Summary:\u00a0 In honor of all mothers who are still with us in person or in spirit, Bonanza Brand presents this Mother Day’s compilation containing the work Inca, MonicaSJ, faust, Southplains, Krystyna, Patina, DJK, and Sibylle–authors who responded to the 2012 Pinecone Challenge prompt:\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cMama died today…\u201d\u00a0 from The Stranger<\/u> by Albert Camus.\u00a0 These wonderfully creative writers had to limit their entries to under 500 words.\u00a0 The stories are presented in the order of posting.<\/p>\n
Rating: T
\nWord Count:\u00a0 3,880<\/p>\n
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Inca<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cMama died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don’t know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt was four days ago, Little Joe,\u201d says Adam, and his face looks sad.<\/p>\n I nod. \u201cOh, yeah, that\u2019s right.\u201d I\u2019m never quite clear about days. Grownups seem to think it\u2019s important though.<\/p>\n I climb up on the seat next to him and he puts his arm around me. I dig my fingers into his ribs the way I know annoys him, and he wriggles but he doesn\u2019t tell me off.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen\u2019s she coming back?\u201d\u00a0\u00a0He puffs out a big breath. Makes him sound like Pa.<\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s not coming back, Little Joe. She\u2019s dead. That\u2019s what dead means. It means someone isn\u2019t coming back. We buried her, by the lake, remember? Where she liked to be.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIn the box.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n I nod. \u201cBut she\u2019s coming back.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n I don\u2019t like it when he says that. I dig him harder in the ribs and he says,<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t do that, Joe, it hurts.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d I ask. He knows I don\u2019t mean about hurting him.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s just how it is. Everybody has to die. One day. Animals, people, everyone.\u201d<\/p>\n I know now he\u2019s being ridiculous. I pull away from him and climb off the chair. \u201cThat\u2019s a lie!\u00a0I<\/em>\u00a0ain\u2019t gonna die!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, not for a long time.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNever!\u201d I tell him. When he doesn\u2019t say anything back, I pout my lip and shout it at him. \u201cI ain\u2019t gonna die, Adam! I ain\u2019t!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJoe,\u201d he says, like he\u2019s asking me to do something. But I don\u2019t know what.<\/p>\n \u201cI want to see her.\u201d My voice is all whiney.<\/p>\n \u201cI know you do. We all do. We just can\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes we can,\u201d I insist. \u201cWhere is she, Adam?\u201d<\/p>\n He puts his face in his hands. \u201cOh, Joe!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI want Pa. Where\u2019s Pa?\u201d I start to cry. I don\u2019t know why Adam\u2019s being mean to me and saying things that aren\u2019t true.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s in town. He\u2019ll be back later. Don\u2019t cry.\u201d He holds out his arms to me, but I back away. \u201cI ain\u2019t gonna die, Adam,\u201d I tell him again.<\/p>\n \u201cI know you\u2019re not, Little Joe. Not yet anyways. I didn\u2019t mean to scare you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMama\u2019s in town too.\u201d I sniff back the tears as I realize that\u2019s where she must be. Why I can\u2019t find her.<\/p>\n Adam looks funny. Like he\u2019s gonna cry too, but I know he can\u2019t cry \u2019cos he\u2019s a grown up. \u201cMama\u2019s by the lake, Joe,\u201d he says, and his voice sounds funny too.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen they coming back? They coming back soon?\u201d<\/p>\n Adam presses his hands over his eyes. When he looks up again, he says, \u201cWhy don\u2019t we take your pony out for a ride? He hasn\u2019t been out for a few days. Would you like to do that?\u201d<\/p>\n I nod, because I would. Adam stands up and I follow him out to the barn, feeling better. \u201cCan we ride out to the lake?\u201d I say. \u201cSee if Mama’s there?\u201d<\/p>\n -ooOoo-<\/p>\n <\/p>\n MonicaSJ<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Mama died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don\u2019t know. Yesterday morning when I was holding her head up to drink some broth, she looked at me and smiled; the first smile I had seen in at least two weeks.<\/p>\n \u201cLevi, sweet Levi,\u201d she had whispered, her eyes smiling, her hand reaching up to touch my face. \u201cI need you to go fetch the doctor. I know you don\u2019t hold to leaving me here alone, but my sweet boy, I\u2019m not going to beat this sickness on my own. I want you to leave some broth and some water right here on the table next to me, and then I want you to ride down to Virginia City and bring the doctor back. He\u2019ll know what to do.