That Night in the Woods

NOAH

I was only 3 years old when my dad killed my mom. It was more of an accident; he unintentionally left the stove open. The LPG particles kept dashing out through the holes of the stovetop; the moment mom lit up her scented candle, tiny flares transformed into a blaze that grasped the appearance of a galactic fire roaring at the lake before it. Jenny and I were squabbling about who would get the chance to throw the ball for Coco first, as she stood beside me wagging her tail avidly, expecting any one of us to pitch the ball in the air at any moment for her to tail.

Dad perceived fumes rushing out of the window of our lake house from hundred yards. He hurriedly sprinted towards the house and unbolted the door, only to discover an inferno that had engulfed the entire residence from inside and was dashing towards the rooftop. Mom was scarcely visible to dad’s sight. He was continuously crying her name at the top of his lungs and strived to breach the barrier of flames a couple of times but failed to get in.

It took thirty minutes for the firefighters to exterminate the flames. Mom gave up the ghost on the spot; she laid lifeless before our eyes. The sheets of her skin sloughed off her body; the blackened chunks of flesh were endlessly smoldering, the blood bubbling as it oozed out of her veins. Jenny burst into tears following a glimpse at mom’s body; dad seemed to refuse to recognize the reality and shattered into shards when he became aware of the cause of the fire. I stood adjacent to mom with parched eyes wide open; I wanted to move; I tried not to look at her, but it felt like I no longer could control my body. I was terrified, numb, traumatized all at once, and then I suffered tinnitus for a couple of minutes before losing consciousness.

Dad abandoned the idea of ever going back to the lake house, but Jenny and I got it renovated and hired a caretaker to look after that house. It was one of the places that mom cherished the most, and there I stood before it after losing everything, precisely 25 years later. Marley, the caretaker, had left 2 years ago. I never bothered to hire someone else. The seal was broken. I stepped forward meticulously, making the most effort to make little to no sound. It felt like the air was different inside, uncanny, throwing that traumatic event in front of my eyes scene by scene. I juddered my head and proceeded; the sound of shutting and opening cabinets flew into my ears. I advanced towards the kitchen.

"Mom?"

I swallowed. My heart began pumping rapidly. I was scared and eager to see what she looks like now. She had gotten skinnier.

That lavender scent she always used, engulfed me. It was Jenny's favorite too. She had her floral dress on; its flounce concealed her ankles, leading to a gash that stretched to the bridge of her left foot.

That was strange. I never saw a wound on her foot like that before. My mind wasn't looking for an explanation. It didn't bother to think that how am I seeing her. How was she standing before my naked eyes? 

I just knew she was there. And I was glad that my mother stood before me. 

She stopped. Stood steady. Then turned around, stepped back an inch, stumbled upon a metal can, and plunged to the ground. In a rush, the words tumbled out of her mouth.

“Wait! I can explain.”

That wasn't my mother. I crinkled my eyes as my heart skipped a beat. Mom's gone, Noah. I told myself.

On the ground sat a girl with hazel eyes. A Series of freckles ran from the left zygomatic bone through the nasal bone to the right zygomatic bone. She had sea-nymph ears and a dainty nose, all set on an alabaster diamond-shaped face. I offered her my hand; that wound on her heel was still fresh. She jumped to her feet on her own and helped herself to the couch.

“Who’re you?” 

“It rained heavily yesterday and this morning; I had nowhere to go to, so I broke the seal and got in.”

“You don't have a home?”

“No …”

My sight fell on the blood oozing out of the wound on her heel. I kept on questing myself. I was so stupid to believe the fact that mom was standing right in front of me. I missed her. I needed to see her, to talk to her, one last time. I needed to tell her that I was left alone. That I no longer had Jenny, or dad by my side. She probably knows that. 

The girl gazed at me. Or at the tears building in my eyes.

“I will get you something to clean it up.” I gestured towards her foot.

I climbed up the staircase and went to Jenny’s room to grab the first aid kid from my suitcase. I stepped in and couldn’t hold back my tears as I laid my eyes on mom, gazing at the lake and twinkling at the giggles of Jenny and dad. I proceeded to nudge her; she turned to dust and dissolved into the air in a flash. As soon as I flashed back to reality, I grabbed the first aid box and climbed down the stairs.

As I handed her the cotton and Pyodine, she lightly brushed the cotton soaked in medicine over the wound. That wasn’t enough to clean it out.

“May I?”

She shook her head and pressed the cotton harder this time, so the medicine will ooze into the wound.

“What can I help you with?”

“I was looking for something to eat.”

“Um … we don’t have any food here; you can stay for a while; I’ll get you something.”

“You don’t have to...”

I glanced at her; in the fullness of time, I hadn’t felt condolence for anyone but her.

“It’s alright… I insist.”

I exited the house, nothing was visible, till the farthest point my vision ran, except for the dense greenery. I contemplated the lake, expecting any fish. My brain took a trip down the memory lane when dad trained us about the correct technique of catching a fish. Lay the whole piece of cloth over the surface of the water, hold the two corners of it tightly with the tip of your fingers firmly, and bide your time until the fish is in the middle of the cloth. When it approaches the center, briskly seize all the other sides and pull it out of the water.