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  • Writer's pictureRuchi Singh

Bronze Dust

#AtoZChallenge – Flash fiction based on life’s philosophy or mood or emotions, interpreted using colours.

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Tired, wrinkled hand fisted the brown soil—hard and dry—one last time and smeared it on his forehead asking for forgiveness from mother Earth–the giver for not being able to sustain, from his ancestors for not being able to save the land. The postman had graciously written the letter to the village elders, they would know what to do. With a heavy heart and on frail feet he stood up, taking the help of his cane and moved to his hut in the corner of the village.

He packed the meager belongings neatly onto the dirty, torn sheet, which was a gift from his wife’s parents on their marriage.  She was gone now, free of the burdens of life, free from the malady and pain. He was happy she was not a witness to his failure, his inability to pay the farmer’s debt. But his daughter would be happy married in a good home, the thought brought him peace and courage.

Slow and steady he got on to the wooden stool and then on the earthern-pot he had arranged upside down. Standing straight he held the rope hanging from the log above. He hoped the villagers would follow his wishes and would unite him with the mother earth, embracing the bronze dust, never to be separated.

All that remained in his heart was this last hope as he kicked the pot away. _____________________________________________________________

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