My mother told me I was there when it happened … I was the last person to see him alive, but somehow, I can’t remember what transpired on that fateful day. The day I lost my brother doesn’t exist in my memory. All I recall are the devastating consequences that my parents endured after losing a child. The closest thing I can remember about the whole tragedy is the horrifying day that followed, a day that had a decisive impact on my life.
That morning, I had a grisly dream. It was a returning experience, a narrative that has now become familiar. In the dream, a gaunt hungry dinosaur stalked me during my morning stroll towards school through a bleak forest. I tried to hide, conceal myself from its yellow seeking eyes. My craven endeavour fell in vain when its nose smelled my growing fear. I remember noticing black fumes escaping my pores, my angst visibly betraying me. And so the hunt had begun, for the fumes grew too large to hide. I sprinted as fast as I could until I reached a turning point when I realised that all of this was happening only in my mind. I boldly decided to let the nightmare end by standing still and accepting the monster’s wishes. With its sharp claws, it slashed my face. I didn’t feel the impact and that quick realisation yanked me into reality. Instantly I was awake, dispossessed from any lingering slumber. It was a thrilling beginning to a new day. My big brother didn’t wake me up as usual, which was surprising to me. What increased that feeling was the silence in our room. My brother’s bed, which was right across mine, was empty. I made my way down the stairs for breakfast. Both father and mother sat silently, eating their morning bread. A bizarre hostile sense that I couldn’t place or reconcile hung around them. My parents didn’t acknowledge me. Where was my brother? Why were they so quiet? And why do I feel like I am not present in the room? Finally, I gathered my thoughts and asked, “Where’s Kyle?” With a sudden movement, my father, for the first time ever, struck me flatly across the cheek with his hand. I couldn’t understand. What did I do wrong? My mother rose to my defence and attacked my aggressor, and within the blink of an eye, hell invaded my home. My ordinary life was forever altered with that incident. The slap I endured for asking a question felt as if it ripped something away from me. I cried and yelled to make the fighting stop, but in that infernal moment, I was non-existent. My mother pulled my father’s hair, and he punched her to the floor with the full strength of his fist in return. All their boiled up misery was getting discharged in the utmost barbaric way. I learned who my father was that day with just that one question - he is a man that couldn’t bear pain. I never received an answer for my question from my parents, and I didn’t dare ask again. My pivotal question was answered the day I got to attend my brother’s funeral. It was a deranged experience to be enlightened about his death like that. I knew that whatever happened was horrendous from the repeated nightly cries I witnessed of my mother and the emotional estrangement of my father. Still, I hadn’t imagined it to be death. The casket was closed, and I remember wanting to see him, thinking it might make me cry and not seem like an emotionless freak. Perhaps it was because I couldn’t believe he was gone. Anyhow, I didn’t dare question it again, especially since I got to witness the abuse my mother faced. A few days after the funeral, I was finally alone with my mother. I gathered my guts and tried asking her about it this time, knowing that father wasn’t there to turn the house into hell. I tentatively asked, “What happened to Kyle?” My question tore into her soul - she wasn’t ready for this. Her eyes narrowed, her mouth trembled, she couldn’t stop blinking. Seeing her face shift from miserable to tears pouring in devastation, made it unbearable for me to listen to her response. “Can’t you remember? You were there … you were playing together. I’m so sorry … I can’t ...” Her pained shivering voice inflicted a tremendous amount of guilt in me - how could I even dare ask a mother about her deceased child? The lioness who was unsuccessful in protecting her cub - a female creature in incomprehensible agony. It was a torment measurable only by the following sentence I learned later in life: If the pain of a parent losing a child was usable as a weapon, it would singlehandedly annihilate all life from the world in one hammer-like blow.
