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

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

It was that high summer day in August when I had 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 like Jerome making their way there first.

He beat everyone to it and hogged it for the entire recess. The only time I sat on it yesterday, Jerome had stormed across, his eyes throwing daggers at me.

Clutching my collar, Jerome had yanked me off. Even before I could get my bearings, I was face down, his meaty hand pushing my head into the ground and raining blows on me with the other.

Tasting blood and gritty sand in my mouth, I wished I was stronger than him to fight him back.

Raucous laughter and snide remarks from Jerome followed me as I meekly staggered away.

That lowdown worm! I wish I could squish him underfoot until his innards spread out like jelly and marmalade all over the playground! I wish that his so-called territory would be splattered with his blood!

****

Now was my chance at the swings!

Meanwhile, mid-afternoon hunger pangs were gnawing at me and I longingly looked at the school garden as I made my way towards the playground.

Lost in a reverie, I pushed open the garden gate and ventured inside where the children usually weren't allowed.

The wired fences were entwined with strawberries, blackberries and raspberries! The tangy juice and wholesome bites of the fruits refreshed me.

Corn cobs! My favorite snack!

Just as I was admiring the towering stalks, I heard hysterical screaming and another one hollering instructions. The voice was unfamiliar and malevolent.

Gunshots zinged past the metal of the swings. Clamping my ears and pursing my mouth, I urged myself to not even breathe!

The screaming didn't stop.The gunshots were manic, fired haphazardly. Terror cruised through me and I lay crouched, hidden among the creepers, vines and the patch of tall corn.

After what seemed like hours, I heard police sirens, ambulances and school parents in a mass hysteria outside the gates.

A young man in handcuffs was dragged towards one of the police cars.

Injured kids, some dead, some barely alive were being wheeled out in all urgency.

Jerome hadn't made it…his body ridden with bullets was a bloody mess!

Jerome, I didn't mean for you to have such a brutal and painful death…

Jerome…

Jerome is gone! My classmates… all gone!

Torn… mangled…

I survived…

After a while, I was found grasping my head and rocking back and forth, muttering incoherently.

*****

The swings have long since been abandoned and are a host to an overgrowth of shrubbery. The sand, leveled 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…

Jerome… Mea culpa… Mea culpa…

Author's Note:

Mea Culpa comes as an expression of guilt.

Pic Courtesy: Pixabay and ArtoonsInn Writers Room

Comments

CHAPTER 1: THE JADE SHAMBHALA

This post is Chapter 1 of short story series titled The Jade Shambhala. Tasseography is as old as time. The stories in the tea leaves will leave you in a spin, while the healing tea that precedes it anchors you like gripping oak roots. Every day for the next seven days, Xiu-Ying will welcome a new traveler seeking refuge from their heavy burdens, reading their futures in the settled leaves and guiding them toward peace as the seasons shift on the ridge. Welcome to The Jade Shambhala Tea House! CHAPTER 1 EARLY SPRING Ko-San Tê Bai Mudan (White Peony and Red Dates) The morning mist in the rolling hills of the 1980s Taiwanese countryside did not rise; it dissolved, burning away into thin silver threads under the persistent warmth of the early spring sun. The Yun-Shan Ridge grew f...

QUEST FOR THE BEARS (DAY 18, LETTER Q)

CHAPTER 17 QUEST FOR THE BEARS The next day, the pigs trotted off to spread mischief in the woodland, their ricky-ticky steps scuffing the damp path into a mess of overturned leaves and broken twigs. Goldwynn stayed crouched behind the wonky rain barrel until the sound of their pig-trouble thinned, then thinned again, then dissolved into the larger quiet of the trees. She didn’t move right away. The woods had a way of listening after the pigs left, as if it wasn’t sure they were truly gone. The air held its breath with her. When she finally stood, the silence felt heavier than noise. No birds called. The light came down in broken pieces, the sun playing hide-and-seek through beech and alder, dappling the forest floor with spools of pale gold. The ground under her boots was soft and cold, a black earth that smelled of truffles gone to rot and old rain. It stuck to ...

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....

RUTHLESS REVELATIONS (DAY 16, LETTER R)

CHAPTER 15 RUTHLESS REVELATIONS The Three Little Pigs stood triumphant in the whimsical cottage's living room, surrounded by mismatched furniture and waltzing dust motes. Baconne , Porkinn , and Swinedell grinned at each other, puffing out their chests like gangsters. Baconne swaggered closer to the makeshift bar. "You know," he said, stroking his shoulder, "the Big Bad Wolf wasn't so bad after all, was he?" His grin split wide, showing a gold-capped tooth. The pigs snorted, their belly laughs vibrating the chandeliers above. Swinedell poured three tiny glasses of wild truffle liqueur with a theatrical flourish. "Cheers to us!" he growled, hoisting a glass. "We wanted his posh cottage for ourselves. Wolfie mutt was just defending his pad." His eyes glinted like cheap jewels. Goldwynn's face paled. She stammered as she whispered, " Wha...

CHAPTER 2: THE JADE SHAMBHALA

This is a part of a short story series titled The Jade Shambhala. 7 days, 7 stories, 7 different exotic tea blends from the Far East and unique tea leaves reading for each. Welcome to the tea house! CHAPTER 2 LUNAR NEW YEAR Kim-huan Tê ( Golden Lily Oolong) The early spring air hanging over Sian-Phô village was heavy, smelling faintly of spent sulfur from the Lunar New Year firecrackers and the cold, sharp scent of wet pine needles. Up on the Yun-Shan Ridge, the festive red lanterns hanging from the eaves of the low wooden cottages were damp and water-logged, their brilliant scarlet dye bleeding slowly into the persistent gray mountain mist. The holiday had just ended, and while the rest of the village was settling into the quiet hope of a new agricultural...

Sangeetha Kamath

Search This Blog