Each evening, as I cart my bullocks out of our corn fields and onto the dusty path that leads us home, I hear two familiar voices. At a few hundred metres from my fields, those two come into sight – that cheery young lad and his shy, golden-voiced lady love. I don’t know what she looks like, but I like to believe she is very beautiful.
As we pass them by, we hear them whisper sweet nothings. I have often seen them touch each other shyly. They’re unworldly, with a glow on their faces, and never in a hurry to return home. I have often seen them sitting there even after sundown, and the affection they share tells me they’re yet to get married.
It was a terrifying shock for me hence, when I discovered one evening that they had disappeared. I stood undecided for a while, then got off the bullock cart and climbed up the slope to reach the spot where they usually sat. Today, there was no sign of human presence here. I was about to leave when I saw it – a broken, bloodied anklet.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. The village was agog with stories of the missing couple. I had kept the broken anklet with me, since it reminded me of the girl. I couldn’t bear to give it to the police.
The following evening, I was on my way back home again, dejected that there would be no more pleasant distraction en route. Suddenly, a gentle hand tapped my shoulder. I turned around – and there she was.
“Give me my anklet, please?”
I still see them each evening, on my way home. I hurry my bulls and try not to look in their direction, but I still hear their giggling voices, ebullient with love.
About the Author: Megha Nayar is a Communications Professional employed with Zivene Design & Development Pvt Ltd, a design company based in Ahmedabad. This Flash Fiction story was submitted for our Paranormal Romance contest.