Four solitary years passed. Nothing really changed at home: my parents fought all the time, and I was all alone. I hoped to find more comfort in school, but that hope was misplaced. School became a nightmare that developed more and more horrific as the days passed - the worst thing about it was that it wasn’t a nightmare that I could stop by standing still. I became known as the boy who lost his brother: ‘the cursed boy’. Without my big brother to protect me, I became an open target to every cruelty that children could muster. They used the title ‘the cursed boy’ to alienate me. If people dared to play with me, they would end up like my departed brother, gone from life. Friends turned to bullies. Life turned to torture. I developed a desire to commit ‘suicide’ even before I had any knowledge about what the word meant. I believed in God, in heaven and hell, in angels and demons. I was a good boy, wasn’t I? Would I be reunited with my brother in heaven? It was then that the image of the tears falling from mother’s face came into my mind. Oh God, my mother! How could I even think about such a thing after knowing what losing my brother had done to her? How selfish was I? For this thought alone I would end up in hell. And that was how the thought of ‘suicide’ became something that was locked away - for her, only to protect my heartbroken mother. The only pleasant thing I remember about school was how it got me into the habit of reading. It was the only thing I could do at school, as playing by myself wasn’t favoured by my bullies. Reading became a perfect way for me to create a place for myself, where I could hide. A book in my hand helped me to physically shield myself from all the other children. Spiritually, it transported me to a fantasy world where I was king. It was a place that I could rule, a place where the only protagonist was me. In that world, my bullies feared me and stayed away. It was a place where my brother was still alive. Years passed this way, and in the meantime, I read everything I could get my hands on: books, magazines, comic books, and even newspapers after my father was done with them. And from them I found out that my brother’s body was never found. An article in the local paper told me the truth of the matter - ‘13 year old Kyle’s body still missing’, the article title said. The casket that I had seen during my brother’s funeral had been there only for purely symbolic reasons. It was a lie, and I knew then that I hadn’t been able to cry that day because I had sensed, somehow, that he wasn’t in there. Dead or alive - there was still a mystery to be solved. I started to write in the hope that I would create my own truth. I wanted to envision it so badly. I required a reality I could cope with. I needed closure for everything else in life wasn’t aiding me. This idea just might help me through the storm that constantly threatened to engulf me. So I sat down, paper before me and pen in hand, ready to write my bible, for I believed that even if it was just a myth, it would guide me through till the end of my life. However, nothing came. The pressure was too high, and I was left with nothing but blank pages in front of me for days. If this wasn’t the way, I would lose against all that life had thrown at me. After days of staring at the blank pages came my crushing defeat. I couldn’t succeed. Nature seemed to empathise, because that stormy night’s hellish rain came down so fiercely that it withheld any hopes of sleep from me. I lay unwillingly awake, grudgingly thinking that my plan had failed. When I was finally able to comprehend the outcome of my faithful pursuit, tears started pouring involuntarily. Oh God, how I cried! It felt as though I was making up for all the years that I didn’t cry. My pouring flood of tears were trying to triumph the storming rain, and for a moment I thought that it would be the only victory I would achieve in life. While I endured that cruel understanding, a deep, strong, masculine voice took it away. Strangely though, it didn’t scare me. “You going to cry all night?” the question made me sit up straight on my bed, gawking at whatever had appeared in my room. It was a blue, glowing, man-like figure that wore a long grey trench coat with an old matching detective’s hat. This apparition was sitting on my brother’s bed and watching me cautiously. Its facial contours seemed to diversify, constantly transforming, and it appeared as though there was a different face under the detective’s hat every second. What was this thing? Should I be afraid? It somehow seemed friendly. Daringly, I stood up and leaped from my bed, my curiosity piqued. “What are you?”
“I am what you could call a Phantom Detective.”
“Are you dangerous?” This blue, glowing thing laughed in five different fading faces before saying, “No, not even if I wanted to be. I can’t physically touch you. It’s made impossible for us.”
