Mind-bender

Raghav found him piled up at his doorstep, as he stepped out to pick up milk one chilly morning. He slammed the door shut in half an instant. A hundred thoughts started racing through his mind as randomly as the bees that have been forced out of a broken beehive.

Standing with his back still glued the door, he sensed a queasy feeling creeping up to his chest. His heart was thumping right into his throat, his mouth dry, breathing heavily, his arms trembling and knees suddenly gone weak. He barely managed to hold himself up as he stumbled onto the cold floor below his bare feet. 

A quick glance into the peephole and he was sure it was Arya. There was no mistaking those same tiny hands that clenched tight at the slightest exposure to cold, lovely long eyelashes – a tad too big for his small face, cheeks flushed with the redness of a dozen roses and pink lips that pursed while he slept – just like now. And wait. Wasn’t he wearing his favorite shirt – the plain white one with tiny blue and red checks only at the collar and cuffs? 

Raghav panicked. He could not understand this. How could Arya be here? Tears streamed down his cheeks as his mind raced to the day Arya was born – as he lifted into his arms the fruit of his loin, his own blood. Glimpses of Arya’s childhood flashed in front of his eyes – one after another in an endless current that he couldn’t interrupt. It all ended in a sudden, frightening shriek. The listless body of a drowned child floated on the surface of the pool. Raghav shuddered as he opened the door once again. A lonely bottle of milk was all that stood there.

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This post is in response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge - Week Seventy-Six.