\u201d<\/p>\n I didn\u2019t argue as I had before. She\u2019d not spoken to me that way since she came down with the fever. It was as if she had found some kind of peace in her sickness, and though I should have been happy by that fact, it mostly frightened me. She wouldn\u2019t even let me kiss her goodbye. She just wore that same smile; one that made it into her eyes.<\/p>\n I did as I was told and left her, riding straight through the night to the doctor in Virginia City. I told Dr. Martin what Mama said, and he just nodded kinda sad-like. He gathered his things and we left, but on the way out of town, he waved down Mr. Cartwright and one of his sons. He got out of the buggy and went over to speak to them with his hat in his hands. When the Cartwrights got back up on their horses and turned to follow us, the son\u2026the oldest one, looked me square in the eye. For some reason, I couldn\u2019t look away. Then he leaned down to Dr. Martin. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n Doc Martin glanced back at me real quick-like. \u201cNo, I suppose he doesn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n I knew they were talking about me, but I didn\u2019t pry. Mama always told me to speak only when I was spoken to when it came to men\u2019s business. But I\u2019m twelve now. Just the other day Mama said what a fine young man I was.<\/p>\n When we got back to the farm, Mr. Cartwright and Dr. Martin went inside while Mr. Cartwright\u2019s son put an arm around my shoulder and walked me over by the well.<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s give the doctor some room. Your name\u2019s Levi, isn\u2019t it?\u201d I nodded and watched the door.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m Adam,\u201d he said, holding out his hand. I shook it but didn\u2019t look away from the door.<\/p>\n Then Dr. Martin stepped out, shook his head and went back in.<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s take a walk, Levi.\u201d<\/p>\n My eyes started burning before I figured what that headshake meant, but before I could run back to the house, Mr. Adam had me in his arms, holding on while I tried to push away.<\/p>\n \u201cJust let it out, son. You\u2019re not alone.\u201d<\/p>\n -ooOoo-<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Faust<\/strong><\/p>\n Mama died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don’t know. I don’t know, and I don’t care. It doesn’t matter; does it? Today, yesterday, a week ago…last year, it doesn’t matter. Time reckoning has lost its meaning. There are only two times left: before and after Mama died.<\/p>\n Before, that was when the days were golden, the house filled with activity, teasing, laughter, joy. When mornings were busy but structured, when midday smelled like rich soup and love, when nighttime was peaceful and spiced with wondrous fairy tales.<\/p>\n Before, that was when Papa had been whole.<\/p>\n After…after were tears. Rage, accusations, self-incrimination. Grandpa’s voice surprisingly low and soothing, Uncle Hoss’s arms stronger than ever \u2013 when have I seen Papa so small? Never before \u2013 and Uncle Joe’s presence calmer than I’d ever thought it possible.<\/p>\n After, that is now. Papa’s composed features \u2013 hadn’t that always been Mama’s specialty? His choked words, his shaking arms as he gathers me trying to appear more collected and more comforting than he actually can manage.<\/p>\n After, that’s been the eternity since Dr. Paul has left my parent’s bedroom with a face that showed more grief than a doctor should allow his professional heart, saying, “I’m sorry” and that he wasn’t able to save either of them, not Mama, and not my stillborn sister.<\/p>\n The eternity in which I did not become a big brother after so many years but an adult.<\/p>\n The eternity in which I discovered how fragile someone as tall and strong as my father can become in the blink of an eye. Never before had I noticed the grey at his temple. Surely, it must have been there, but if I must have dismissed it a play of light, a laugh. He would never be old \u2014 or so I had thought. And had his limp been as pronounced as now before?<\/p>\n Mama died today; at three thirty in the morning, sixteen hours ago. It feels like a lifetime.<\/p>\n Mama died today; at three thirty in the morning, sixteen hours ago. I’ll mourn her tonight, when everyone’s asleep. I won’t let Papa see me fall apart, too.<\/p>\n -ooOoo-<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Southplains<\/strong><\/p>\n Mama died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don\u2019t know. I don\u2019t really understand the concept of time, though I\u2019ve heard the word often enough the last few hours.