It’s my birthday today. There are only two things I can guarantee on my birthday.
The first is that the sun will always shine. No matter what the rest of February throws at me, the 17th will always have a clear blue sky.
The second is that something will try to kill me.
This has happened since the day I was born. By the time I’d taken my first breaths the midwife had tried to end me.
“She was sweet as pie, Lewis,” mum told me later in life. “Petite, cute as a button. As soon as you were delivered she changed. One moment she was smiling as if you were her own. The next there was such… evil in her eyes.”
My dad managed to prise me from her arms as soon as it became clear she was hurting me.
“She was ferocious. It took five hospital employees to hold her down!”
When I think back to my earliest childhood birthdays I recall only flashes of distress: my mum’s cries as she locked me in the pantry, hearing the house being overturned, my dad screaming to sounds of struggle. It wasn’t until the eve of my seventh birthday that they explained why I couldn’t go to school the next day. Then I started to notice the evidence of my parents’ protection. Scars over dad’s body, and for as long as I could remember mum was missing a finger on her right hand.
From experience we learnt that I’m only at risk between sunrise and sunset. As long as the sun is shining I’m in danger. Who or what will be out for me can never be predicted.
My 15th birthday is one I’ll never forget. My dad decided we’d go away for a few days to see if getting out of town made a difference. We drove for hours to the Lake District, staying in a remote cabin surrounded by hills. There was a small lake just a stone’s throw away.
As always, the sun was bright on the morning of my birthday. We never made plans for obvious reasons, instead settling for a day in the cabin. Mum packed the playing cards and we spent hours playing Rummy and Pontoon for pennies. Dad occasionally looked around the cabin with a handgun, checking for signs of anything unusual. Mum had a large hunting knife in a sheath sitting on the edge of the table. By that point in my life, it was no longer alien to see such weapons in my parents’ possession. Being at an age where I could actively defend myself too, I had a baseball bat by my side.
Just to be safe dad had switched off the electrical mains to the cabin before sunrise. There was no need for lighting seeing as we had an abundance of daylight pouring in. I peeked through the window and asked if we could go for a walk around the lake, the shimmering surface looked beautiful.
“We have more control in the cabin, Lewis,” dad said. “There’s always tomorrow to explore the landscape.”
As it got closer to sunset you could cut the tension with a knife. We stopped playing cards and sat at the table in silence, waiting for the inevitable. My stomach was in knots. I met mum’s eyes and she gripped my trembling hand.
“We’ve got this,” she smiled, but I could tell it was forced.
Within the next few minutes there came some distant whistling from outside. Dad’s eyes were wide as he gripped the gun. It made my heart jolt.
“Wait!” said mum quietly, grabbing his arm. “Dont be rash. It could be an innocent passerby.”
“There’s no harm in being cautious,” he said, pointing the gun at the door. We were all on edge as the whistling got closer. Before long it sounded like it was right outside the cabin. Dad stood up.
“Get the fuck away from here!” he bellowed, making me flinch. Mum stood too, pulling me up with her. She got in front of me and unsheathed the knife. The whistling started to move around the cabin, as if the person responsible was circling it.
“I said fuck off!” dad screamed. The person continued to whistle the pleasant tune, not intimidated in the slightest. When it sounded like it was coming directly behind me I looked over my shoulder. An older man wearing a wide brimmed hat passed the kitchen window, looking down as he whistled. It was only then that I realised he was whistling the classic Happy Birthday tune. He looked up and gave me a wink as he met my eyes, sending a shiver down my spine.
As the whistling reached the front of the cabin again, it stopped. My parents’ weapons trembled as they held them at arm’s length.
“Lewis!” came an excitable voice from the front window. It made me freeze. The man was dressed in typical walking attire. He held up a large metal can with a huge grin on his face, then poured out some liquid.
“Please tell me that’s not…” said mum.
The man dropped the can and dug around in his pocket, pulling out something that glinted in the sun. He clicked his finger and I could just about make out a small flame. He smiled as he stared at me.
“No!” screamed dad.
“Happy birthday Lewis!” said the man, then he was engulfed in flame.
As my parents panicked, the cabin gradually became hotter and filled with smoke. But I couldn’t take my eyes off the man staring at me through the window. Despite his skin peeling away from his skull, he continued to whistle Happy Birthday until he physically couldn’t.
I was suddenly shocked as dad wrapped a cold wet towel around me.
“Lewis!” he screamed in my face. “I’m going to kick down the door. You run straight to the lake, do you understand?”
I stuttered, then started to choke from smoke inhalation.
“But the fire…” I said, scared.
“Don’t worry about the fire!” he demanded, pulling the towel over my head. “You run to that fucking lake and you get straight under the water, okay?”
I started to cry and felt mum put her hands on my shoulders from behind.
“I’ll be right behind you,” dad said, choking. He made his way to the door. The heat was becoming intense. “Are you ready?”
I remember seeing a wall of flame; then I was in the lake soothing my burns. Mum was next to me screaming dad’s name. He wasn’t with us.
It took me a long time to accept that it wasn’t my fault. Mum helped a lot with that.
“Your dad loved you more than life itself,” she said. “Just like I do.”
As soon as I turned 18 I no longer accepted my mum’s help with my unusual ‘condition’. She’d done enough for me. She screamed about it but I made it easier for her by disappearing every birthday. I tend to visit remote places, where I know there won’t be many people. It doesn’t ever stop someone, or something from finding me, but I feel better knowing I’m not endangering others.
Mum called me last night, as she always does on the eve of my birthday.
“You call me at sundown,” she said. “Promise me Lewis.”
I promised her and made my way back to that lake, where the cabin no longer stood. Instead I set up a tent by the water’s edge.
As the sun began to set today, my 31st birthday, my anxiety levels settled too. It was the longest I’d ever been without something trying to kill me. I started to ask myself hypothetical questions.
Was it a 30 year curse? Had I narrowly avoided death without knowing it?
I was confused but excited! I’d never seen the sun begin to set before the inevitable murder attempt. I sat on a deck chair and admired the colours over the lake’s surface. I had a glass of wine and a pot of fruit salad. The sky was that beautiful shade of purple you only see on the brightest days. I held up my glass, acknowledging the scar on my hand from a previous birthday.
“To cheating death another year,” I smiled, taking a sip of wine. Then I threw a grape into the air and caught it in my mouth, like I used to do when I was a kid.
That was a mistake. I began to choke.
I dropped my glass which shattered on the lakeside stones. Panicking, I made a fist and forced it into my chest several times. It made no difference. I couldn’t breathe!
I frantically looked up and down the shore for signs of life, for anyone who could help me. I was alone out there; that’s what I had wanted. I fell to my knees and held my hands to my chest, becoming lightheaded. I thought about how close I was to making it through another birthday, the sun almost completely set.
And then came the whack!
Before I knew it I was laying on my side coughing my guts up, the grape having been hurled from my windpipe. My back and chest stung to high heaven! I took in exaggerated breaths as the sun disappeared over the lake.
When I was calm enough, I set up my phone to take a picture of my back.
There’s a fucking red handprint!
I’m 99% sure that some random passerby didn’t sneak up, slap me, then run away. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I happen to be in the vicinity of where my dad spent his final moments. I won’t lie; I’m freaking out. But I’m alive!
For those that don’t know already, look up how to perform the Heimlich Maneuver on yourself. It could save your life one day! You know, if you don’t have a dead loved one to help you.