Lot's Wife Edition 5 2022

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The End Words by Saima Khan Lot’s Wife • Edition Five Content Warning: Mentions of Death and Blood Art by Des Ramjee 16
The crimson sipping into the gravels almost glittered underneath the moonlight. I could vaguely see the outline of my fingers haphazardly twisted, the gold ring standing out among the pool of glittering blood. Wasn’t gold supposed to glitter more, I wondered. It was my mother’s ring; perhaps the only jewellery I have cared for enough to never take off. Would it be taken off now? I won’t quite like that. Mom could tell the doctor to not take it off. Or maybe Dad could. He always has a way around with these things; people listen to him all the time. It would have been nice if they were here. Not really, no. It’s good they are not here. Would have been quite a pity to have to see your daughter struggling to live. I’m not quite sure how much time has passed. An hour? A minute? Is time passing at all? As if to answer my queries, I could suddenly hear the ticks of my watch. It was a Swatch I had bought with my savings from Bangkok- a perfect shade of dirty white with golden numbers that glittered along with the ring and blood. I had called my parents twice before buying it because spending more than fifty dollars on myself felt like a milestone. I’m not quite sure how many ticks I counted- forty? Does that mean forty seconds have passed? That’s how time works right? One tick for one second. How many ticks do I have left? I tried looking around but there was this splitting ache in my head. I wasn’t quite sure if blood was oozing out of my head or hands or both. I think I could feel my toes. That probably means my legs are okay? Well, that’s a relief. Always feared depending upon others while walking. Lot’s Wife • Edition Five 17 The moonlight suddenly became brighter. Almost too bright. Not even the beautiful calm white gleam. Now it was more like a white dazzle. Is that a flashlight? One, two, three... That’s three pairs of feet I’m counting. Is that mom? I hope not. But I remember this pair of Comfit slippers I bought for Mom’s birthday. This particular pair of feet is the nearest. Must be her. I closed my eyes. It was breaktime. I opened my school bag to find a Penguin bar. I loved this chocolate more than anything in the world. I looked around to see the homeroom teacher smiling at me. She had been a perfect person in my head, the only reason I found school bearable. I smiled back at her and turned to take the wrapper off, only to find it being snatched away. Sigh. Not again. I was quite used to this particular boy taking my chocolate away everyday. Not sure why I let it happen. It’s okay. He can have it. I sat down and stared at him eating the chocolate from across the room. I could feel someone pulling me by the shoulder. Is that a doctor? Not likely. Doctors should know better than pulling a dying person’s shoulder. There was a tingling pain in my neck. As my collars brushed against my neck, I could smell my own perfume. The fact that the fragrance could make it through the pungent smell of blood was applaudable. I tried to remember the name of the perfume. Fifth Avenue? Wait, I think I had stopped using it years ago. Eternity? Probably that. I’ve always been obsessed with perfumes. I tend to recall moments with perfumes. How will I remember this moment though? Scent of blood maybe? I probably won’t get to live to remember this moment anyway.
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