A Lake of Tears

                                       “A Lake of Tears”

                                                 By: Edgar Ramirez



“Leave me alone,” I cried. “Please, I’m begging you! Ugh!” The older kid, a fifth grader removed his knee from my stomach, allowing me a breath for a single second. His jeans were bloodied and covered in a small coat of dirt. He signaled to the other two to release me, but they decided a unique approach at dropping me. They took my hair and smashed my head on the warm, rocky blacktop. My vision began to fade and their jeers and laughter became muffled. Just another day for the freak, I thought. A small pool of blood formed around the base of my mouth, it felt warm, thick, and dark. I began to believe that this blood was my dark side and with every beating I’d lose my darker self.

Suddenly, I awoke from my trance to the jolt of excruciating pain from a boy’s shoe colliding with my stomach. I groaned ferociously as the pain set into my body, and tears formed around my eyes. I felt like a beast, a monster, a sick animal getting whipped. I knew that if I made a single cry or yell for help, the next beating would be more severe and possibly fatal. I lay there on the blacktop of my elementary school playground, bloody, broken, left for dead.

         “Leave him alone!” A girl had approached the scene, unafraid. She was about seven or eight, long flowing chestnut hair, possibly too long for the average second grader. Her body figure was small but strangely defined as strong. She wore a pair of faded jeans, a Hello-Kitty shirt, and a little green zip-up jacket. Her voice was gentle but demanding; it would swiftly carry through her red-pink lips and flow freely in the wind. She, for a second grader, was not only beautiful, but unlike most in our class, she was also highly intelligent. Yet, none of this struck me when I looked up at her. Her eyes were like a stormy ocean, full of rage yet showed a portion of calmness. Her name was Jasmine Sparks.

“Ha! Sorry, we don’t fight little girls, just freaks,” the oldest kid replied as he once again smashed my ribs with his foot. “Just run along, and don’t tell anyone.”

“I will tell everyone if I want to. As for the hitting girls’ thing, that’s a good thing. It gives me an advantage,” Jasmine sprung up from her position and swiftly sprinted at him. The older boy looked amazed, scared almost. When Jasmine got close enough, she slid onto her knees and smashed into the boy, sending him flying over her. He fell hard with a thud and an angry groan. Jasmine jumped back up and turned to the other two. The other boys looked at each other and assumed what they believed was a “professional” battle stance. Jasmine, however, stood there, giggled, and flipped her hair back and in a split second was between them. She ducked out of the way of a fist coming towards her, and countered with an elbow to the chest. The boy howled in pain like a werewolf. The other boy tried to grab her as she was distracted, but she sensed it and rolled out of the way. The boy wrapped his arms around the other and was momentarily confused. Jasmine took advantage of this, and kicked the grabber in the back, dropping both to the floor like Lego blocks.

She turned to me, and I covered my head. She gave a shy giggle, and took my hand. Her hands were soft, and really warm. “While I’m around, you’ll be safe. I promise.” She was so gentle now, so beautiful, and her eyes went into like a calm lake. It was as though she hadn’t just beaten up three fifth graders. She was my best friend.

For the remainder of the school year, she and I became closer and did practically everything together. No one messed with us, no one fought anymore. She was a really nice girl with a strong character and heart. Her promise led me through the time and remained in my heart. Whenever I saw her, I felt safe. I felt loved.

One of our favored activities was hanging out at a lake not too from our neighborhood. It was more of a pond, full of different life forms ranging from the smallest fish to the rare cat lurking in the shadows. It had a few trees, where many times she and I would “hang” in the branches or relax in their cooling shade and rest upon its rough, broken trunk which held a life far greater than we would ever imagine.

         The days passed very normally and calmly, with little to no incident at all. Yet there was one day where the magical place of our childhood would turn to a living hell. The day was June 23rd, 2003. A gorgeous day, the end of the school year, and our end-of-the-year field trip were all coming up in a few hours. Jasmine and I got to pick the place, and of course we picked our lake. At two o’clock, every second grader in our class exploded in excitement and all of the little rockets flooded into the bus. The ride was short and really uneventful; full of bumps and turns that made us all go, “whoa!”

