The Gift
The piggy bank lay upside down, coins and notes piled on the bed.
“Mumma!” Avika hollered.
Her mother’s eyes widened at the mess. “Why’s your piggy bank empty?”
Avika shivered, rubbing her arms. “Doctor,” she whispered, stuffing cash into her pencil pouch.
Mumma touched Avika’s forehead. “Are you cold?”
“No. Ayesha-doctor.”
Mumma stiffened. The watchman’s daughter had been burning with fever for weeks. He’d begged for help, but she’d turned him away, hoping someone–anyone-among the other 400 residents would help instead. Life as a single mother to a specially-abled child was hard enough.
“Mumma,” Avika tugged her hand, racing to the watchman’s cabin. She banged until the door creaked open, a wiry figure looming. Beaming, she thrust the pouch into his trembling hands. “Ayesha-doctor.”
“Madam ji?” he rasped.
“How’s Ayesha?” Mumma asked, clutching Avika’s soft hands.
Tears spilled from his red-rimmed eyes. “Ayesha wanted a pink lace frock—I thought I would get it for her 7th birthday. Now, thanks to Avika baby, she will have it sooner.” He sank to the floor, the pouch slipping from his hands, tears streaking his hollow cheeks. “Anyway, my baby would never ask me for anything. Ever again.”
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This 198 word story is my submission for a monthly writing contest conducted by Beyond the Box. The prompt required writers to weave a story using 3 random objects. I opted for a door, piggy bank, and frock.
