“But wait, what if she hasn’t left us”
“Honey, I’m sorry. I know you’re upset but we can’t keep her dead carcass here. That’s not right at all.”
The pulsating vibrant blue case from a couple of days ago lay still. But I swear I heard her breathing. It was a little too still; so silent that her breathing began to resemble the hushed tones of the air around us.
“She might start moving again”
“Mama! You don’t know for sure. Just one day more?”
“Let her go, Angelica. It has been an hour. ”
“She might be playing dead! And you’ll wake her up”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous! Let go and hand it over to me will you?”
Now I might never know if she’ll ever return to earth the way Mama promised she would. Her soul might get sucked into another abyss,lose its way, find itself in the vastness of the cold, tyrannical waters. What if she wakes up to find herself, in the teeth of an Orca? But its so dark, so frightening and so quiet beneath us, that there was almost no way of knowing for sure- if she’d make it out alive.
“There, little one. I’ve prayed that you’ll find your wait out of this sand bed, somehow. Stay safe for me, all right?” Gently tucking her into her hospital bed made out of soil, stand and fertilizer, that Mama promised would bring her back to life. Somehow.
“We’ll dig the soil in a year. If we manage to find her, it means she’s dead for good. If we don’t, that means she has been rekindled. And she will find her way back to us, for sure.”
That was the only beacon of hope i had. Even if it meant that i was clinging onto false hope.
//a piece inspired by the death of my shrimp. RIP Pluto.