Skip to main content

TO...FRO... CAN'T LET GO...(Day 11 NaNoWriMo HWR)




               TO...FRO... CAN'T LET GO...

The gray mists of my memory part to that high summer August day when I'd left the classroom to stop by the water cooler. My eyes had wandered to the school playground and the swings. I never got a chance to play, with the roughshod kids making their way there first. Jerome, the school bully beat everyone to it and hogged it for the entire recess. Now was my chance to take a swing or two.  

Mid-afternoon hunger pangs were gnawing at me and I'd longingly looked at the school garden.

The wired fences were entwined with Strawberries, BlackBerries... Raspberries! I thought I could do with a bite of those. The tangy juice and wholesome bites of the fruits refreshed me. Lost in a reverie, I had pushed the garden gate and ventured inside. 

Corn cobs! My favorite snack! 

As soon as I pulled a ear, I heard hysterical screaming and another one hollering instructions. The voice was unfamiliar and malevolent. I stood rooted to the spot hidden among creepers, vines and the patch of tall corn. 

Gunshots zinged past the metal of the swing. I had clamped my ears, pursed my mouth, urging myself to not even exhale ! 

The screaming didn't stop. The gunshots were manic, fired haphazardly. Terror was running through me and I lay crouched. After what seemed like hours, I heard police sirens, ambulances and school parents in a mass hysteria outside the gates. Injured kids, some dead, some barely alive were wheeled out in all urgency. Jerome hadn't made it…

The swings have long since been abandoned and is a host to an overgrowth of shrubbery. The sand, levelled by the breeze and many seasons bears no footprints of my classmates, although the leaves whisper all their names when a wayward wind rustles them… 

Pic Courtesy: Pixabay

©️ Sangeetha Kamath 



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

TALES FROM THE GLEN BLOGGING CHALLENGE 2026

  Image Courtesy: Pinterest  This post is a part of BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026 Chapter1  https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/abercrombie-locke-mansion.html?m=1 Chapter2  https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/brambleshire-woods-day-2-letter-b.html?m=1 Chapter3  https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/meadow-brook-cottage-day-3-letter-m.html?m=1 Chapter4  https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/egad-shambles-in-brambles-day-4-letter-e.html?m=1 Chapter5   https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/veiled-night-at-meadow-brook-cottage.html?m=1 Chapter6  https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/library-of-cryptic-clues-day-6-letter-l.html?m=1 Chapter7  https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/hopper-hare-day-7-letter-h.html?m=1 Chapter8  https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/chipper-chipmunk-day-9-letter-c.html?m=1 Chapter9  https://sanguineallegory.blogspot.com/2026/04/dapper-dormous...

ANAM CARA

The waves are soft and frothy. Laced with gossamer frills tenderly kissing the tips of my toes covered with the grainy sand of the rugged seashore where I'm sitting, wistful. A gust of briny breeze tousles my hair as I gaze as far as my eyes can see.  A flock of terns wheel overhead, their sharp, shrill cries punctuating the air as they dive and swoop over the surfs. A lone frigate bird , its crimson belly dazzling like a jewel skims majestically above, its long, slender wings outstretched as it rides the thermals high above the ocean. I absorb the sights and sounds of the late afternoon while absentmindedly scooping seashells beside me. As the afternoon phases, the furthest rim of the ocean is fringed in a gilded hem and the sleepy sun yawns, its dipping glow streaking the sky in a mellow tangerine and warm cherry. As I continue sitting there, the ships and yachts appear --specks of light from the portholes glimmering in the distance, reminding me of the phrase “That ship has sai...

THE BIG BAD WOLF( DAY 17, LETTER T)

                          CHAPTER 16                    THE BIG BAD WOLF  The pigs snarled like proper rascals, fixing their cold steely eyes on the Wolf's cottage. How dare he refuse to part with his cottage! When the pigs demand, it's given to them---no questions asked! Porkinn limped, Baconne was soggy, Swinedell rubbed a sore bump on his head, but they were far from defeated. Swinedell snorted, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "Wolf thinks 'e's posh, don't 'e? " Baconne sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring. "We want the cottage!” He growled. Porkinn cracked his fingers, his sly glance darting about.  The pigs crept towards the back door, their footsteps silent on the soft grass. They spotted the Wolf through the kitchen window, stirring a pot of steaming stew for dinner. They kicked the door in, the wood splintering jaggedly. The latch gave in....

ABERCROMBIE LOCKE MANSION

This post is part of the Blogchatter A2Z Challenge 2026.                                                  CHAPTER 1        ABERCROMBIE LOCKE MANSION  The sky bled bruises of plum and cherry over the rolling hills. A full moon hung low against the mauve casting silver shards through the trees. The mansion made of cold greystone loomed large beyond the rusted iron gates. It grated on the gravel, rasping on the hinges and yawned open like a predator's jaw as Goldwynn booted it open with her foot. Her sneakers squished heavily on the mulch of dead leaves. Clutching her backpack, she looked up at the towering, grim structure forebodingly.  "Are you sure you want to do this?" her friend Lexi whispered, hesitating by the gate. "This mansion's totally cursed, they say." Lexi's voice was a thin thread. A chill crept up her back and she tight...

OMINOUS ORDEALS ( DAY 19, LETTER O)

                         CHAPTER 18                  OMINOUS ORDEALS  The bears startled, then Papa Koala rumbled, "Goldilocks! You…how can it be !” Goldwynn knelt among the bears in the arbor, Mama Koala still sniffling into her shoulder. "I'm Goldwynn, Papa Koala...Goldilocks was my great grandma. So... what happened that day? Why are you hiding away here ?" Papa Koala’s fur bristled.He growled low, his eyes clouding. "The pigs... they came like a thunderstorm banging on the doors and shattering our windows." Mama Koala trembled, clutching a torn apron corner. "I hid Baby Tasha in the cupboard. Told her... 'Hush, sweetpea, like a little mouse!' But…" Papa Koala’s fur ruffled as he puffed out his chest. "I stood tall.'This is OUR cottage!' I said. Goldwynn leaned in and patted his arm Papa Koala snorted. "Baconne pig struck me with a stick. Porkinn pig fluffed porridge e...