Short-story

Mother and I

Published

3 years ago

January 24, 2022

Akshara Singh
Grade – 8
Kothari International School,
Noida

“Mother, didn’t you promise to bring me a bunny from Mr Arbor? Please, Mother, I wish to have my little one like I am to you!” I say demandingly and take to the floor, tears flowing like waterfalls out of my pearls, as my mother called my eyes, thinking mother would feel for me and do as I please.

Instead, however, I fall prey to Mother’s stern gaze as she looks at me wide-eyed, not with horror but with a warning that I feel like I must heed. In a trance, I get back up to my feet, and it is as if Mother has held me tightly, and I cannot escape even if I would have tried. I’m a big girl; I can do it. But maybe another day. I can never tell what Mother is thinking; she always looks the same. She has a resting, peaceful face that doesn’t look very happy, which keeps me on edge. She reassures me by rubbing my back with her long, freezing fingers, and I always look up at her frosty blue eyes and smile as big as I can, so she knows I love her too. She’s all I have, and I’m all she has.

Though Mother doesn’t speak, I can always make out what she wants me to do. Her voice is coarse and feathery, and it carries the wind with her. On the rare occasion she speaks to me, my pigtails flail in the air and become shabby as the wind she carries along with her jokes. I look at her in a heartbeat with tears glistening in my eyes and my gaze a blur, and she soothes me as if to say, “Do not worry my little one. I’ll make you new and better ones.” And she never fails to do so. She gives me plenty of work to do these days, but it’s never a nuisance. I love feeling important in Mother’s eyes and making use of myself as I usually sit in front of our window staring out at other people who look like Mother and me. Incredibly, they can talk to each other.

She held my hand tight, tighter than usual. I shake my head in disappointment at myself. ‘Of course, she’s furious because I decided to cry like an infant even though we both know that I am all grown now!” In retrospect, I am not sure why I did so either. It was as if a reflex had been activated in me.

“Never do that ever again, Little one.” I feel a gulp in my throat as I know I am about to cry even more complex. Mother has never been this frightful. “I never want to see your pearls fill up with tears again. They’re precious, so do not waste them, darling.” She says as if to redeem herself. But the damage is done. I wait for her to slam our rickety old wooden door as she leaves, and I am all alone again.

Saying I despise being alone would be an understatement. I have to see other little clay dolls who looks naïve like me. They reside in a hole under our feet! It is beyond my understanding how Mother finds more like me. It never fails to dishearten me, though, since Mother always reminds me, I am the only one to walk this Earth and that there is no one else like me, but she brings a new little one almost every day. There’s always a little less colour, a little less red on their faces. Why? I know better than to ask Mother about it.

I lift open the remaining Earth that covers their house, I assume. It is much smaller than ours, and they never prance around theirs as I do. Do they not like it? Then, finally, I see one that looks like me. She looks more like me than I do. Her eyes are like Mother, which draws me to her. But hers are more unwelcoming and emotionless. I cannot make out if she wants to talk to me. So I go; either way, she could need a friend like me.

“Welcome!” I say, putting my hand forth, though I, myself, am not sure what the purpose of it is. I have seen Mother do it when she meets others that look like her, and I wish to be just like her. I frown a little when she doesn’t respond. She gasps on air as soon as I look down at my feet in despair and jerk my head up. I look around my surroundings and realise I am much closer to her than I thought. I need to be less careless! She has rusty skin and dirt all over her face. I know Mother doesn’t like it when anything from the ground touches her face, so I reckon she doesn’t either. I rush over and brush off the dirt from her face. As I turn to stand farther away, she grabs my hand tight. Tighter than Mother has ever held it before. I’m not too fond of it. I feel tired and lethargic; my knees start to wobble and lose motion as I fall to the ground. “What’s happening to me? Where is Mother-” My world goes dark in the middle of my sentence, and I drop in the embrace of soft, cool mud.

Still heavy and confused, my eyes glare off in the distance to see what looks like Mother! Without even being able to see correctly, I attempt to shout out to her. It doesn’t work. Why? My eyes shift back to focus as I see me, as in myself or someone that looks exactly like me, stand next to Mother. I scream and yell and shout to get Mother’s attention as she hands a bunny, my bunny, to the imposter. A mother embraces her; she kisses her forehead as she would mine. I begin to get frustrated and howl but to no avail. I shift my gaze to my hands; they are like porcelain and much paler. I do not look like myself. Mother, she is not your little one; I am! Why won’t you hear my cries?

(Photo Courtesy Sandy Millar- Unsplash)

Short-story

Fury of Tomato

Published

1 year ago

August 16, 2023

VOV Writer

Advika Bhatnagar
Shikshantar School, Gurugram
Grade 3

Alice, a nine-year-old boy, lived in the countryside of Tinseltown with his Granny. He was a stubborn and edgy child. He liked to eat whatever he wanted and didn’t care much about Granny’s words. This made the old lady very sad.

“Granny, Granny, hunger pangs! I want pizza and chocolate ice cream for dinner,” said Alice

“Wait, child, I’m making delicious chicken soup, healthy multigrain bread, and a fresh salad,” answered Granny.

Alice got angry when he saw salad on the dining table. He yelled, “Again, cucumber, bell pepper, carrot, and tomato. Is that what I will eat? “No, no, no, never, not at all. No dinner tonight.” Granny got worried and left the house to get his favourite food.

Alice was all alone. In anger, he picked up the tomato and threw it at the wall. The red pulp of the tomato almost covered the mid-wall. He was shocked to see the pulp turning into a monster.