“Why are you here?” I gently moved closer, reaching out with my hand towards this thing. “You needed help finding something. I am a detective, after all. I’m good at finding things.” It playfully jabbed its hand at mine. No contact was made though - its blue glow floated around and through my palm. A smile returned and shifted around on its multiple faces. “See? I can’t touch you. But down to business, kid, you need to get dressed. I’m here to find your brother.” Was this it? Was this what I needed? Is this real? Am I dreaming? No, I wasn’t, because I couldn’t sleep. I pinched the tip of my finger with my nails and felt the pain. The shifting eyes of this ‘Phantom Detective’ looked at what I was doing and shook its head. “You’re not dreaming. So don’t do anything stupid like the last guy.” I gathered my clothes and started to get dressed, for the possibility of any news about my brother could galvanize me to take an adventure across the globe. I asked excitedly, “What did the last guy do?”
“He jumped off a building believing he could fly. Ironically, he had followed his lover’s footsteps. Anyway, we’ve got to hurry. Otherwise, the trail will grow cold.” A sudden feeling of dismay came over me. I whimpered, looking down at the floor, “But he disappeared years ago.” Anger boiled up inside me. Did whatever this thing was come to me too late? The apparition got off my brother’s bed and knelt down before me. I could now sharply see its strange shifting faces - young and old, female and male, they all passed too quickly for me to ratify a single one. I felt as though the fear I should feel was repressed. Shouldn’t I be afraid? It spoke to me in a deep calming voice, “Where I am from, time moves differently. Let’s just say that I can use time in a unique way. I can see the days that went by and what happened on all those days, but I’m not allowed to stay as long as I would like in order to see them all.”
“Why not?”
“We are given rules to obey and combined with those rules comes our quest. Without both, we, the Phantom Detectives would not be able to cross over here. The one who gives the rules also gives us power to transfer here. For without its rules and quests, we would be in chaos. And besides, I’ve got other places to be.”
“Who gives you these rules - is it God?” Again, a smile appeared, carrying it from one of its many shifting faces to the next. “God? That old coward? No, not Him. That creature has nothing to do with me, thankfully. But enough questions, we got to be on our way. You want to find your brother, don’t you?” Bravely, I spoke up, “Yes, I do.”
“Then let’s go. Quietly though, we don’t want to wake mom and dad.”
I followed the blue, glowing thing down the stairs. The Detective halted before the front door, hunkering to keep its voice down. “I need something of your brother, preferably a pair of boots or a jacket.” Without answering, I rushed to the closet near the front door. From it, I retrieved my brother’s boots and handed them to the blue figure, who went on to thoroughly examine them. Once done, he whispered, “This will do.” The Phantom Detective opened the front door and entered into the pouring rain. I donned on my boots, snatched my jacket and hurriedly followed this bizarre thing outside. Dark clouds prevented the sky from showing its bright stars. Instead, the clouds let loose what they had gathered for long. The blue figure bent down on its knee and placed the boots of my brother on the dirt ground. Rain didn’t affect this blue thing in any way. However, it hailed down on me. Seconds passed during the time the Detective was performing its craft. Impatiently, I asked, “What are you doing?” It raised its glowing hand to silence me. Suddenly, blue footprints appeared on the dirt path, heading into the dark forest that loomed across my house. The blue figure looked at me over its shoulder. “Are you afraid of the dark?”
“No, I am not.”
“Follow me then.” We both pursued the blue, glowing footprint trail that led us far into the nightly forest. I stayed safely behind the Detective, letting its blue glow lighten the path before me. “How did you make those footprints visible?”
“So you can see them? Well, that means you have a gift and can, one day, even become a Phantom Detective yourself, if you chose to.”
“Would I become blue and glowing as well?” The Detective frowned over its shoulder towards me. “Something wrong with glowing blue?”
