It Was Silent

by Edna Ikpi

“I don’t believe death is the end, it’s just the part where silence gets a voice. Life is the ghost that haunts you for no reason.” I sighed. “I like death.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Mama scolded, fork halfway to her mouth, eyes bulging with fear.

My shoulders bounced in a shrug. “Okay.”

“Vina.” She dropped her fork and took my hand. “Life is beautiful, and precious, and full of wonderful, amazing things.”

She was trying to convince me. She had that look in her eyes that she always has when she was trying to implore you.

“Life is boring. I think it’s just a test that no one ever passes. There’s so much more freedom on the other side.”

“Where do you even get that?”

“Zach.”

“He doesn’t exist, honey. He’s only a figment of your own imagination.”

But she was wrong. Zach did exist; he was standing right behind me with his hands on my shoulders. He squeezed. I smiled.

The first time I met Zach, I was seven. He knocked my candle over, then immediately apologized.

“Oh jeez, didn’t mean to knock over your lamp there, eh. Sorry ‘bout that.”

I looked up from my place on the bed. “Who are you?”

His brown eyes scanned the place, his blue flannel flapping with the sudden wind. “Didn’t know they rented it out already.”

My eyes lit up. “You’re the boy that used to live here?”

He smiled. Nodded his beanie covered head. “Aye.”

We talked all night. He told me about his time in Canada, and how he loved the maples.

I asked him how he got into my room. He shrugged. “I’m a ghost.”

“Vina!” Mama’s voice snapped.

I flinched.

“You need to stop talking about dying, or else…”

I wanted to yell at her, to tell her that she didn’t know what she was missing; but I nodded.

Zach and I had a plan anyway. Today I was going to get my ticket to freedom.

I’d visit France, then Switzerland, Mexico, Italy. Just like Zach had been doing while I went to school.

“I never understand why people are so obsessed with staying alive.” Zach muttered.

Me neither. And we were the young ones. Don’t they feel like life is a punishment? Worse yet, for a sin we have no idea of.

Today was my seventeenth birthday. Mom left for work and I cleared the kitchen. I wouldn’t be able to after today.

As Zach and I walked to the river, the winds howled.

“They’re rejoicing.”

I looked at Zach. “Over what?”

“You breaking free.”

He gave me his hand. I took it. I climbed the bridge.

“Welcome home, Vina.”

I let go. The water grabbed onto me in a cold embrace.

But when I opened my eyes, Zach wasn’t there. There was only stillness and darkness.

He lied to me. Death wasn’t freedom.

It was silence.

━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
Edna is a recent graduate of linguistics and communication, and a lover of stories, language, music, and learning. The young female lives in Nigeria where she shares stories from the comfort of her bed, and helps others bring their own stories to life.