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Irony of a question
#WritcoStoryChallenge
The streetlights were dim as the mist enclosed it in its mysterious grip. She peered out of her window into the darkness, was there someone out there or was it her imagination? The power flickered, then slowly, dimmed, but limped back to an anemic survival. The mist lay it damp hands on the windows, turning the outer glass in to an opaque mirror. Visibility was practically non existent. Somewhere far away, the thunder lord announced his displeasure, accompanied by his partner jn crime, Lady Lightning. A storm was coming, and it would be a furious one! Her heart beat a tattoo,as she, impotently, tried to look out at the street outside. It was her daughter's first school trip outside, and it felt as if the universe was conspiring against her. The bus was late, and with the impeding storm, the delay felt like a bad omen. She gulped, trying to push the panic, back to the stomach, where it wrecked havoc. Having a young daughter, to her, was like the Schrodinger's cat. You never know if she is safe - till she is home. A light rain begins to fall, freeing the window from the imprisonment of the mist. She peered out, but the roads were lonely. She glanced at the grandfather's clock, its dial offering her no solace. The bus was now delayed by thirty minutes, and in a weather like this, networks already treacherous in the mountains, were no one' friend. She picked up her phone again, hoping against hope, that the bars would be present, but it was blank as a widow's peak. She flung it down on the window sill, where it lay, forlorn, unable to help his mistress in times of her need. Just then, the corner of the street lit up, announcing a vehicle. Her heart beating, she pressed her nose against the window. It was a bus! Her heart leaped in her mouth, as it negotiated the turn, stopping in front of her gate. She debated if she should watch from the window or go out. Impatience, won through and she flung the door open, running towards the gate. Sweat mixed with rain poured down her face, getting in to her eyes. The bus paused, and as she reached it, the doors were closed. She looked at the bus door, quizzically, expecting them to open, and her daughter step out. New details start to percolate in her anxious brain. The bus was not thr regular bus, in fact, it was not the bus, that had come in the morning. She crossed over approached the driver side of the stationary bus. Just then the bus doors open. She rushes back again, and out steps her daughter. Her daughter looked fine, happy even. "Hello maa!", she trilled,"The bus driver was changed and was fiddling with the bus controls. He couldn't get them opened.". She rolled her eyes, continuing, "We were watching a movie on Naina's phone. It is about a parent whose daughter is kidnapped. I wonder what her parent must be undergoing. What do you think? How would you react?". She just looked at her daughter, in silence.
© Natasha Sharma
The streetlights were dim as the mist enclosed it in its mysterious grip. She peered out of her window into the darkness, was there someone out there or was it her imagination? The power flickered, then slowly, dimmed, but limped back to an anemic survival. The mist lay it damp hands on the windows, turning the outer glass in to an opaque mirror. Visibility was practically non existent. Somewhere far away, the thunder lord announced his displeasure, accompanied by his partner jn crime, Lady Lightning. A storm was coming, and it would be a furious one! Her heart beat a tattoo,as she, impotently, tried to look out at the street outside. It was her daughter's first school trip outside, and it felt as if the universe was conspiring against her. The bus was late, and with the impeding storm, the delay felt like a bad omen. She gulped, trying to push the panic, back to the stomach, where it wrecked havoc. Having a young daughter, to her, was like the Schrodinger's cat. You never know if she is safe - till she is home. A light rain begins to fall, freeing the window from the imprisonment of the mist. She peered out, but the roads were lonely. She glanced at the grandfather's clock, its dial offering her no solace. The bus was now delayed by thirty minutes, and in a weather like this, networks already treacherous in the mountains, were no one' friend. She picked up her phone again, hoping against hope, that the bars would be present, but it was blank as a widow's peak. She flung it down on the window sill, where it lay, forlorn, unable to help his mistress in times of her need. Just then, the corner of the street lit up, announcing a vehicle. Her heart beating, she pressed her nose against the window. It was a bus! Her heart leaped in her mouth, as it negotiated the turn, stopping in front of her gate. She debated if she should watch from the window or go out. Impatience, won through and she flung the door open, running towards the gate. Sweat mixed with rain poured down her face, getting in to her eyes. The bus paused, and as she reached it, the doors were closed. She looked at the bus door, quizzically, expecting them to open, and her daughter step out. New details start to percolate in her anxious brain. The bus was not thr regular bus, in fact, it was not the bus, that had come in the morning. She crossed over approached the driver side of the stationary bus. Just then the bus doors open. She rushes back again, and out steps her daughter. Her daughter looked fine, happy even. "Hello maa!", she trilled,"The bus driver was changed and was fiddling with the bus controls. He couldn't get them opened.". She rolled her eyes, continuing, "We were watching a movie on Naina's phone. It is about a parent whose daughter is kidnapped. I wonder what her parent must be undergoing. What do you think? How would you react?". She just looked at her daughter, in silence.
© Natasha Sharma
