Yearning

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The fireplace crackled to life, glowing a fiery orange and spreading much needed warmth in the living room. The chimney of her little cottage puffed out smoke that soon blended with the dark stillness outside. Esther donned her apron and got busy in the kitchen. She had done up the house with holly wreaths, bells and fairy lights; in a corner stood a beautifully decked Christmas tree.

Occasionally, she stole glances at the window. It was snowing heavily outside and the streets were empty. Had she just seen some one at the gate? She wasn't expecting any one but she couldn't stop herself from hoping. Her husband was long gone, leaving her to raise their only son who ended up featuring in the “Wanted” list of the state police. He spent his life moving in and out of their village, dodging the cops playing a never ending game of hide and seek.

Her thoughts lingered around her child, refusing to dissolve. Darling Danny. The one with blue eyes that easily melted mama’s heart. She felt a sudden yearning for him on that Christmas Day. There was no way she could reach him. “That could prove dangerous for both of us” he had said when they met a few months ago. Nevertheless she laid the table for two and made his favourite dessert.

The wind chimes sang into the night as she sat down to have dinner all by herself. She had been staring at the empty chair in despair when she heard a soft knock at the back door. “Merry Christmas mama!” he whispered and hugged her tight much to her joy. “You’re home at last, Danny!” She couldn't stop the tears as her fingers felt the warm wetness of a fresh bullet wound.

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Vacant

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Anita stole one last glance at the beautiful cottage that had been her home for the past seven years. Her gaze lingered on the French windows that opened into a small patch of velvety grass adorned by brightly coloured bougainvillea bushes with mangled branches. She had spent so many days enjoying togetherness and long conversations with her husband over cups of tea and freshly baked cake in that very place. That was many months ago, before he played a game of hide and seek with her, vanishing into a secret hideout away from this world, never to return.

She would miss the ivory coloured walls that were a collage of glimpses of their life together. She remembered how the wooden floor boards squeaked with joy at their footsteps, the cool breeze that carried with it the scent of the coral jasmines and the cool stretch of white marble on the kitchen counter where he always sat to give her company while she cooked.

These had been symbols of joy until a few years ago, but strangely turned into painful reminders of the emptiness in her life. What had been their home for many years was just a house now, waiting for new inhabitants. She drove away to a new life in a new place, hoping to get away from haunting memories. Another family would move in soon and the house would no longer be vacant. She realized with a pang of sorrow that it would not be the same of her heart.





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Tempted

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Around me people exchanged hugs and pleasantries, partying merrily. There was a variety of food and drinks to keep everyone busy and content, but I felt I didn't belong. It was just not my idea of a party. I was bored to death and longed for company.

That’s when I saw her. For a few moments, it seemed as though the world had ceased to exist. God, she was stunning! An angel, a dark eyed beauty with soft, silky locks that fell on her shoulders. I was captivated by her looks and grace and felt a sudden urge to strike a conversation with her. I looked at her eagerly, each moment filling me with a magical feeling. She was truly magnetic.

She was with a friend, laughing about something. I stood there rooted, my heart racing and my thoughts running wild. That was when she spotted me and locked her beautiful eyes with mine. I imagined she had smiled at me. A wave of determination swept me towards her. She looked even more beautiful close up and I had to clench my fist to stop myself from stroking her tender cheeks. Would she mind if I held her hand? Or shared my feelings? I struggled to restrain my thoughts.

That was when I remembered my mom’s words “Never talk to strangers.” I looked away and slowly walked back to where mom and dad sat. A little disappointed, but happy at having resisted the temptation. “ I have to tell mom about this” I thought. Being a four year old wasn't as easy as she thought.

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Impure

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She was a busy woman. Her youth and impeccable looks made sure she never went out of business. She had been initiated into the flesh trade by her mother when she was barely twelve, when all she had wanted to do was fly kites and feast on flavoured ice. But five years into the business, she was adept at fixing rates, faking her feelings and sweet talking her clients into showering her with gifts. She had even mastered the art of lying to herself about the pain, the disgust, the helplessness and the anger that she felt.

During the initial years her mother had warned her, “Never fall in love with a client. They are not here to give us what we want but to take from us what they want.”  She had believed every word of it until she was swept away from her feet by a man who visited her every Friday. He was in his thirties, fairly good looking, with a streak of gold encircling his ring finger. They spent many nights enjoying each other’s company, talking endlessly until dawn snatched him away from her embrace. She realized that she was deeply in love with this man. She felt trapped between two worlds that could never meet and decided to confess her love to him, convinced that he too felt the same. He was different from the other men she had been with.

His words echoed within her, filling her eyes with grief. “How can an impure one like you even dream of a life with a gentleman like me?” She thought it strange that it was always the woman who was made to feel impure and not the man who was equally involved, even after having betrayed his wife.





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The Offering

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With hope in her heart, she climbed uphill to the temple that had given her solace for two long years after her daughter went missing at that very place. Walking past the familiar sights of beggars lined up along the path and hawkers selling idols, trinkets and flowers that people gave as their offering to please their deity, her eyes resumed their quest for one particular face.

A tiny girl with a tear stained face in tattered clothes walked up to her and tugged at her sari, pleading for alms. Normally she never paid heed the dirty creatures and their calls, but not today.

As a strange kind of realisation snipped off the threads of hope that had held her shattered self together she quietly placed the offering food and money meant for the lifeless idol, on the girl’s palms and proceeded downhill.

P.S- This is my first attempt at Five Sentence Fiction.

This piece of five sentence fiction is written for the topic 'Offering' at Lillie McFerrin Writes.

Participating in the Ultimate Blog Challenge.

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