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Pieces of Advice From Heaven

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Hungry Ventriloquist
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Hi everyone! How many times have you uttered this phrase “I wish…” throughout your life? Many I bet. Sometimes it’s not just something you simply say that one time only, but something you’ve been hoping for from the day you think that it’s something that would make you happy (but would it?). And you keep wishing for it. Some go crazy for wanting it so badly. Take my advice, be grateful.

Anyway, let me introduce myself. I’m Baby. Well, actually I don’t have a name but I don’t like it when people keep calling me, “hey” instead of a name. I think Baby sounds cute so please, call me Baby. I’m not like you. I’m not normal, therefore I have many wishes, thinking that those wishes would make me normal again but I don’t think those wishes would ever come true in this life. Maybe the next – if there is one.

One of many wishes that I have is that I want to be hugged by my mother. I want to feel her arms holding me lovingly, her soft lips kissing my cheek when I do something amazing and her hands tickling me when I need to laugh a bit. A touch of a mother is a cure to a child’s anxiety – like a drug, more or less.

Oh well, I guess that wish would remain a wish, because my mother had ‘kicked’ me out of her big tummy when I wasn’t even ready to get out yet. And, it hurt me so much when they were taking me away from where I supposed to stay for another few months. I didn’t have the power to do anything – no, not even to cry for help. I hate those people who took me away. Who are they to play God?

Tomorrow would mark the fifth year since they took me away. If they did not take me away, I could ran happily, play with other children. Oh, how I wish I could go to school. I want to make friends with others and I want to learn a lot of things. I want to help others with the knowledge that I have. I want to make my mother and my father proud one fine day. Oh dear! What am I thinking? I’m not even allowed to see my mother. I don’t even think she would ever be proud of me. Impossible!

I have another wish; the one that I’ve been saying again and again. I wish that my mother and father would tie the knot before I was even created. They said it was an accident, they didn’t mean it to happen. I am ‘it’. Maybe they considered me as a symbol of their forbidden love or a punishment rather than a child they need to raise. That was why they called me ‘it’. When other children’s mother and father want their children to be happy, mine couldn’t wait to take me away. What kind of parents are they? Cruel! Selfish! People nowadays are heartless to their own child, so how do you expect mankind to stop war?

If you let me go on, I could tell you like 1001 more wishes that I have but it would just bore you to death. That wouldn’t be nice, would it? I like to talk though, to myself. It’s rather lonely here, but it’s okay. I’m getting used to it.

I hope those who have the chance to live, cherish your life. Be grateful. Whatever God has given you, it is for your own good. He knows best. He’s the best planner. And God has given you something special – freewill. It’s the power to make your own decision without being controlled. Maybe that’s why they say that others can’t change you unless you want to change; they only have the power to change themselves, but not you. And I guess, my mother and my father and the bunch of people who took me away from my mother’s womb, they have the choice – to let me live or to let me die. And they’d made their decision.

Even though I don’t get to see the real world, I’m glad because I’m safe from making sins. If I live, I might do destructions to the world. I might fail to carry out my role as a vicegerent. I might break my oath to make peace in your world. But you, yes, you who are listening to me, be grateful for living. Make good use of life – once you die, you chance is over.

I’ve said what I want to say. Thank you so much for listening. I know it's tough and you might think you are crazy listening to an unborn baby, scary even, but I hope what I've said is useful to get you going. Goodbye!

Previous short story:
Hungry Ventriloquist
Next short story:
Euphoria
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Huda Engku

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