The Death of Dear Aaliyah Friday, 20th January 1905 A calm day, life in a palace. My butler comes in , serving me breakfast in bed. "Wake up!", my wife shouts harshly. Reality crashed headfirst into me, breaking my train of thought. There was no lavish mansion. No wholesome breakfast. No posh butler. Just me waking up in a rusty, tattered bed the size of a pig. The thin mattress digging into my numb skin. My wife was shouting at me so we can get our work done, for the one piece of fusty bread and a glass of icy cold water we receive every day for breakfast. I saw her wearing dirty, brown, breaking dress that was once a beautiful sky blue. I was saving up to get her a new one. I finished my work on the rusty factory tools that the government provided for us years ago and ate our stale pieces of bread on the dirty, moldy ground for there is no table provided. That was when Albina, one very frustrating and incorrigible person who would do anything to ruin my day, asked me about my brother. 3 years. 3 years 5 months and 4 days ago my brother left me. He left me, my family, and my trust to join the ‘honorable’ Russian army. I remember the last thing he told me was, “ Dear, brother, I may have lost the trust of you and all of our family, but let me make this promise: nothing is going to come between my job and I. I thought I've seen pain before this, but unbelievably, things got even worse when Bob left me. That was when Father Gapon shouted out to the entire crowd of us hardworking workers in the cotton factory. Everyone dropped what they were doing and started to gather around him, to be respectful. "In three days, we shall all march to the Winter Palace to present our allegations to our Little Father! He is sure to relieve us of our misery. We are going to give him this letter, and we will finally lead a life of equality!" In that moment a spark of hope came upon me. Surely my child will not grow up to be like me, or like my brother. Today has been one of the best days for me, in a long time, for hope has finally dawned on my life. This petition was very long, and Father Gapon read the entire letter out loud. Only, two stuck with me. 1. An eight-hour working day and regulation of overtime work 2. Wage regulation, at once. These were the two things that I wanted. Money, and sleep. I wake up at 4:30am ever day and painstakingly, over working and exerting myself until 11:30 at night. Sleep has become foreign to me. Saturday, 21st January 1905 One day. One day will change everything in mine and everyone else’s life in over here. Excitement flooded through the factory as bustling people talking about tomorrows march, including me. My wife was talking about how amazing it would be to meet the Tsar in person. She said “The Czar must be quite handsome in person, not to mention extremely sympathetic to our situation, he will most definitely do something about that greedy богатые люди. We should save some food for tomorrow! Алла must get very hungry on the way!” I thought to myself, “Those greedy, snobby, land-snatchers will pay the price for the misfortune the have brought for us!”. Алла is my most precious possession, my daughter. She
turned 3 today as did my wife, who instead turned 23. Everyone worked faster today so they can save some time to create colorful banners of the honorable Czar for the march. Now, I must leave to slumber, so that I can wake early tomorrow to attend the march along with my family. Sunday, 22nd January 1905 This day was not just a spark… It was more than that. It is the spark that occurs before a fire, that destroys most everything in its way. This day makes me feel imprudent. My life has been ruined because of the menacing, malicious, materialistic ‘Czar’ that we all appreciated. My wife… she was killed. She was murdered by my brother, who I know does not regret it. He did keep his promise: he did not let anything come in the way of his job. I could see him smiling viciously as he shot the bullets from his long gun. He and his fellow army men killed my family, friends and everything I care about. They knew we were unarmed, they knew we came in peace, they knew we had women and children with us, they knew we would be helpless after. Yet they shot, at everyone that stood before them, with no mercy on their hearts. Алла, wounded. Her head was bruised really bad. I cannot afford the hospital fee. So she lays, on my lap with a cold, damp cloth on her head. It was 3 minutes after the firing started, that I saw my wife fall to her knees, shot straight into her chest. The last thing I heard her say was “Look out, Boris!” The bullet was heading my way. She ran in and took the bullet for me. Her body was later taken away. I will never see her again. She left Алла, to run towards me. Алла was stridden on by the frantic crowd. Her head hit a rock, she has not stopped crying ever since. After all, she is only 3 years old. This is how the last 2 days of my life started with a spark and ended with a fire.
Published on Mar 13, 2018