The Good Old Days

The Good Old Days

A Story by Faiza Iqbal
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Not a true story.

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 Maria carefully scrutinized the see-saw which they referred as “the fun thing” when the amateurs didn’t quite know how to define it. They used to love riding it. Be it a breezing Friday morning, a scorching Saturday afternoon or even the tiring evening weekdays, either would work for the little ones to romp on the see-saw. All they needed was a fine mood and a whether without rain and then nothing could stop them from having their endless hours of fun time.

   It lay helplessly in a disguised rusted body. The moment she gave it a second look, her yesterdays picture perfect memories flashed right into her eyes. Tears rolled down her eyes like pouring rain against her eyelids. Maria moved forward and touched the see-saw. The paint fell off like flakes- so dry; so rough. Agony clutched at her heart with eyes still brimmed with tears. It surely went old with time.

   The heavy gust of wind hit her on the face. What a perfect time it was! A beautiful wind plus the sunshine with absolutely no sign of rain. Just the time they used to share!  She remembered on one occasion both Zara and her were riding the see-saw and having ice creams at the same time. Just when they were enjoying the sheer awesomeness of the day with every up and down, a screw went loose in the see-saw and due to lack of balance Maria herself fell on the ground. The next scene observed and enjoyed by Zara was, Maria turning upside down on the grass with melted ice cream spread all over her face, clothes nearly ragged and hair untidily messed up. Although she was a little embarrassed but later both of them laughed their heads off!

   ‘Dear I’m sorry to bother you, but I think you are getting late for your English class.’ Maria turned back and found her mother speaking to her in her softest tone. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’ She replied in a cracked voice. Her mother patted her on the head and left. The sun gave its brightest glow as it showered her with a cherished love. She turned off her camera after taking the last snap of the see-saw �" the place where two souls and minds shared the tiniest chats and love; the place where every happiness where born as every sorrows got erased. She desperately needed few snaps of the see-saw to keep at least some memories of their “fun times.” When a soothing wind blew, she looked up at the sky, took a deep breathe and prayed for Zara’s soul to be rested in peace.

© 2011 Faiza Iqbal


Author's Note

Faiza Iqbal
Feedback are truly welcome. =D

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Featured Review

I think this is a beautiful story... You have me holding back tears. Very emotional read with vivid detail of the scenery, and I love how you captivate... but still left me wondering what happened to Zara? Childhood memories are so bittersweet... Great write!

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

I enjoyed reading it, write more =)

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

It's a great story, and finely written too. I am a big fan of the flashback method of telling stories and yours was spot-on. I hope to read more of your work.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I think this is a beautiful story... You have me holding back tears. Very emotional read with vivid detail of the scenery, and I love how you captivate... but still left me wondering what happened to Zara? Childhood memories are so bittersweet... Great write!

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

i liked it...great write and thanks for sharing

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

:) I like this. I wish I could do things like it. Such significance on these things for children. I enjoyed reading this. If you write more like this I would read them

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on November 21, 2011
Last Updated on November 21, 2011

Author

Faiza Iqbal
Faiza Iqbal

Dhaka, Bangladesh



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Wretched Wretched

A Story by Faiza Iqbal