18 Till I Die
When you are plummeting down at break neck speed and you know you are about to die, they say your whole life runs like a movie in front of your eyes. Well, it did. All the 17 years did.
The day when I pulled a guy’s head off his neck and was dancing around. The people around me terrified by the sight of it and me enjoying that terror.
The trees that I uprooted and the families that I squished under my legs!
The family whom I was constantly watching and one fine day was able to steal what they were depending on their bread for, on a Christmas eve when they were jingling bells.
The day I killed the 3 guys and kidnapped those wonderful girls thinking to make them my wives but then hanged them by their hair when they disagreed.
The funny part is I do not repent doing any of this. Even now when I am tumbling down hit by debris which feels like just flakes kissing my rough skin in a snowstorm.
But the part that I am pissed off with, is that I failed to recognize that death was a coming. I missed the warning. I slept over it. And now here I am, falling…falling to my death.
The day she said I was mistaken, I should’ve got the clue. But I didn’t. And it was a huge price to pay. I had smelled it. I was just a few yards away from catching him!
It’s funny that I turned 18 today. I was about to celebrate it with her. The Turkey and the Cake must still be on the table waiting to be eaten. The cake’s candle flame must still be glowing unless her tear drops had turned it into a whiff of smoke.
Yes, right before the party was about to begin, my 18th birthday party, that’s when I found the harp missing. And then the Goose. I ran…ran after the unmistakable smell of an Englishman. The same smell I sniffed a few days ago. That’s what she dismissed saying I was mistaken. She had the heart of a mother already. I am sure she will raise a god kid someday.
But for now I am dying. This 18 Year old giant who will be remembered for all his deeds. Good for some… bad for those who didn’t like it. What’s good for one is bad for another! That’s what it is…isn’t it. They all despised me. Well I won’t blame them. At least it built my reputation you see.
I saw the Englishman in the garden. He was afraid. He was closing his eyes with his hands. The house was small. It was a petty hut. I could see the Goose walk past him. The harp lay happily on the entrance of his hut. If only I had a chance….not that I have!
And there was this lady, carrying a huge axe on her shoulder, smiling and satisfied. She had cut the beanstalk. And here I was plummeting to my death. I could hear her shouting….’Jack! Hey Jack! Open your eyes. I have cut the beanstalk. There he comes down to bite the dust. See Jack…see ‘Blunderbore’ vanish forever. All our problems vanish forever.
Little did she know that neither the goose nor the harp would work without my command and well…they would continue to fight their battle for their daily grub!
18 till I die…