I used to think I was the happiest person in the world for having a big family with three daughters, son, four grandson and three son in laws. My life was just perfect but things started to change when my husband, Albert Johnson died in a terrifying way – He was cut into 18 pieces. His head was left hanging. His inside orangs were missing and the polices never found their murdered.
My children suspectedme, for the night before he died, we were having a fight on small matters. I felt frusturated and bewildered. How could my children, my babies – My grown up babies were thinking malicious thoughts about me? Everytime I thought about this, tears ran down and when it started, It would never stop.
It was a usual Friday night with twinkling bright stars. The moon was shining eventhough I knew moon do not shine. I lied down on the soft grass looking above. I used to this with Albert. I used to sleep on his shoulder while watching a sun eclipse and things like that. I refreshed every memories I had spent with him. I felt peaceful but at the same time I felt agony.
Suddenly , I heard someone saying something so I stood up. It was my son. I was not surprise for he usually came to visit me every night. David is wearing his black sweater with a word saying ‘I love you, Mummy!’, Short blue pants and from the distant I could see him giving me a smug smile. A smile that once again reminded me of Albert.
“Let’s get inside.” I spoke urgently.
David just nodded his head. He then went to the kitchen and made a cup of tea for me and him. As we were busy talking someone knocking the wooden door. We ignored it which was not a good idea. A group of people with tight pants, muscular bodies , with scary symbol on their T-shirt.
One of them approached us. His hair was dyed with red color, His arm had scorpion tattoo and the sacriest thing about him were his eyes – On the left eyes it was yellow in color while the other one was nothing. Only a burned scar. They spoke in different languages. A language that I never heard before.
Then, a gun was held on my head. I was trembling very hard, shaking nervously. Prespiration trickled on my forehead. I tried to be tough for I knew David would not let me down. He loved me, I knew he loved me. Unfortunately, my thoughts was wrong. I was wrong. He never did love me.
“You can have her now.” He laughed.
He give me a smile ; A sweet smile full with hated. Ofcourse, I was surprised. The man with the scorpion tattoo gave David two brown bags where I was so sure it was full of money. It broke my heart to see such a sight. As the time passed by, I knew death was nearing me. The shining sharp razorblade was held on my throat. David whispered on my left ear ‘ I once did this to dad and I will do this to you.’ He kissed my forehead and for the last time I cried.
“Bless you, son.” I muttered in a sarcasting way.
12th August 2011, Stephanie Raynee Johnson found death. A pool of blood could be seen in her living room. Like her husband she was cut into pieces, her head was hanging and all the inside organs were missing. But no eyewitness saw this murder scene. Even the police did not not have any idea who did this.
Saffa’ Shahri
