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墨書 Inktalez
The boy pushed open the front door and, at first glance, saw his father, mother, and younger sister already up early, gathered around the dining table preparing to enjoy breakfast. Their faces bore no expression, as if frozen in time.
"I'm back," the boy said casually, his voice low and hoarse, as he prepared to head upstairs for a shower.
He couldn't possibly go to school feeling this lethargic; he would surely face the harsh reprimand of his dreaded Class Teacher. With that thought, he let out a slight sigh.
Hot water poured from the showerhead as the boy closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting it cascade down over him.
It was already autumn, yet he was still sweating profusely. He felt a twinge of annoyance as he vigorously scrubbed his body with his hands, wishing to wash away all the grime along with the fatigue and fear from the night before.
After showering and changing into clean clothes, the boy hurried downstairs with his backpack slung over his shoulder.
He pulled up a chair and sat beside his sister, his gaze unconsciously drifting toward the food in front of her.
His mother stared blankly at him, not chattering or scolding like she usually did; she simply sat there, motionless.
His father was as absorbed as ever in a stack of newspapers spread out on the edge of the table, focused on reading despite the fact that the newspaper was dated four years ago. His gaze was intent yet vacant, as if lost in his own world.
In front of his sister sat a glass of milk and a piece of cake, clearly prepared with care.
Their mother always doted on her; even her utensils were specially bought in a matching set adorned with little pink strawberries, looking particularly warm in the morning sunlight.
The boy watched his sister with a hint of jealousy. He picked up a piece of dry bread and took a bite, his movements somewhat stiff, revealing a trace of loneliness in his eyes.
The family quietly enjoyed their breakfast, without any arguments or complaints, more harmonious than when they were alive. Yet this harmony brought an inexplicable sense of eeriness and oppression.
The boy's parents and younger sister had all perished in an unfortunate car accident, leaving him as the sole survivor.
Once, the boy had asked his father what death meant.
His father, impatiently setting aside his work, frowned and replied, "It means being too tired to go on living."
Then the boy asked his mother the same question. She looked at him in horror, instinctively covering her mouth with her hands. After a long pause, she answered tremulously, "It means leaving forever."
His mother's anxious demeanor affected the boy, making him realize that death must be something terrifying; at least it frightened her. A flicker of fear crossed his eyes.
Finally, he asked his sister what death meant.
His clever sister thought for a moment and then replied earnestly, "Maybe it's like a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly, or a beautiful girl becoming something new, like Sleeping Beauty who sleeps eternally."
In that light, death seemed to be a wonderful thing, and a hint of confusion appeared on the boy's face.
He began to ponder deeply: What exactly is death? Why did his father, mother, and sister have such different answers? Perhaps death held different meanings for everyone. He fell into deep contemplation.
So the boy thought to himself: My father was too tired to continue living; my mother left forever; and my sister is quietly sleeping like Sleeping Beauty...
Why am I the only one left alive in this world?
Perhaps it was because I had yet to define death. No, more likely, it was because my parents loved my sister the most, so they took her with them. A hint of desolation and loneliness flickered in the boy's eyes.
They had gone to another world to be reunited. In a world without me, my parents must be very happy, the boy thought with a bitter smile as he shook his head.
So in this world, the boy could only use his sister's doll to replace his parents and her, pretending that they were still a happy family by his side. He gently cradled the doll, his eyes filled with affection and reluctance.
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