A blemish in white

ISH IN

OL

a

t comes to life, we spin our own yarn and where we end

ore the fresh grave of my mother the late Norah Ella Fitcherburt Joans. An atmosphere of sad melancholy

int where it all started and the story behind my mothe

tale forgotten by the wor

as a genius and made big name after he graduated from a renowned university of New York. He was a doctor and mom worked as an assistant m

so had decided to move back into town. I was not very thrilled with the decision at first; I mean who can blame me. I had to leave my whole life there in New York at the tender age of eig

own, but it never did in Beckworth. My grandparents told me that it used to snow in Beckworth about a decade or two ago, but one day it ju

then, playing around with the kids in the neighbourhood there. My mot

I felt there was something more to it than that. And then the red scarf she wore around her neck ever

back it was to see my mother on her death bed. My father called me one evening; it was a brisk glum call. He

irl that got separated from her parents in the local to

tature. Her skin had gone pale and her eyes had shrunk into her sockets. I could see that she was sick. Very very sick. But her beautiful grey eyes t

cooed. Her cute, hor

aged a smile. "H

e tried to crack a joke.

chless, I guess. And the unconscious flowing tears didn't hel

thered me into a warm hug as we

the inky sky. The atmosphere was calm but, in some way, uncanny. As if I was breathing an

her natural fair skin had sunken in tone to something so lifeless it scared me just to look at her. And all I could do wa

rees. Almost nothing had changed here. I had absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants that revived my early days. But it was just a de

your eyes off to the world and reality." A shrill grating voice suddenly startled me. I turne

had no idea how she could see in this ominous darkness, but her aged beady eyes were fo

ffixed on me. She wore a bleach black cotton dress and her powder-white hair half hidden away

er to the woman, so I spoke fr

She hummed, "It is e

ma'am. What do you me

ell you this, the world is not as simple as it s

what was she even talking about? She still had her head hung lo

ng to think my dear." She chuckled again and I had m

feel right to me, and I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. Well at least

ther still have the red scarf

y eyes wide and astounded, how in God's name did this woman know

ound in my head making me almo

me an amiable smile, but I wasn't buying it. "You do

r I was ready to bite or not. I eyed her suspiciously, "

time." She smiled knowingly. "The

upon a time it was a faded white, but now it was just a smokey grey piece of binding, cracked and dry with age. What remained o

curiosity and flipped open the book. The frail pages felt soft and delicate as I ran m

night. I looked up to see the murky sky, my breath pale against the numbing air. I blinked in bafflement as t

peculiarities that were occurring

t is the conspiracy of the Universe to bring forth this part

rough the first page and then I blinked. And everything was a blur. Words appeared and disappeared across me, altering into images an

tinued...