Screaming, I must be crazy!

Who could it be?

In a dream I saw on a land- Tall, strong, huge, must be a man.

This man (so I assumed!), was in such a rush, loading up jars and jars of “I don’t know what”.

Looking over his shoulders once in a while, anxious if anyone would know, or tell or be caught!

I followed, I mean, I must! A man so sneaky could not be up to any sort of good.

I was quiet, all nimble and quick, and I thank God for my winter hood.

I waited for my chance, the time that he would depart from his precious jars, so firmly on the ground I stood!

I pry open the lid of one of the jars, warm gushes of wind rushes out. It smells of fresh flowers, (of Magnolias, Roses and Violets!), it smells of glorious fields in spring that no longer existed. Only buildings sprung out from fields, a new kind of weed that were strong and persisted.

Next up, was a jar almost overflowing (to the brim!, Lucky I was careful!), with water that was warm and comfy. I almost tasted, if not for the label as I was feeling rather naughty.

Collected from all over the world (even from 2 blocks from home) - the boy with Aids, the girl that can’t see, the uncle that just can’t relate.

It came from the baby that had nothing to eat and the mother that was unreasonably sacked. It came from the soldier that was shot and came from the boy that lacked.

These were precious and could fetch a high price in the market, for tears that were wiped are hard to come by.

We have to survive, there’s no time for tears at least not for these few years, at least that’s what I hear.

Next up was a really huge jar – I had a hard time peering in without crashing in. What precious loot! A collectors’ item they were for sure, if I cared a hoot!

My eyes lit as I read a few pieces of notes that were written in there! A lost and found counter inside a jar! That was just too tough to comprehend.

A man wanted to find his voice – he couldn’t stand being shouted around. A teen lost her chastity – the uncle, her mom brought home apparently treated her as one of his own. An old man was looking for his pride, a maid was looking for rest. An orphan was looking for God from above, not afraid of being reprimand.

I rushed to the jar nearest to my right. I didn’t have time and I was in such a fright. The last jar I opened was cute and small – it contained laughter of children below four. Oh, the chuckles, the giggles, the hooplas and cheer, it instantly loosened up my rather tight jaw.

Who was the man? How did he do it? He had stolen these treasures that all of us neglected.

He took the smell that belonged to the fields and exchanged flowers with towers and no one refuses.

He stole the tears that were scarce to be found, stored them and simply ignored them. Maybe he was hoping someday, it will come, when tears would be in fashion, a gem!

He knows all those who are missing stuff and are praying earnestly and he piles their requests without lending a hand, such integrity! And to think he camouflaged all the laughter of the children and hide them and made them unaware of such power.

I grew red in anger, I was going crazy. Of such crimes, such audacity! Who could it be that had gone scot free? He better not be caught, he better flee.

I went down the list of people I know, and I asked each time, I paused and wonder could it be you?

The above was an entry that I sent in for a Human Rights Writing competition. I dunno why but I am feeling rather embarrassed by this act. Honestly, I think they might be laughing at my juvenile attempt of writing. But... I only live once, so this is my shot.

Screaming... I must be crazy now! But the sent button has been hit!

PS: If it sucks, don't tell me. I cannot live with such humiliation ha ha ha