The sky was pearly grey and it was drizzling incessantly.Daisy was long gone to the market so that she could buy groceries for them. Shortly after Peter had started reading a book there was a knock on the door. The orphanage minister came to their house but discovered that there was no one in the house apart from the boy who ran away. Taking advantage of Daisy’s absence, he grabbed Peter, laughed and exclaimed, ‘Finally! you made me work hard. It’s payback time’.
The man carried him mercilessly , ignoring the screams of the boy. The scream manifesting the pain within, confusion. His skin craved the comfort of his mother, he knew she was nowhere close. He needed her scent, the movement of her body and the feeling of her presence.
When they reached the orphanage, he was made aware of the new head in the Orphanage. Mr Russell was his name.’Oh, you look miserable! Tell me the truth. You do not prefer dwelling here I assume’.
‘Yes’, he replied and continued,’ I wish to live with my mama. Her name is Daisy’.
‘Alright, we are settled then, if your so-called Mother, Daisy, arrives her by the end of noon tomorrow, I shall hand you all over to her, if not, let nature take it’s course. You will be living here forever’.
The next day, Peter was woken by the dainty chirping of the birds from the wide open window. Alas, Daisy had not arrived to take him. He was keeping his hope alive because he knew she would arrive. During breakfast, he overheard the conversation between a worker and the minister, ‘Daisy is not coming it seem. She is dead. We just acquired the news, she was killed by the bomb blast in the Greenwich market’.
Peter clenched his fists so hard, nails digging into his palms that a trickle of blood dropped to the floor. A scream escaped his trembling lips as the realisation hit him. Hard. All the eyes peered over him. Fury raced through his body, heating him to his very core and igniting a flame so hot within his heart that he almost screamed in agony and anger. Hot tears trickled down his face. As he ran from the dining room to the realm of the sun outside, he fell against the golden grass. He pressed his forehead against the grass, fingers crushing through it .He screamed again, so sure that this was not true.
He gazed at the daisies in front of him, that were swaying to the rhythm of the wind and whispered,’ Please come back.’
Once, when the winds of fate had blown more favourably, it had danced on the breeze with vitality, dominating all around it. Peter glimpsed ahead to not find the sun blinding him but the rays flashing upon a woman riding a radiant horse, proceeding towards him . Instantly, he kissed the daisies with a wide smile on his face and gleaming eyes.
Disclaimer: I have no right over the image used in this post. All the credit goes to the rightful owner.