روايات وقصص ضمن You Were Born Reaching For Your Mother's Hand

*Ember* It burned. My hands burned as though I’d stuck them in fire. I sobbed in pain, calling out for my mother. I pulled my hands back towards me, but that didn’t stop the pain. Looking down, I could see it was my hands that were the problem—they were glowing blindingly bright and burning themselves! Screaming, I tried to find my mother, my hands the only light in the darkness. Finally, her smiling face appeared. “Mama!” I cried. “Mama, it hurts! IT HURTS!!!”

Her mother lay pale against the pillows, tubes and wires surrounding her fragile frame. The sight stole Amara’s breath. She rushed forward, clutching her mother’s hand. “Mama… it’s me. I’m here.” Her mother’s eyes fluttered open, weak but filled with love. “Amara…” Her voice was faint, but the smile she tried to give was warm. Tears blurred Amara’s vision. She bent low, pressing her forehead to her mother’s hand. “Don’t leave me, Mama. Please. I’m not ready.”

“This was the real beginning.” Five words in my mother's handwriting and the floor was still somewhere beneath my feet but I couldn't feel it, I just stood in the dim entrance hall of a building I had never consciously entered and stared at a photograph of myself holding hands with a man I wasn't supposed to have met yet.

"Let the light version die.⁠ L‍et the baby g⁠o. In the deep, we c​a‌n rule thi‍s​ city t⁠ogether.‍ No deb‌ts. No archi​ves. Just⁠ p​ower." ⁠I felt‍ my l‍ungs burning. I needed t‌o breathe. I​ loo‌ked a‍t the baby again.⁠ He was‌ so close. I reache‌d out, my finge⁠rs stretchi‍ng until they hurt. I am not⁠ a monst⁠er, I though​t. I am a m‍other.⁠

I felt myself crushing some flowers under me but I didn’t care about that. I pushed myself up to my knees and I could see that my mommy was walking away from me. She was going to leave me behind again. I don’t want her to leave me behind. The world is so empty without her by my side. I reach out my hand toward her and I notice how small my hand was, like a child…

I tried to scream out but my voice was nothing but a groan and a high-pitched squeak. "NOOO!" I tried to yell out as I reached my hand out for my mother, ""STOP" My breath whispered as I watched the life being drained out of her. "PLEASE!" I tried to move my legs, my feet.... I tried to reach out to her to make them stop, to save her but she was too far and just as always....fear was crippling me.

"Embrace your strengths." As she spoke, a melody floated around us, soft and familiar, enveloping me in gentle warmth. It was the song my mother used to hum whenever childhood illnesses threatened to steal my light. The girl stroked my hair with tender fingers, echoing the way my mother had done countless times, and in that moment, everything felt painfully real. It was no longer a dream. I could feel the weight of her hand, the touch of her fingertips against my scalp like a caress from a treasured memory.

Ciara said. She took hold of Aunt Mary’s hand tenderly as she always did and caressed the top of her palm. Her hand was fragile, frail and almost too cold for comfort, but it reminded Ciara of her own mother. When her mother had been sick, she had also held her mother’s hand at night and hoped that her mother would get stronger and better, because she was the only one that Ciara had at that time.

I couldn't take seeing mom smile helplessly just wanting to touch me. “Mom. I couldn't breathe,” I told her almost losing myself. She smiled at me while slowly her hands dropped as she shut her eyes close. I was crying and screaming like a retarded. “NOONA! WAKE UP! MOMMMM! NO! YOU’RE ALIVE! I KNOW YOU ARE!!” I cried really wanting to touch her lifeless hands. I took a lot of energy to reach and strengthen my hands and grab mom’s hand. She's still warm. She's still alive.

Clear drops fell on my hands, still pressed firmly to her shirt. My white skin was absorbing the red and staining them with a rich crimson, but I really didn't care. My voice was cracking again and my words were barely distinguishable. My body was starting to shake from the abundance of liquid that was leaving my eyes, but my hands stayed immobile in their spot. I lowered my voice to a whisper now. The desperation in my voice was almost pathetic. “Mom, please. For me. Stay for me.” An arm snaked around my waist and lifted me off the ground, raising me from my dying mother. I thrashed and scratched, kicking at the form behind me in hopes it would let me go.