“Not really. It’s just that hide and seek would become very difficult, with the glowing and all.” It didn’t regard my comment, but just continued on. I had so many questions, and even though I got the feeling that the Detective didn’t want to be side tracked from its goal with further questions, I still asked, “How can you open the door and place the boots on the ground, but not touch me?” With a smirk shifting from face to face, the Detective answered, “Good question for a boy of your age, only the clever ones ask that - I give them all the same answer nonetheless. There is a reason our realities are separated, I’m only allowed to guide you on your journey. If I alter this world any more than I have to, then I’m endangering both you and me. For everything is a trial, you have yours still ahead and I have completed mine. Too much intermingling between this, can create catastrophic consequences, for both realities. And that’s all I’m permitted to say, abiding by my laws.” I contemplated on its mysterious words - I imagined some distant world far away, that spies on us, all the while we know nothing of them. Suddenly and without any warning, the blue figure stopped dead in its tracks. I thought I would bump into its trench coat, but instead, I entered its space. Blue lights flickered all around me, bright shining stars - the universe itself like the iris of an eye. A cosmic blue, glowing jelly pudding seemed to dispense everywhere around me. “Hey! Get out of me, kid.” The Detective jumped aside, releasing me from the blue hypnosis. The glowing figure raised its voice, “Don’t do that again! I’m not looking in you, aren’t I?” Its angered tone inflicted an embarrassing feeling in me. “I’m sorry. It was an accident.”
“Just don’t let it happen again.” With repentance I replied, “Okay. I'm sorry. I’ll keep my distance.”
“Alright, good. Now stay focused.” The blue, glowing figure adjusted its detective hat before saying, “Do you smell that?” I inhaled deeply. “I smell the sea.” The detective turned its head back towards the blue, glowing trail and spoke in its deep masculine voice, “For better or worse kid, we’re getting close. Come on, let’s hurry. Time is running out.” The Phantom Detective rushed along the glowing trail. I followed with immense dedication, for I felt that my long-awaited answer was near. We left the forest behind, and the scenery shifted. The dark forest changed into moonlit sandy dunes. Marram grass rose all around us, waving along with the blows of the cold winds. The rain had stopped, and the clouds made way to the moon and stars to give us light on our journey. We ran onwards to the top of the dunes ridges, crossing it all the way till we reached the beach. The blue, glowing trail reached further into the sea, where it became indistinct. I needed to catch my breath, but the Detective went on - setting foot in the water and striding against the waves. I yelled, “Wait for me!” The blue, glowing figure moved deeper into the sea. Its grey trench coat seemed to float on the surface. I gathered my strength and waded into the water. The Detective didn’t respond, but I tried again, “Wait, I can’t swim!” The blue glow illuminated the water around the Phantom Detective while the deeper water slowed him down. I couldn’t go on, for I couldn’t swim. I was knee-deep in the sea now, haltingly moving further. I can’t let him go without me. I’ve come this far. I’m so close to the truth, I kept telling myself. The fear of drowning was pushed aside, and with giant leaps and strides, I made my way as close to the thing as I could. I then slightly bent my knees and jumped, unafraid of the severe consequences it might have. My hand reached forward as I kept thinking to myself, I will not let this escape me, I will find you. I dove towards the blue Phantom. As my hand touched the grey trench coat and I felt the fabric of its jacket, it seemed to me as though the world stood still. The glowing half-submerged Detective ruptured in front of me. A cosmic blue blaze blasting over the water was the last thing I saw before falling into the dark. The sea had swallowed me, and the waves pushed me around. I saw nothing. The trench coat was still in my hand. It was all that I had left, so I held onto it. Suddenly, I sensed that I was falling asleep. The blue rupturing blaze returned and all that was midnight black faded to cosmic blue, serenely it shrouded over me. Was this the way we die? No, it couldn’t be, not after all this. This was what I had searched for so long. Then, inescapably, it came to me, an enlightenment trance, and I began dreaming about the memory that was once erased. The last time I saw my big brother, my beloved brother.
