A droplet of water drips slowly off a blade of grass. I watch it as it falls to the ground, landing among the thin layer of frost.
Life’s beautiful, I think to myself. The singing birds seem to agree with me, as a chorus begins their gentle melody wafts up to the old oak tree. I look up at the sky and watch a pair of birds soaring up to the clouds and then diving back down to the ground, purely for the thrill of being alive.
I never had the chance to learn the names of birds – but then I suppose I never had the chance to do a lot of things. Somewhere in my head a seed of self-pity tries to sprout. I try to hold back the tears that come swimming to my eyes.
It’s weird you know, the hopeless sensation of being afraid but knowing that there’s nothing you can do.
The frost gnaws at my feet, but it just makes me fell more awake, more alive. The trees that line the garden sway in the wind. It seems as if it’s all orchestrated by a composer; one tree after, shaking itself to the beat of the breeze. I never had the chance to learn the names of all the different trees – but then I suppose I never had the chance to do a lot of things. However, everyone knows what an oak tree is, everyone. There’s something that seems to draw me to the oak, something magic – a strange companionship between something that has lived since the dawn of time and something that is tender, fresh and new.
I feel the wind against my face also; a biting coldness seems to live within it, making me shiver. But that’s a good thing, because it means I’m alive…
The whole garden seems full of life, the tall nameless trees that grow towards the stars, the happy nameless birds that sing their songs for ever and ever, the tiny nameless worms that crawl through the mud, living their lives in dark solitude with the soil alone for company.
I take a long deep breath of icy air, mistake. The chill tears through my body like lightning, I’m coughing and spluttering. Falling to my knees, I feel the hurt coursing through my nerves; I lie there, curled in a ball, letting the throbbing hurt drift towards me rhythmically with every heartbeat. I’m arguing with myself deep inside, ‘So is this how I will die?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘But aren’t I too young to die?’ ‘No.’ ‘But there’s a whole life ahead of me…’ ‘Your future’s gone, you’re dying and you can’t escape the truth.’
I can hear one of the nurses running towards me, “What are you doing outside? Get back in the ward now, you’ll kill yourself!”
“I’M ALREADY DEAD!” I scream and run towards the oak, stumbling and tripping.
Life’s beautiful – I don’t want to die. But it hurts so much being alive. But I don’t want to die hidden between life support machines and blood monitors. I want to die surrounded by life, lying in the oak tree’s arms, with the birds at my side, while I’m watching the stars go out one last time.
The nurse looks at me, surprised. She stands there, and I run towards the oak. Its twigs seem to embrace me as if I were its own child. Tears in my eyes, I climb up through the greenery. My feet sting, my chest heaves, but I don’t care. I climb to the highest branch, and look out across the view. The massive white expanse of the hospital stretches out in front in front of me. It seems like a prison to me, the fences enclose me, hemming me in. The nurse is watching me patiently, she knows that I have to come down… or do I? What if I stay here?
I reach out and stroke one of the birds, for some reason, they seem to know when you’re about to die, and they don’t seem scared. When I first came here they flew away, but now… they don’t seem to mind me. They just sit there, letting me stroke them. I’ve never heard of anyone stroking birds before – maybe I’m the first, or maybe I’m the last. Perhaps every patient to the hospital strokes them, perhaps they’ve been tamed by all the patients – perhaps they’ll be the last thing I ever see.
The wind is much stronger up here; my hair would have blown in the sky, when I still had hair… I sigh and lie back against the knarled bark of the tree. The hurt has stopped now, but it was worst than last time – and if there’s one thing I can be sure about, that’s that the hurt will come back.
I shiver as the cold grips me. It seems so lonely up here all of a sudden, but I don’t mind.
An icy drop of water touches my skin and I flinch away, but another droplet hits my face, and another. It begins to rain. I look up; the sky is full of little dark streaks hurtling down to earth. I used to think that when it rained, God was crying. But I don’t believe in God anymore, the world’s too cruel for a god. Instead in the thickness of the rain, it’s me crying. The wetness seems to absorb me, and I dissolve into the midst of the water, just another droplet of water waiting to reaching the ground after an eternal wait. I listen to the thundering sound that rain makes as it hits the earth, and the pattering seems to echo around my head – the last thing I’ll remember.

I open my eyes, the rain has stopped and all is silent. My sodden clothes feel freezing, but I ignore them. Heaving myself up onto my knees I clamber cautiously to the edge of the tree. I look down at the hospital garden; twilight is beginning to descend on the world, the only human in sight is an old lady is making her way slowly through the other side of the daffodils, supported by a pair of crutches. The nurse is no where to be seen.
Content, I clamber back over the tree.
It’s then that it strikes the one last time. Searing pain comes welling up in an instant; I wheeze and then begin to cough. But it isn’t just a normal cough; it’s a deep cough, one that seems to come right from inside my soul. I collapse onto the tree and a branch snaps beneath me, sending me flying downwards. A twisted log breaks my fall – and most of my bones at the same time. The pain is building up inside me, I feel like screaming, every inch of my body sending me sensations of excruciating pain. Now I realise that this is the end. There won’t be another hurt; this is the last and the worst.
I lie back into the tree one last time, the pain courses up towards me, but I grit my teeth and ignore it. A tingling icy feeling is clawing its way up through my body, a feeling of numbness. I know I’m dying. It’s weird you know, the hopeless sensation of being afraid but knowing that there’s nothing you can do. I feel death embracing my small body, gripping onto my beating heart, suffocating it, willing it to stop. But I ignore death, I ignore pain.
I concentrate on living for one last time. The wonderful feeling I had always taken for granted, being part of life. Life seems to encroach around me, holding off death. I’m intensely aware of every living thing that surrounds me, the insects, the plants, the birds. The pain fades away, so does death. I relax, and let go. I feel my soul drifting away from my body and I turn back one last time. I watch as the dark figure finally goes limp, hanging in the oak tree’s ancient arms in the night. The eyes remain open, staring lifelessly up towards the stars as they disappear into the black night one last time. The birds sit at the corpse’s side. So do the worms and the ants and the bees and the flies and so does life. My soul gently sighs into the night as it watches my body lying there motionless. Well, this place is truly somewhere special, it thinks silently to itself.