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

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