HONEY BUN, SUGAR PLUM

The mid-morning January sun was bearing down on Jemma. It was unusually warm today and her summer hat couldn't help the beads of perspiration from dripping down into the garden bed she was furiously jabbing at with a trowel.

She tried to keep her mind off things, trying not to look at the house across the street.

Why me? Why Jacob? Why not…

She put an end to her thoughts abruptly and continued raking the soil to plant Gerberas.The Buttercups were blooming and were Jacob's favorite. He and his friend Brian had planted these last spring for a school project. She ran her fingertips wistfully across each bloom as though caressing her dear boy.

Olivia had told her they would be arriving around noon. She abandoned the half dug trench, gathered the tools and walked hurriedly to the shed.

With moist eyes, she entered the cool confines of her kitchen and sat at the table, sipping an iced lemonade. It calmed her nerves.

She saw Olivia's car pulling into their driveway. Brian got out the back seat, gazing wistfully at Jemma's house. Her resolve crumbled and wild sobs racked her body.

Jacob and Brian, best buddies for fifteen years, went to the same school and class. They promised to stay through thick and thin, even signing up for organ donation campaigns held in the town. Both the mothers were aghast but in their hearts knew they had raised good boys who would one day turn out into fine gentlemen.

Everything was hunky-dory in their world until casualty struck.

A freak shootout at the school claimed many children while Brian, Jacob and a few others were rushed to intensive care with grave injuries. Tense moments later the doctor approached them and gave them the news of Jacob's passing and if they could use his heart as a transplant to save Brian's life.

Numb with grief, Jemma had signed on the dotted line…

And today, Brian was walking on his feet holding her son's precious heart. A knock on the door snapped her out of her reverie. Olivia stood with a box of honey-cinnamon buns, once a favorite of Jacob’s and Brian with his hand outstretched holding a bouquet of buttercups, eyes downcast.

The moment was frozen in time and Jemma made the first move. Hugging Brian close, she felt Jacob's heart beat inside. A steady beat which said, “Mom, I'm right here”...

Her boy lived on through his friend. With this solace and relief washing over her, she ushered them both inside for tea.

When it was time to leave, Brian stopped by the fringes of buttercups. Jacob's project had won them a prize at the gardening activity at school.

Seeing the half dug trench, and the packets of seeds lying forgotten, he rushed to the shed and returned with the trowel.

Getting down on his knees, he carefully planted the Gerbera, giving Jemma a reassuring nod.

Out of nowhere, there was a slight drizzle of summer rain and a rainbow appeared in the sky like a heavenly smile.

(Word Count : 500)

©️ Sangeetha Kamath

Pic Courtesy:Image by Petra from Pixabay

Comments

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....

ARIEL AND BLUE-BLOOD SHOES

The waves crashed violently against the craggy mountainside and the moonlight shone on the lacy froths. As I waded through the water and stepped on the wet sand, I remembered another night which was many moons ago. The same glinting lights through the palace doorways and windows, the fireworks adorning the night sky like shooting stars and meteors. A royal celebration with all the works and the guests dressed up in their best finery and aristocratic jewelry. Of noble births they all were. Blue blooded as the matriarch had pointedly told me once. That unholy night! That night of icy hearts and howling laughter, the echoes of cackling that followed me till I ran on wobbly legs to find my place of comfort where the land met water… Hot tears streaming down, I regretted those days when I lost my heart to a man so spineless. Had I not dragged him to the shore, he would have been a mangled mass after being torn apart by the piranhas and other monstrous maws. How I regret…Oh!...

A-Z Blogging Challenge Theme Reveal

Hey everyone! April is almost upon us and it reminds me of my childhood summer vacations, visiting my cousins in different cities, playing with them and watching movies late into the nights, brunches, more outdoor skips and hops and when the boiling sun drove us indoors, how the tangy, icy lemonade pitchers awaited us. April is also about April showers, new beginnings and of late —the month of blogging! I'm excited to announce that I'll be participating in the A-Z April Blogger Challenge , starting on April 1st! This challenge is all about pushing myself to create new content, connect with fellow bloggers, and have immense fun while doing it. Throughout the month, I'll be posting daily(except on Sundays) on a variety of topics, ranging from personal reflections to mixed random bags of thoughts especially bordering on memoirs and non fiction. That's something I excel in apart from writing fantasy and the paranormal. 2025 will see my blog Sanguine Allegory bustling wit...

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 ...

Sangeetha Kamath

Search This Blog