Blue Cards

Dean M.H.C, 030920, 1761 words, Blue Cards

I held onto my mother’s hand, walking through the streets as the world bustled around me. I watched as the life of the world around me stuttered with a sense of splendor. The sky was a cloudless blue, the buildings a bright set of electric candles lining the street, the smells of the shops with the departmental air fresheners or slightly overcooked food was the atmosphere that I had grown up in. I jerked by head around to see the patrons slowly trickling in and out, some laughing, some crying, some screaming, some nothing. A glorious cacophony of life.

We walked down the cold, grey pavement that was paved without a road, with a hundred of our peers right beside us towards the same place. I looked up at my mother, wearing her black dress and shoes, walking ahead of me as she ensured I would not run into anyone. Her eyes, tired from waking up so early, blinked slowly and surely at the road ahead, and soon at me. She pat me on the head and sped forward to match my father, a black suited man holding my younger baby sister. She was always a quiet baby, sleeping throughout even the worst of storms, and it seems that my father was close to follow suit. I wasn’t sure how early it was, but my father hid a few yawns in midst of his steps. My mother gave him a couple of looks to make sure that he wouldn’t drop the baby in his arms.

We came closer to a large domed stadium. I remember coming here before, to watch a game where many men played around with a checkered ball. For a moment, I wanted to ask my mother if we were going to watch it again, but the sudden focus that my mother had in her eyes told me that it wouldn’t be suitable. My mother and father’s stride slowed as we approached the large doors, taking our place in line towards the ticket booth.

We waited for a time. It shouldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but it felt like eternity. My mother let me go during the time, but with the mass crowd that surrounded us and the stench that some of them had made me cling to her more. My father dug through his pockets while balancing my sister on his left arm, which made my mother lightly slap him on the head and take her from him. He eventually pulled out two blue cards, having three punched holes at the top. One was given to my mother, who gave back my sister. She ran her fingers over the card as she kept it into her dress. I tugged on her dress, but she smiled at me and patted me on the head.

-0-

When we came to the front of the line, there was a lady with glasses in the booth that replaced the other guy that was there for the ball game. She was wearing a dress that was very similar to my mother’s, but with more buttons. I couldn’t see her eyes properly because of the light, but my mother and father was tall enough and they passed her the cards from their pockets. I saw her head pivot down to me, before pointing at me and saying something to my mother. The sounds of the world around me made it incredibly difficult to hear anything, but my mother seemed to understand, pulling out her purse to hand a few green bills over to the lady.

The lady took the money and gave her a blue card, before opening the gate beside of her for us to walk through.

As we entered the stadium, my mother took me aside and handed me the card, telling me to never lose it. I nodded as I took it with my fingers, and my mother smiled as she ruffled my hair. As we walked deeper into the dome, I ran my fingers over the card. It had no words, except for a few white boxes that counted to five, with an adorable small cartoon cat at the end of it, holding a drink and relaxing on a chair. We soon caught back up with my father and shuffled into the stands.

It was a place in the middle, with a bright red back and an orange bottom. My mother and my father sat at my sides, my father handing my still sleeping sister over to my mother. We waited in our seats as the others began to trickle in, filling the half-empty stadium over the course of thirty minutes into a full audience. I spent the time playing games on my mother’s phone as my parents dozed off. They needed their rest, I supposed. Waking up early for our family is a rare occurrence, which was kind of obvious seeing how deeply my sister can sleep.

Once the stadium was filled, a bell rung out in the center of the stadium. My mother and father jolted awake and my mother took back her phone from my hands. They stood up, crossing their right arm across their chest as the sound of trumpets and a choir rung out. My father poked me on the shoulder, and I copied them, standing up on the seat and crossing my right arm across my chest. My mother carried my sister in her left arm while she did it, but for some reason the baby was still fast asleep. The song was a long one, but whenever I tried to sit down my father would poke me again.

When we sat down again, a man came out from the doors of the center stadium to a cheering crowd. The noise was deafening as my mother and father gave polite clapping. I could barely see the man in the middle from my height, except for the clear black suit that he seemed to be wearing. I gave a glance to my sister, who was still sleeping in my mother’s lap. If she could sleep through this, she could sleep through anything, I thought.

A garbled noise came through the speakers of the stadium, each pause in his speech met with cheers, my parents’ claps. A growing sense of apprehension seemed to fill the stadium as the crowd seemed to grow louder, with the man eventually gesturing in spins as the doors behind him opened.

The cheers grew slightly quieter as a ragged man in chains, with black suited people at his sides, walked through the doors.

I was too small to see the stage properly, but even I could tell that he was not having a particularly good time.

But then again, what did I know?

It was probably something impossible for children like me to understand.

-0-

The man began to speak through the garbled speakers again, as my mother and father began to yawn. I could barely understand the words that he was saying, but as the audience began to quietly listen, I could see the hunchbacked prisoner, chained at the wrists and the ankles, his hair nearly as long as my mother’s. He only had a grey jumpsuit, with illegible numbers on his front.

The next few minutes passed as the man made a speech. It was boring, uninteresting and absolutely exhausting. I nearly fell asleep, but for some reason my parents were more awake then ever. My father sat cross-legged with a hand on his chin, my mother rocking my sister back and forth while staring straight forward.

Eventually, a large cheer from the crowd burst forth.

The chained man was brought into the center of the stadium. From where I was sitting, I could see as the man was bent over on his knees. The black suited announcer used his leg to force him to the floor, making another large garbled speech that was shorter than the last. I was about to doze off again when I saw him pull a long shiny bar from his waist. The crowd began to chant in a way that I have never heard off in school.

The shiny bar came down, and the grass stained red. A flow of red came from the man’s neck, covering the grass as the crowd began to cheer.

My mother and father politely clapped once again, with a final speech from the man as the other black suits pulled the prisoner into the doors, one of them holding his head.

-0-

Our travel home was uneventful. My father brought us to a nice place where my mother bought a slice of cake, and I got a nice bowl of ice cream. My father and my mother seemed gentler than usual as they seemed to be staring more at me than usual. For a moment I thought it was something on my face, so I quickly wiped my mouth clean.

They patted me on the head, my father putting me on his shoulders as we walked home.

The moment we reached, my mother and father immediately put their cards on the table in the kitchen, before going upstairs to their bedroom. They were probably exhausted.

I roamed the house for a bit before I decided to copy them, placing my pristine card on the table right beside theirs. I ran my finger over the cards, both of my parents’ cards of which now had four of their boxes punched in. I noticed that my father had a dog as his character at the end of the boxes, and my mother had a mouse.

I ascended the steps as I could hear my parents’ snore. I was about to enter my room when I noticed my sister’s room open.

Stepping inside, I marveled at her crib. How could she still be asleep?

My father’s stubby brown hair decorated her head. Her eyes closed, I knew that behind them were pupils of brilliant green, like my mother.

As I patted her on the head gently, like how my mother did, a flash of red covered my memory.

Gently, I took my finger and drew it across her soft neck, imagining the flash of red once again.

She squirmed, and I giggled. She was so cute.

I wonder if we could see that again. When she was older, perhaps.

But I supposed that it was pointless.

After all, it was impossible for children like us to understand.