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Literature Text
Anger, hatred. All the negative thoughts flooded Tracy's mind as she stood, trembling in front of the dismembered, disfigured body of the domestic helper who had once lived and served her. Tracy gritted her teeth furiously and spat on the body with disdain, almost furious to the point of beating up the already battered corpse.
A few hours ago, the maid had jumped out of their 30-storey flat with Tracy's little two year old boy, and Tracy had received a frantic call from her neighbor when she was still busy at work. She had rushed over in a taxi, mixed feelings coarsed through her veins, frustrated and in tears as she sat on the torn leather seats, to see whether her little boy was alright. Fortunately, she found out that her son had gotten away unscathed, while the Filipino maid had plummeted to her death. The maid's head and back were crushed completely from the impact of the fall, and it was a gruesome sight to most people, but not to Tracy.
Stupid woman, just because my son has a better life than hers, she had to drag him down to his death! Thoughts bombarded her furious mind, and she clenched her fists tightly, her mind constantly wandering towards her son. She presumed that Suna, the domestic helper, was jealous because of the way Tracy's son was treated, with love and care and was given the greatest of gifts and toys, and that she had been planning this attack on her son all along.
The day before the incident, Tracy had found Suna looking tenderly at a picture of her own son, weeping bitterly. She had found out that her son contracted a terminal disease, yet she could not be there with him. "My poor baby... Why? Why must this happen to you?" She caressed the picture lovingly and sadly, her face pressed onto the thin glass, and her tears spreading on the bed like a wildfire in a desert bush. She was distraught to the point of madness. Almost oblivious to this tragic news, Tracy had shouted at Suna angrily, "You lazy pig! Loafing off again? WHAT are you doing? Get back to work! I'm not paying you for nothing!" She stomped right in front of Suna and grabbed the picture, smashing it onto the ground with such force that the picture broke into a thousand pieces that slid across the floor. Straight after, Tracy used her foot, protected with an expensive Jimmy Choo high-heeled shoe, and stamped on it to make sure that the picture would never be looked at again. It was like something in Suna snapped. She stood there, as if she had just seen a great white shark, staring blankly with hate at Tracy. With a shout, she ran out crying even more, her tears staining the front of her clothes with hatred for her employer.
Lazy brat, she deserved to die. Tracy thought to herself as she looked away from the corpse, snorted arrogantly, and walked off as if nothing had happened.
The police were in Tracy's flat. They observed the scene, obviously interested, and noticed a small, plastic chair near the window sill. It laid on its left side, as if someone had knocked it over with force. Was this where Suna had jumped from the window? The policemen wondered, and started scribbling notes with cheap ball-point pens and taking pictures of the scene with an equally cheap digital camera. A string dangled precariously over the top of the window sill, and it seemed to be connected to a little red balloon. It confused the policemen greatly, how a balloon managed to fly to such a place. It was weirdly wedged between an air-condition machine and the window sill. The policemen took notice of this strange sight as well, and scribbled down more notes as the rest of them searched the area for possible signs of a struggle. Tracy had told the policemen that Suna was especially fond of her little boy, and she simply could not understand why the maid had brought the little boy to his death sentence. In fact, Suna loved the little boy just like her own son.
What Tracy did not know, though, was the fact that Suna had saved her beloved son's life. And had died trying.
A few seconds before she fell to her death, Suna had walked over to the main living room where Tracy's son played regularly. The little boy of two years old, was standing on the tiny plastic stool that was placed next to the window, so that he could look out of the window while playing. When Suna walked closer, the boy had spotted the string dangling from the top of the window sill, and was already standing on the plastic chair in order to get a little look. As soon as he saw that the string led to a red balloon, he screamed with delight and immediately tried to stand on the window sill, making his hands in a grabbing motion at the string. Suna gasped with horror, realising that the boy could fall from the 30-storey flat and to his death. She rushed over, frantic, and grabbed the little boy, but unfortunately, they both fell over the ledge.
Suna screamed, closing her eyes tightly. She could see the little boy floating in mid-air right above her, and for a second, thought of her own son. This boy was as good as her own son; She had treated him well, or even better than her own, and she could not bear to lose him. Her heart ached, knowing that she herself would perish. But why take the boy she loved so much with her? She reached out her hands, and grabbed him into an embrace. Well, even if I can't save my own son, at least I can save him. She wailed as the tears streamed from her face and flew upwards in a straight line. She whispered in his ear her last words, before hitting the ground with a loud crack, ending her life forever.
These were her last words: "Farewell, my child. May you have a blessed life. Tell your mother, that I loved you like my son. Like my own son. I only stayed on because of you." And Tracy's son never forgot it.
