Munest Mametr Mvallo | Merry Mother's Eve

[meowcelina 222]

MUNEST MAMETR MVALLO

 

 

A SHORT STORY PENNED BY

Dorothea Isabel Barbanov-Bihar

10th day of Tov ag Yermey of 424 ES

 

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Here, I sit with my mother on the hillsides of Vidaus, where she proudly raises me. I met her eyes, so full of love, and her lips tugged upwards like aged parchment, which I could only help to mirror.

“Have you eaten today?” Asked she.

“Yes,” I replied with the nod of my head. My stomach rumbled and roared, but I wouldn’t dare to worry her any.

 

Our eyes scoured the valley, where the cattle and sheep grazed. Those wheatfields, tall grass, and trees that towered above it all. Neither of us say anything for a while, until eventually I chirp out, “What is your favourite colour?” Still gazing over what feels like the seventh sky.

But her eyes were fixed on me, and replied, “Green, of course.”
“Mine has to be pink, though green is good.”

 

Silence swept over us after that, but it was louder than any words could describe. Within my sight, I noticed the rapids; a wild river that streamed behind Vidaus. An arm was draped around me, and I was tugged closer to her. Head now resting on her shoulder, my eyes closed. Nothing needed to be said. Her actions spoke over any words she may say.

 

“Take care of your father for me,” she abruptly spoke.

“What?”

 

My eyes groggily fluttered, before I was able to keep them open and scan around desperately for my mother. The only thing in reach was her grave, stony and still. The flowers that sprouted from her soil wave to me in the wind, and I am hit with the sudden realisation that none of it was real.

 

May her soul find rest.

 

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BY BONES AND BARROWS,

Her Royal Highness, Dorothea Isabel Barbanov-Bihar, Princess of Hanseti-Ruska, Dowager-Duchess of Schattenburg

Edited May 31, 2022 by meowcelina