Starlitskies

Sri Lanka

She/Her
17
INTJ
Reader and Writer
Feminist
Coder

Go check out my WtW twin sister Zirong! She's amazing!

Scribble Chums with remi'sgotinkstains, useless :) and em wilder.

est. 26 Oct 2020

Message from Writer

"They call us dreamers, but we're the ones who don't sleep"

"My words sound better coming from my hands than from my mouth."
(Trust me it does.)

Currently reading: This beautiful novel about love, friendship and finding oneself.... oh who am I kidding? Biology text book it is!

Book recs are always welcome whether it's fiction, poetry, self help or any other genres.

Don't hesitate to ask for reviews. Just comment on one of my pieces and I promise I'll get back to you. I refuse to grow alone.

Secrets

November 16, 2020

In all my memories of Mama, she's bent among the flowers in our garden and yet, she never struck me as a flower-person.

"It's for Papa, Cham" I remember her saying once, when I'd asked her why she spent so many of her hours in the garden. 

"But Mama, Papa doesn't use the flowers right." 

She smiled, tucking a golden strand of hair behind her ear. In the soft morning sunlight that filled the garden, her hair was summery and alight, falling in ebullient curls around her face.

"Well, then tell me, what's the right way?" 

"You have to make them pretty in vases."

We didn't own any vases, so Mama took down a tall glass for me and I went around the garden picking flowers. It stood on the kitchen table that day, holding seven daisies and gerbera. That was the only time the flowers in the garden served the purpose of art. It's not that they weren't important. They were, but instead of being praised for their aesthetic beauty, Papa assessed their petals for their botanical beauty.

Papa worked as a botanist and the garden was a consecration to his career. All throughout my childhood he was searching for something. Something he'd lost between the soft petals of roses, peonies, daisies, gerberas and all the other blossoms I could never name. It seemed to me, he never found the lost treasure, but he stopped his search when Mama died.

It was Mama's birthday today and a muffled sadness weighed down on me. Just as it had everyday, for the past ten years since I'd lost her. A lazy morning unfurled beyond the windows, and I stared at it while the hairbrush fought through my curls. 

"Cham! Come here for a minute." Papa's voice traveled down the corridor.

My hands wrestled my hair into a ponytail as I left the bedroom. I'd always wondered why my parents decided to put an 'h' in my name when it was pronounced 'Cam', but by the time I thought to ask, Mama was gone and Papa just said they liked it that way. 

"Good morning, sweetheart." He said, kissing my forehead.

"Good morning, Papa" I answered back. He smelled like breakfast and perfume. Usually, he started dressing for work after I'd left for school.

"You're going to work early today?" My eyes scanned his red, plaid shirt.

"Cham, sit down for a bit" My question went unanswered. He beckoned at the kitchen table with anxious eyes. I had no clue what was going on. I rummaged though my mind as I sat down opposite him. Had I done something wrong? 

"I have something to give you." he said, surprising me. "Something that belonged to Veronica."

At the mention of Mama's name, my heartbeat quickened from the already accelerated pace it was beating in. Papa never said her name out loud. At least not to me. Maybe the closeness to her name hurt him, made her loss more real. Maybe he felt the same I did, the wound never healing despite the years. 

On the table, he placed a small, black box. It stood out against the light texture of the wood. With trembling hands I reached for the box and flipped it open on its hinges. Nestled in its padded interior was a silver, four-petaled flower, studded with an amethyst at the centre. A pendant.

I could feel Papa's intent gaze on me, waiting for my reaction. Was I supposed to thank him? 

"Thank you, Papa." I smiled at him. "It's beautiful."

He sighed in relief and the worry in his eyes gave way into a smile. When he smiled like this, I could see why Mama had fallen for him. I'd say he was handsome in his own peculiar way.

"Well, I'm glad you like it." He said, rising from the table.

The more I stared at the pendant, the more of its details I began to uncover. I noticed the soft lines etched into the four petals, deeper near the stone and fading away towards the tips. It was beautiful.

"Your mother never got to wear it." I heard Papa in the background. "It would've looked good on her."

I tilted the box towards the window and the light glinted off the pendant, all too familiar. Something flashed in my mind.

"I've seen this before." I gasped. Papa looked at me.

"What?" 

"I've seen this before."

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen Mama wearing this!" I stood up, the chair screeching behind me.

"She hasn't even seen it, Cham." 

Papa's voice was rising. I remembered now, like a dream, that night we met Mama. After her funeral. 

"No, she has. On that day, when we met her off the highway. After her funeral." 

I sounded ridiculous. 

"Listen to yourself, Cham! That makes no sense! It must've been a dream."

"How can I dream this up without seeing it before?" I shrieked, gesturing at the pendant.

"Would you just calm d-"

"No, Papa-"

"Listen to me!" He shouted. "You're mistaken. Your mother died before she even saw it."

He left with that punch to my gut, his breakfast untouched. I stood unmoving and my eyes rested on the amethyst; dark and purple. I saw a hazy scene in my head of Mama and Papa. I was sitting in the car and they were outside, talking in the yellow glow of a streetlamp.

I remember Mama opening the door and kissing me on my forehead. And I remember, ever so clearly, the light glinting off the pendant she was wearing around her neck. The pendant I was holding now. She whispered something in my ear then.

And with a jolt I remember what it was. 

"Stay with Papa, Cham. I'll be back. I promise."

Maybe that's why I never got over her death. All along, I knew Mama was alive. 
Word Count: 978
Final Draft

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6 Comments
  • don't you see the starlight (#TS)

    Re: tysm! i just love the idea of seeing music in colors (like someone with synesthesia might.) and yes, please do update me when you publish more!


    10 months ago
  • don't you see the starlight (#TS)

    WHOA THIS IS INSANELY GOOD! Congrats on the mention! I love the style and the homey feel of this. And now I need more!


    10 months ago
  • SunV

    Ahhhhhhh! Can you write more of this? I love it!

    And congratulations on the mention!


    10 months ago
  • AmethystsAlias

    Re: Lol, thanks! I'm so glad you enjoyed the short story! Maybe sometime soon I might write a part three, but I'm rather lazy... if you wanted, you could write your own version! You obviously do not have to, but if you did, I'd be thrilled to see what you came up with!


    10 months ago
  • BlueWolf (Semi Hiatus)

    Cool! Let me know if there are any changes :) !


    10 months ago
  • BlueWolf (Semi Hiatus)

    I really love this! Must know more!! :) The way you describe everything and the way it flows is amazing! Awesome job!


    11 months ago