Bohemian Rhapsody

Inspired by the song Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen

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1. Didn't Mean To Make You Cry

The gun shook violently in my hand. Sweat dripped off my forehead, and I wiped it off with a clammy hand. The wind blew ferociously around me, but I ignored it. My eyes were clamped shut, reliving the deafening shot of the gun and the adrenaline that had pumped through me as I watched the body fall gracefully to the cold, dank earth.

I opened my eyes, looking up to the dark skies, the moon covered in ominous grey clouds and let out a loud sigh. Lowering my eyesight, I caught sight of the limp, dead body lying on the woodland floor. Smiling slightly at the sight, I walked over and bent down so that I could get a better view of my achievements.

The face was pale, eyes wide in shock and the face still etched with the look of surprise. I ran my thin, bony fingers along the side of her cold, white face, brushing aside a stray hair that had blown over her face, and looked into the grey eyes I knew and loved.

"Mama..." I whispered, smiling down at her motionless form. "I'm sorry, Mama, but it had to be done. This is for the greater good. He cannot hurt you anymore." My mind flashed instantly to the nights of endless wailing and the long hours of torture, waiting in silence to see the damage that had been done to her.

I shook my head, trying to erase the images from my mind. It was over now. She could feel no more pain. I went to close her eyes, putting her at peace at last, when I noticed tear tracks staining her delicate rosy cheeks. "Oh, Mama, I didn't mean to make you cry. I did this for you, Mama, for us. Just you wait and see."

I got up off the damp earth, brushing off the dirt on my knees and fixing my ruffled shirt, I did not want to look unkempt: Mama had always taught me to look my best no matter what the occasion. Picking up the rusty spade that lay nearby, I began the long and laborious job of digging a grave, and it was not until hours later, when I heard the distinct sound of footsteps in the empty forest that I stopped digging.

My eyes darted up, alerted by the sudden sound, and I searched the darkness for a sign of the intruder.

I saw him. The silhouette of a man coming closer and closer; the sound of his feet on the leaves becoming louder and louder. I held my breath, praying that the blackness of the night would hide me from the stranger as I sat silently on the earth. Watching; waiting.

The man had almost passed my still body when a threatening beam of yellow torch light flickered into life, and then began its tantalisingly slow and treacherous journey towards me.

I could run. I could take my chances and head into the heart of the trees, but I could not leave Mama behind, not after all she had done for me. She deserved a proper burial, and so I sat patiently and waited.

Eventually, the yellow light rested on my face, blinding me momentarily and I heard the man gasp in horror as the light moved slightly to my left, illuminating the body that lay behind me.

 

The air became eerily still as he approached me, his breathing ragged and footsteps uneven. I shut my eyes, resting them, and allowed the sound of crunching leaves and branches to waft around me like a gentle breeze, lulling me into a state of calm.

 I had no idea of what to do when the man confronted me about my predicament, and yet I was calm, sure that some flash of brilliance would come to me when I needed it. Panicking would help no one, and anyway, I had done nothing wrong.

"Did you do this?" The man's voice was hoarse as he gestured to Mama's body with his torch.

I stared at him, at his slightly chubby face, his ruffled clothing and finally into his wide brown eyes, evaluating the threat. I was unafraid of the consequences of my actions: I knew what I had done was right. I had done what had needed to be done. Surely, this man could understand that?

"Did you do this?" He repeated the question, his voice becoming firmer and his stance gaining more confidence. If her had heard what I had heard, seen what I had seen, he would understand - he would not be asking stupid questions.

I nodded my head, not daring to break the eye contact.

A glint of silver appeared in the man’s hand, and I was slightly taken aback as he pointed the polished barrel of a gun at me: not many people had guns in this area, and this man, dressed in a tweed jacket and jeans, did not look like the kind to be carrying around a weapon.

I stood up, easing myself carefully off the damp earth, making certain not to make any sudden movements that may trigger the man to shoot. The man clasped both of his shaking hands firmly around the silver metal, his brow furrowed as he attempted to steady his nerves.

“Please,” I begged. “Just let me go, I’ve done nothing wrong. Let me go, and forget this ever happened. I just want to give Mama a proper burial that’s all.” I looked imploringly into the man’s eyes, trying to search for any ounce of compassion in him.

“No, I will not let you go.” The man’s voice was firm, forceful; he had made up his mind. “You killed that woman - you killed her and now you will deal with the consequences.”

The man took another cautious step towards me.

Suddenly, a bright flash of lighting hit the ground. The piecing white light illuminated the scene, emphasising the man’s gaunt features and creating a momentary white halo around Mama’s body.

A deafening roar of a gun followed the light, the noise echoing around my body. I looked at the man, curious as to what had happened, and to my surprise I found him wide eyed, mouth open and staring in horror at me.

Confused, I looked down, only to find thick red blood oozing out of my stomach. The pain hit me in a sudden surge, my knees giving way and sending my body crashing into the hard ground. The entry wound was on fire and every minuscule movement I made sent flashes of searing, hot pain through my body, creating unimaginable agony.

My breathing became slowed, the pain becoming numb as my short life came to its end.

Nothing mattered anymore.

My time had come.

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