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THE RED WRATHLoading...
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By: Aanvi Trivedi
Fear of anger is similar to standing on the precipice of a steep cliff. Even if you are standing a good two feet away on a windless day, you would still be frightened of falling to the bottom. In moments when you find that another person, a person who is inevitable for you, a person you cannot escape from, is furious, your instincts tell you to hide.
When I was faced in front of my brother, a 6 foot tall looming shadow of red, my instinct was to run away. Run to a place where he could never find me, where his wrath could never reach like it had countless other times in the past.
But there was nowhere to go. The doors of the house were bolted shut, the windows locked, the red shadow blocking the path to any hope of escape. There was no one there who could stop him, nobody other than me, my brother, and the angry ghost possessing his spirit.
In that dark, quiet, two story house, there was nothing I could do but wait. Wait for the words to hit me like slicing daggers, the pinch of hurt like a thousand prodding needles. Wait for the stinging pain of betrayal, for the misty downpour, sliding slowly and carefully down my cheek.
But then, something changed. A new feeling grew in the pit of my stomach, like a hot ember, a burning need to change something. I couldn’t stay silent any longer. I couldn’t wait to fall off the cliff -- I had to back away.
“Stop!”
The word left my mouth before I had time to think. It remained stagnant in the space between us, hanging there by invisible threads of disbelief and surprise. His face coiled up in repugnance, as if disgusted by what I had just said.
“Stop,” I repeated, the clear, cool, word echoing throughout the walls of the house, chasing away the darkness that had rested there for so long.
A new light flooded in its place, a light that enveloped me, carrying me high past the white clouds in the sky to look down at the world below. Now, it was not I who seemed small, but everyone else, and I felt like a giant, looming over the great world.
And it was only then, that I had the courage to look at my brother, not fearful of the familiar angry expression on his face, but grateful, that he had taught me how to find the strength in myself, and rise above my fears. For when the sun sets and the darkness arrives again, that will be the most important lesson of all.
When I was faced in front of my brother, a 6 foot tall looming shadow of red, my instinct was to run away. Run to a place where he could never find me, where his wrath could never reach like it had countless other times in the past.
But there was nowhere to go. The doors of the house were bolted shut, the windows locked, the red shadow blocking the path to any hope of escape. There was no one there who could stop him, nobody other than me, my brother, and the angry ghost possessing his spirit.
In that dark, quiet, two story house, there was nothing I could do but wait. Wait for the words to hit me like slicing daggers, the pinch of hurt like a thousand prodding needles. Wait for the stinging pain of betrayal, for the misty downpour, sliding slowly and carefully down my cheek.
But then, something changed. A new feeling grew in the pit of my stomach, like a hot ember, a burning need to change something. I couldn’t stay silent any longer. I couldn’t wait to fall off the cliff -- I had to back away.
“Stop!”
The word left my mouth before I had time to think. It remained stagnant in the space between us, hanging there by invisible threads of disbelief and surprise. His face coiled up in repugnance, as if disgusted by what I had just said.
“Stop,” I repeated, the clear, cool, word echoing throughout the walls of the house, chasing away the darkness that had rested there for so long.
A new light flooded in its place, a light that enveloped me, carrying me high past the white clouds in the sky to look down at the world below. Now, it was not I who seemed small, but everyone else, and I felt like a giant, looming over the great world.
And it was only then, that I had the courage to look at my brother, not fearful of the familiar angry expression on his face, but grateful, that he had taught me how to find the strength in myself, and rise above my fears. For when the sun sets and the darkness arrives again, that will be the most important lesson of all.