“Ha, Ha, Ha, you stubborn boy. Every day I see you trouble your Granny for food. When you hit me against the wall today, I felt hurt. I will teach you a lesson. I am the new king of vegetables. I rule the meals,” said the tomato monster. And then the monster followed him everywhere in the room.

Alice was so scared that he was running in different directions. Sitting under the table, he quietly prayed, “Oh God, please save me from this deadly monster.”

Alice rushed to his Granny’s room, wears her hat and robe. He picks up the embroidered, favourite napkin of the Granny and moves slowly towards the wall. He wipes the tomato pulp, and the monster disappears right away.

Alice gets the lesson of his life to value all food. He vows to take care of Granny, as her belongings protect him. When she was back, he hugged her and said, “I love you so much. I will eat whatever you cook for me.”

The writer attended Takhte Writers & Publishers’ Story Writing Writeshop at Kalasthali, Gurugram.

Photo Courtesy – Andre Taissin (xRUJcUTEp6Y) Unsplash

Short-story

#Anecdotes of India@75

Published

2 years ago

June 2, 2022

VOV Writer

India, an enigmatic and epochal country, has an unparalleled and flourishing cultural legacy, which we are proud to represent. It is steadfast and unyielding, and it will never be lost to future generations. This year marks the 75th anniversary of India’s independence.

Writers are synonymous with bringing about a renaissance, whether literary or social; they function as negotiators to mediate the country’s social and cultural difficulties and, at times, become reformists. They have a legendary imagination, a distinct voice, flawless creative control of wordplay, and the ability to represent reality.

Takhte Writers & Publishers in collaboration with StoryMirror launch the literary contest ‘Anecdotes of India@75′

‘Anecdotes of India@75’ acknowledge the unacknowledged. It could be a person or an incident adding to national ethos, and you as a writer feel that others should know about it. So, start thinking, exploring and writing it in a stimulating story.

Rules:

Participants have to submit their content on the above theme.
Winners will be decided on the basis of editorial scores.
Participants should submit their original content. There is no limit to the number of content to be submitted.
There is no word limit.
There is no participation fee.

Categories: Story

Languages: English, Hindi

Prizes:

Top 2 winners will be felicitated with the Coffee Table Book of Rs2500/- authored by Takhte Writers
Top 20 winners in each language will be published in an ebook by StoryMirror.
Winners will receive digital certificates of appreciation.
All participants will receive a digital participation certificate.

Submission phase – May 29, 2022, to June 28, 2022

Declaration of Result: August 11, 2022

Contact:
Email: takhtevov@gmail.com
Phone/ WhatsApp: +91 9311845524

Short-story

Twisha and Alex on Moon

Published

3 years ago

April 18, 2022

VOV Writer

Reyaansh Bhardwaj
Scottish High International School
Gurugram
Grade 4

Alex was in his science lab carrying out his usual experiments. But, this time, he had thought of making a robot, which he wanted to gift to King Andrew during his birthday celebration. At that moment, Twisha came into the lab with Oreo.

Twisha, a year younger than Alex, is a sweet, pretty and short-tempered cousin. She asked Alex about his new experiment and shared her thoughts about going to the Moon.

Alex said, “Wow! Moon. I know you always wanted to go there. However, right now, going to the moon is more like a dream as we do not have a spacecraft. One day, I will take you to the moon”.

“One day! Seriously Alex. It doesn’t seem that near now. I surely want to go now,” said Twisha.

“Oh, Twisha! Don’t lose heart. I just remembered that Dr Peter is a Rocket scientist. He lives in the U.S.A, and I’ll talk to him about it,” said Alex.

Twisha replied, “Don’t make it tough. I will take you there.”

Alex was wonderstruck and astonished and teased her, “You are not a scientist. Are you a magician? HA HA HA HA HA HA.”

Twisha frowned. Seeing her annoyed, Alex said, “Ok, ok, so when are we going? How are we going? For how long are we going? What are we taking along?

Oreo heard the word going. He whined as if he should not be forgotten in their plans.

Twisha replied, “So many questions in one go. Bro, relax. We’ll go after two days on the full moon night.“

Twisha patted Oreo and said, “My Lil pup, I’m sorry you can’t go this time, but I’ll treat you with your favourite bone and peanut butter.”

As planned, on the full moon night, they both go on the terrace; Twisha asks Alex to lie down on the spread carpet. It was attractive, multicoloured with stars on it

Alex gets grumpy, “Are you serious. Is this your plan? Just lying down, and we’ll reach the Moon.”

“Have patience, this carpet has magical powers, and it will take us to the moon,” said Twisha. Her mind is burdened and overworking how to calm Alex and end his curiosity. Then, as in a trance-like state, she can take him and bring him back quickly.

Twisha picks up the crystal ball and asks him to focus on it and take deep breaths.

In no time, Alex exclaims, “Wowww! We have finally landed. It’s giant. Twisha, you know other names of Moon, its Luna, Selena or say Artemis. Moon is the only natural satellite of our planet and the second brightest object in the sky after the sun. Any object on the Moon will weigh six times less than on Earth. It rests on the tallest mountain, the Mons Huygens. Twisha, you would have read too, that Neil Armstrong was the first person to set foot on the Moon.”

Alex, for hours, kept gaping and looking around in awe. He is surprised that Twisha has not spoken and asks her, “Hey! Why are you not saying anything? You also know so much. So you should share your learnings.”

Twisha giggles and pats Alex’s shoulder, “Hey, Bro, how are you doing? I think you completely enjoyed your visit to the Moon.” Alex rubbed his eyes and looked at her with his mouth open.

Photo Courtesy – aron-visuals-unsplash