A few hours ago, the maid had jumped out of their 30-storey flat with Tracy's little two year old boy, and Tracy had received a frantic call from her neighbor when she was still busy at work. She had rushed over in a taxi, mixed feelings coarsed through her veins, frustrated and in tears as she sat on the torn leather seats, to see whether her little boy was alright. Fortunately, she found out that her son had gotten away unscathed, while the Filipino maid had plummeted to her death. The maid's head and back were crushed completely from the impact of the fall, and it was a gruesome sight to most people, but not to Tracy.
Stupid woman, just because my son has a better life than hers, she had to drag him down to his death! Thoughts bombarded her furious mind, and she clenched her fists tightly, her mind constantly wandering towards her son. She presumed that Suna, the domestic helper, was jealous because of the way Tracy's son was treated, with love and care and was given the greatest of gifts and toys, and that she had been planning this attack on her son all along.
The day before the incident, Tracy had found Suna looking tenderly at a picture of her own son, weeping bitterly. She had found out that her son contracted a terminal disease, yet she could not be there with him. "My poor baby... Why? Why must this happen to you?" She caressed the picture lovingly and sadly, her face pressed onto the thin glass, and her tears spreading on the bed like a wildfire in a desert bush. She was distraught to the point of madness. Almost oblivious to this tragic news, Tracy had shouted at Suna angrily, "You lazy pig! Loafing off again? WHAT are you doing? Get back to work! I'm not paying you for nothing!" She stomped right in front of Suna and grabbed the picture, smashing it onto the ground with such force that the picture broke into a thousand pieces that slid across the floor. Straight after, Tracy used her foot, protected with an expensive Jimmy Choo high-heeled shoe, and stamped on it to make sure that the picture would never be looked at again. It was like something in Suna snapped. She stood there, as if she had just seen a great white shark, staring blankly with hate at Tracy. With a shout, she ran out crying even more, her tears staining the front of her clothes with hatred for her employer.
Lazy brat, she deserved to die. Tracy thought to herself as she looked away from the corpse, snorted arrogantly, and walked off as if nothing had happened.
The police were in Tracy's flat. They observed the scene, obviously interested, and noticed a small, plastic chair near the window sill. It laid on its left side, as if someone had knocked it over with force. Was this where Suna had jumped from the window? The policemen wondered, and started scribbling notes with cheap ball-point pens and taking pictures of the scene with an equally cheap digital camera. A string dangled precariously over the top of the window sill, and it seemed to be connected to a little red balloon. It confused the policemen greatly, how a balloon managed to fly to such a place. It was weirdly wedged between an air-condition machine and the window sill. The policemen took notice of this strange sight as well, and scribbled down more notes as the rest of them searched the area for possible signs of a struggle. Tracy had told the policemen that Suna was especially fond of her little boy, and she simply could not understand why the maid had brought the little boy to his death sentence. In fact, Suna loved the little boy just like her own son.
What Tracy did not know, though, was the fact that Suna had saved her beloved son's life. And had died trying.
A few seconds before she fell to her death, Suna had walked over to the main living room where Tracy's son played regularly. The little boy of two years old, was standing on the tiny plastic stool that was placed next to the window, so that he could look out of the window while playing. When Suna walked closer, the boy had spotted the string dangling from the top of the window sill, and was already standing on the plastic chair in order to get a little look. As soon as he saw that the string led to a red balloon, he screamed with delight and immediately tried to stand on the window sill, making his hands in a grabbing motion at the string. Suna gasped with horror, realising that the boy could fall from the 30-storey flat and to his death. She rushed over, frantic, and grabbed the little boy, but unfortunately, they both fell over the ledge.
Suna screamed, closing her eyes tightly. She could see the little boy floating in mid-air right above her, and for a second, thought of her own son. This boy was as good as her own son; She had treated him well, or even better than her own, and she could not bear to lose him. Her heart ached, knowing that she herself would perish. But why take the boy she loved so much with her? She reached out her hands, and grabbed him into an embrace. Well, even if I can't save my own son, at least I can save him. She wailed as the tears streamed from her face and flew upwards in a straight line. She whispered in his ear her last words, before hitting the ground with a loud crack, ending her life forever.
These were her last words: "Farewell, my child. May you have a blessed life. Tell your mother, that I loved you like my son. Like my own son. I only stayed on because of you." And Tracy's son never forgot it.
Private collection, please do not unlock
private drawings such as sketches, portraits and various handmade drawings. Due to the fact that it is not possible to hide folders, I decided to use this form of collecting my works
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A short story inspired by an unseen literature text I analysed today at school.
Click the AA button at the top of the window to make it bigger so you don't have to actually squint your eyes to read my story c:
Click the AA button at the top of the window to make it bigger so you don't have to actually squint your eyes to read my story c:
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