Tale Weaver – #237 – 22nd August – Weeds
By Neel Anil Panicker
The flowers were blooming, and the bees kissed them every now and then. The bearers of such lovely lilac and purple trumpet shaped flowers didn’t might a wee bit at this intrusion.
In fact they more than welcomed it as multitudinous greyish brown branches spread out canopy shaped to embrace the new visitors, the delicate leaves gently swaying and fanning the passion drunk bees as the buzzed around merrily making what else but a bumble bee of boisterous noises.
How beautiful are the ways of Nature, wondered Stella as she watched in wonderment at this gay play of Nature from her vantage third floor window.
The sheer joy that birthed in her heart ran helter skelter through her body sensing tingling waves of sheer pleasure, ultimately escaping through her lips in the form of a beatific smile than ran the length and breadth of her cheeks now flushed in pink hues.
At the instant, something stirred beside her.
She turned to her right only to see Mary, her alter ego smiling at her.
There was something eerie about that smile, and as she looked into the robotic, stony crater like eyes of her bete noire, at the sheer plasticity of her intricately braided coiffure, a wave of sheer mind numbing pain ran down her spine sending her heart beats racing like a fast car hurtling down a highway with its brakes having failed.
A moment later Stella’s world turned dark and just as she lost consciousness the words her dead sister smashed through her skull crushing her brains to smithereens.
All her brain could register were the words… ‘sister…weeds…suicide…punishment…hell’.
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