The Two Ladies.

This post was written for the Weekly Writing Challenge.

Amidst the stillness of the night I hear noises. Running water, a cough, And chanting.

Horrified and curious, I get out of bed, wear my robe, put on my glasses and head out to the direction of the noises.

Until I stop. And see some light.

The Kitchen.

I have been living in this orphanage for as long as I remember, I have never heard such noises in the middle of the night.

No one is to be awake at night.

I hear a second cough. And the chanting continues.

Sounds like an old lady.

“But we don’t have old ladies working in the orphanage!” I thought.

I keep walking down the corridor, around the corner until I see the door of the kitchen.

It is closed.

Light escapes through the slit below the door and through the keyhole.

I hear my heart beating louder. I feel sweat on my forehead.

I approach the door and look through the keyhole.

Two old ladies stand with their back to the door. Chanting.

I concentrate on the thread of words, I can’t make out them out.

Until I realize it’s not English.

You can turn off the water now.” says one of the ladies.

As she turns around to turn off the tap, I notice her short grey wig, her freshly-applied red lips,  green eye shadow, and her very pale wrinkled face.

A face that I have never seen before.

Or wait, maybe I have.

The second lady had shiny blond hair and a much younger voice. I can’t see her face, she gave me her back. But I can see her white silk dress. Just by looking at her back, she is beautiful.

Her chants are smooth, friendly, that of a mother comforting her child.

I concentrate. The rhythm seems familiar.

“Honey, It’s time.” The older lady says with a sad tone. She grabs the young lady’s hand and leaves through the opposite door.

I open the door and hurry behind them.

“Hey! wait!” I scream.

An echo. There was no sign of them.

I turn back to the kitchen, particularly to that counter the two ladies were working on, hoping to know anything about them.

I find a plate covered with a clean white cloth. I pick it up realizing its beautiful smell.

And my favorite childhood dish.




  1. Lily Mugford · June 7, 2013

    mysterious.. good story

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