I finally remembered how we used to play war while running over the dunes ridges, the sand erupting upwards with each stride. Exploding sand clouds fell on our shoes, slipping beneath our socks. Oh, how furious our mother used to get for the mounds of sand we brought trudging home! We used to slide down the dune valleys, filling our pockets with even more fuel to put on mother’s fire. I remember playfully plunging onto the beach where the imaginary bombs that fell made us jump from left to right. When I used to slack behind, my brother would pull me further along, quicker, as if otherwise the bombs would be the end of me. I played the young private, holding my driftwood stick like a deadly rifle. My brother acted as the older Lieutenant, throwing rocks like grenades. When my brother saw people in the distance, going for a stroll onto the same beach that was our imaginary battlefield, he would always stop playing. My brother, Kyle, was a teenagers who felt he was too old to play such games with me. I acted along, and so, I quickly learned that playing was not for teenagers. It was for me, though, a child. When they finally passed us by and we were alone on our beach once again, he would jump on top of me. Throwing me off my feet while yelling, ‘‘Get down, grenade!’’ I would fall on my back painfully, but before I could know it, my brother would swipe me up on my feet and drag me along, throwing the rocks back at whoever dared to fire upon us. I’ve had so many good memories of days like these, which were all locked away now because of one darkened memory that tainted all the others - the one nightmare that blocked all of them, the one that I needed help to retrieve.
A stormy day was upon us. We went to play on the beach, anyway, against our mother’s wishes. We knew that no one would be there in this downpour, and we would have an entire beach to ourselves. There would be no one there to witness the teenage kid playing with his little brother. We ran at full speed away from home through the forest, between and over the dunes, heading towards our beach. Rain descended heavily upon us, but we were prepared for the monsoon. The storming rain could never harm us in our durable boots and long rain jackets. Oh, how I enjoyed the smell of water falling from the sky and the sight of it descending into the endless ocean. I can never appreciate those same things again without being reminded of my beloved brother. We watched the sea being at war with itself, the waves that tried to swallow us, wanting to take us with them on a journey into the furious ocean. My brother, fully soaked, said words to me that have now come to constantly circulate in my head, ‘‘We’re drenched anyway, let’s fight against these monster waves!’’ He charged into the sea, and as always, I followed. My brother jumped as high as he could, with his leg forward and kicking the waves in half. He broke the curling water and fought his way through. I couldn’t follow him further, so I screamed, hoping that would stop him, ‘‘Wait! I can’t swim!’’ I wasn’t strong enough, my legs not capable enough to jump as high as he could, my arms not powerful enough to break the waves. Oh, how I tried. The sea hit me back with all its power, pushing me back ashore each time I tried. Afraid, I yelled, ‘‘Kyle! Where are you?’’ I couldn’t see or hear him by then. So I had to try again. With large steps, I jumped back into the water, trying to make it deeper into the sea this time. But the waves were stronger and bigger, and though I kicked and punched as hard as I could, I lost each time. I was defeated and alone.
But now, through my quest with the Phantom Detective, I’ve achieved an everlasting victory. The sea that held me down during the duration of the dream released me from its cosmic blue grip. It spit me out onto the beach. I puked the swallowed sea water as I lay in the sand, when the last salty drop left my lungs, I finally gasped for air. Though I might have looked defeated, I felt nothing but triumph. I was alive, and not only that, I remembered all those memories that were once locked away. I was still clutching the trench coat in a tight grip, but then, it wasn’t grey, nor a trench coat. It was a yellow rain jacket. It didn’t belong to the Phantom Detective, not anymore. This yellow rain jacket belonged to my brother. And the sea had given it back. It was a memorial item that the sea gifted me so that I will never lose my memory again. Even though I now know that my brother is gone, and I suspect that I will never see him again on this Earth, I know that this wasn’t our end. We shall meet again, and till that time, I’ve won back my memories to keep me company. Farewell brother. Continue to watch over me as you always have.