Upon arrival, we were all told to stay in a group, however, Jasmine and I, disregarding this rule, sprinted away from the group to our little hideout. A little clearing just a bit away from the place we stopped at. It was a really beautiful place, being closed off by an army of trees, it had a little beach area type thing where there were little rocks that seemed to try to be sand but failed miserably. One or two trees outlined the shore, and their roots stuck out from under the water.

Jasmine looked at me and I once again found myself wondering about her mysterious eyes. They were so calm, reassuring, and gentle, but still held a sense of strength, unwavering courage, and unassailable confidence.

         Jasmine took a leap off the shore and into the water; she resembled that of a frog because of her green swimsuit. She stayed underwater for a while, and making me worry about her. “Come up for some air, Sparky!” I yelled out. I’d begun calling her Sparky because of her last name, which I found hilarious. She, however, would not appreciate it and I would always receive a punch in the arm for it, but we would just laugh it off.

         Jasmine stayed down longer, and longer. The time ticked away, making me feel like it’d been hours since her last breath. Suddenly, her head broke the surface, but something wasn’t right. Her arms flailed in the air, splashing water in every direction and her mouth attempted so hard to reach the surface to take in some air to survive.

         I froze. I watched in horror as my best friend, my guardian, was beginning to drown. I just stood there. I watched her rosy cheeks begin to fade, and turn to a sickly green-blue. Her hair was wild and shooting in different degrees. But her eyes struck me the hardest, and to this day I will never forget the sight. Those ocean eyes were swallowed into the lake, taken in by the force of nature, taken away from me by the very hand of God Himself. Her eyes were a stormy ocean, full of panic and fear.

         Her strength gave out, and she sank. My last sight of her alive was a single tear, strolling down her cheek. Lost in the tomb of sorrow that holds a piece of my heart and soul. Our friendship and love fell in that lake with that forgotten tear. She left me alone in this world that was full of evil; an evil she had helped me conquer but would now return to swallow me. This wonderful place became a living hell in a matter of seconds.

         The moment she sank, I unfroze. Horrible timing, I freaked out and ran to the group, and told the teacher. She didn’t believe me at first, but then I began crying, and yelling. She knew I was telling the truth. She called over two dads, and they both went into the water and pulled a body out. I wanted to believe it was still Jasmine. Jasmine was full of life, full of spirit. This body was dead, lifeless. She couldn’t have been Jasmine. I could not have let my best friend drown. Yet, I did. I let her down.

         Her funeral had followed a few weeks past. After the coroner had decided, it was indeed a drowning; she was dismissed to the funeral home to be prepared to be buried. My family had never met Jasmine or her family so they didn’t want to stick around, so they dropped me off. All dressed in black, and wearing my slick black Fedora hat, I walked up to her. I touched her coffin, her new home. One single tear rolled down my face, a single tear.

         “I’m sorry.” I whispered, hoping that this was all some sick joke being played on the freak. She was getting me back for calling her Sparky all of the time. That had to be it. I couldn’t believe it. I was only seven years old at the time and so I just did what I thought I should have done. I laid a kiss on the coffin, trying to let her know that I was still with her.

         Then the priest began talking, giving a few words of sympathy and sending her soul on her way. Jasmine’s mother was a wreck, she wasn’t crying. That’s how I knew; she was bottling up her pain, like I do even today. She and I were really the two most affected people in that place. When it came to my turn to say a few last words, I walked up there, with my head hanging down to the floor.

         “Jasmine was my best friend. She was my guardian, and almost like my sister. She was everything to me. In her hour of need, I didn’t do anything, and may God forgive me for that. God have mercy on her, for she never did anything wrong. She was an angel and deserved a better life than this. I’m only seven, but I cared for her dearly. I’m the freak of the school and after today, I’ll be alone. I wish everyone the best of luck, and may God bless you all. Goodbye Jasmine.”

That was my entire speech. I trembled while delivering it, and my small hands were shaking and sweaty, and my eyes were misty with pain; misty like the stormy ocean, a calm wave flowing through the seas. One last tear rolled down into the ground, lost forever. This is the lake of tears.















Personal Note- I’d like to point out that the events portrayed in this composition are true events. The names and events have remained unchanged due to respect to my dearly deceased friend. I miss her so, and I hope she is well in the afterlife.

With all my love to you,

Jasmine Sparks

Edgar Ramirez