When I was younger I lived all alone with my mum in the rustic land of bridgetown.her face was always the same from when I can remember her cheeks coloured by the twin dabs of powder she applied on both sides,her hair stained with the glossy mixture she smeared upon it that smelled so much like the strawberry I love
Strawberry was extremely scarce, so it often Disturbed me as to why one would rub such expensive condiment on the hair only to have it washed away wasted like it meant nothing to them. It Disturbed me so much that on. One cool evening,I snuck to that small shelf where she usually kept all her accessories I picked the object of my concern and I raised it. It looked so beautiful in the moonlight that illuminated the room. I brought it from its elevated height of worship down to my nose, and at once, the familiar scent of my craving rushed straight up my nose to brain; talking along a pin with him bursting all my bubbles of reason and caution,soon it was in my mouth and I began sucking and pressing, trying to get the shiny substance in it out into my mouth. A successful atempt it was satisfaction clouded my eye and I soon emptied its contents. I expected more satisfaction at the savoury taste that I had been longing for, expected to feel the warmth of sweetness in my mouth,but all that came was nothing, only a tingling and piercing taste of nothing. I immediately began a quest to get the substance out of my effort, the more it dominated my mouth. I began spewing thick globs of spit, scrubbing my tongue with every piece of clothe I could view in my closed eye frenzy my tongue felt like it was on fire. I fell on the floor rooling and yelling,till my mum Came running up the stairs. Her heavy footsteps initially would have been a source of panic to me, but now it was the footsteps of salvation when she entered and saw me on the floor, she quickly scanned through the room to get what was going on and in search of any threat that might have been the source of my predicament she saw the opened tube of her strawberry hair relaxer lying empty on the floor,and I, still engrossed in my service of mouth cleansing,my yells . reduce to short whimper. Instantly,her demeanor of worry and concern changed to a terreyfing one; she pulled me up from the floor with my ear, promptly picked me up and slung me across her shoulder, and began smacking my backside as we journeyed down the stairs; reigniting the flame of my yells. She set me down roughly on her sitting room cough and left me in my plight
I began thinking about what just happened. I know that strawberry tasted like. Grandma always brought me some when she came visiting,and I knew it certainly didn't taste like what I consumed up there. Mum Came back a moment later with a strong_smelling mixture she had in a cup it was supposed to help me remove the tingling sensation she said I accepted the cup.
Whole some forgetting my disdain for anything bitter; as I would have accepted anything that would douse the flame in my mouth, I began drinking in full gulps, not bothering about the taste, just let the flames die.
At the young age of six, I didn't know much about death, but I had heard enough of it to know it wasn't a good thing. Mother never remained the same after that I never saw her smile, and she was always never there; except in the evenings
Mum just ordered me to go to bed with a note that we would be visiting the doctor tomorrow morning.
As I lay on my bed that night clutching my belly an stifling groans. I journeyed back into my world of thoughts, thought of strawberry.