blood, the wound…the weapon…even my fears and feelings, that that I was doing.

“I see.” He said, after hearing it all, strolling about the lamp post. It was then that I realised something strange, even though against the lit lamp, he had no shadow cast to the ground. All that while I was kept to a kneeling position on the ground, I wanted to get up, I had to get to the doctor…to save daddy…

“Please kind sir! I really need to be going. Please let me go!” I pleaded, my head bowed to the ground.

He crafted the same smile again, “I can’t. You see your father needs to die. And I will not allow you to aid to save him in any way,” and as he said so, did his smile turned cruel, a cruel smile that I never forgot.

#

The day when daddy gave me little lilly, it was the one of the happiest days of my life. She was and is my only stuffed-toy to this date. It was a rare moment of love and affection that daddy showed towards me. Though it was a day of poor sales, daddy had remembered the wish I told him the night before.

“What do you wish for Adelaide?”

“I wish for mama to be here.”

I still do not know what caused him to do so, but he still did it anyway. He curved the most patient and loving smile I had ever seen, one as loving as mama’s.

“I’m sorry Adelaide. You know daddy cannot give you mama back…she’s gone now, in heaven with Jesus and all the angels.”

I sometimes wished I was with her in heaven. But daddy says no. He says he too needed me here. He wanted me here, to be with him.

“Well I’m going to be in town tomorrow, how about something from there?” He said.

My mind recalled to the other week where I was with daddy at the markets. I recalled seeing through the glass screen little lilly, priced at a fortune.

“Well…she’s quite expensive. But I do what I can.”

“Thanks daddy…its all right if you can’t get her.”

“No Adelaide. It’s all right. Daddy wants to do this.”

#

“I can’t. You see your father needs to die. And I will not allow you to aid to save him in any way.”

Only a single word came to my mouth when he said that: “No.”

He grinned at what I said, replying “Oh yes. You see, your father has angered me. Oh if I can only divulge to you what he did to me, you would feel the same.”

It was at that moment did I only managed to uproot myself from the ground. I was fuelled with fury that originates from that of love, banishing whatever magic he used: “NEVER! No matter what my daddy does, I will never want him dead! I love him! And I will not let anything change that!”

“Are you so sure? What if I told you that he murdered me?” He replied.

It hit me like a brick wall. No! Daddy was no murderer. He could never murder, not my daddy, never! Yet inside, I just could not not* believe.

“What’s your name,” It was all I could say.

“My name?” He changed his grin into a smirk, his dark piercing eyes drilling straight into my mind, “Jonathan Heights, your brother.”

#####

To be continued...