<\/p>\n From my mother. \u201cLet\u2019s head home, little one. I do believe it\u2019s time to let your father know about you. Yes, I\u2019ll tell him tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n From my father, after the horrible screams from the horse died away. \u201cHold on, Darling. The doctor will be here in no time.\u201d<\/p>\n From the doctor. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry, Ben. There just wasn\u2019t time…\u201d<\/p>\n And again from my father, over and over again, in a voice so wracked with rage and grief that the memory of it makes me shiver even now. \u201cIt\u2019s not her time. For God\u2019s sake, it\u2019s not her time!\u201d<\/p>\n Time, for me, is meaningless. We are simply…here. Mama and I are on our way somewhere else very soon, but we can\u2019t yet let go. My father and brothers are hurting terribly, and their pain is an invisible tether holding us near to them. We stay close, so close that I am sure they would see us if they only looked.<\/p>\n My brothers stand a few feet away from the grave, shoulders hunched in misery against the light rain that has begun to fall. The biggest brother holds tight to the littlest one, wrapping his great arms about him as if to protect him from the cold and wet. The dark-haired brother approaches my father, who sits at the grave with his head bowed so low his hair brushes the tombstone.<\/p>\n \u201cPa, it\u2019s time to get Little Joe home.\u201d<\/p>\n Time. There\u2019s that word again. My father ignores him and continues to stare at the freshly turned earth at his feet.<\/p>\n I watch the little one shiver in the big one\u2019s arms, and I suddenly wish I’d had the chance to play with him. We would\u2019ve had great fun, he and I.<\/p>\n Mama knows what I\u2019m thinking, of course. Just as we have no need of time here, neither do we have need of the spoken word.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll meet Little Joe soon enough,\u201d she says without speaking, and smiles gently. \u201cHoss and Adam, too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd…\u201d I remember the name my brothers use for our father. \u201c…Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n She nods, and her smile grows wistful. \u201cAnd your pa. We\u2019ll all be together sooner than you can imagine.\u201d<\/p>\n I frown, studying the red-rimmed eyes of my older brothers and the tear stains covering my youngest brother\u2019s cheeks. The way my father seems…broken.<\/p>\n \u201cIf we\u2019ll be together soon,\u201d I say, \u201cwhy are they so sad?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey don\u2019t understand how short time really is. On earth, years can seem to last forever.\u201d She draws me to her. \u201cCome. We must go now.\u201d<\/p>\n I lay my cheek against Mama\u2019s soft neck and watch as my father and brothers drift away.<\/p>\n Mama died today. So did I.<\/p>\n Time doesn\u2019t matter to me, but I\u2019ll be glad when we can see Pa again.<\/p>\n To tell him about me.<\/p>\n -ooOoo-<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Krystyna<\/strong><\/p>\n Mama died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don\u2019t know.<\/p>\n He stood looking at the people, a little boy with dark curling hair and red rimmed eyes that a few days earlier were wide and inquisitive and bright honey brown. He swallowed hard and turned to glance over his shoulder. He so dearly wanted his Pa to come and talk to these people and explain what had happened.<\/p>\n He held his hat in his hands and concentrated on what they were saying, too many words and too much confusion. Someone took hold of his hands.<\/p>\n \u201cTell us that again, son, what happened to your Mama?\u201d<\/p>\n She was well meaning enough and her face, along with her voice was kindly, but the question brought a gush of emotion welling up in his heart so that it seemed as if his throat was being squeezed and he couldn\u2019t get the words out again. He watched her look anxiously up at the man by her side and her whispered, \u201cPoor child, he says his mother\u2019s dead.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey killed her – his voice gasped out the words and he pointed towards the hills, The Indians killed her. There were arrows and there was shooting and Mama – and Hoss – and Pa he was crying too and – and – and then he was sobbing on her pretty gingham dress as she held him and her hand stroked his hair, just like Mama had done so often. Mama – I want my Mama. he whispered in a voice that quivered against her shoulder so that she caught at his arms and raised his face to look up as she asked him, \u201cWhere\u2019s your father?\u201d<\/p>\n He took her hand and led her to where he knew his father would be while the other people mingled with the remnant of survivors from their wagon train. He could hear them talking, their voices jabber jabbering over the sounds of the stiff mournful breeze that seemed determined to obliterate her death in the dust that constantly shifted about them.<\/p>\n His father turned when he called, he turned very slowly as though he were in a dream and to move too quickly would shatter it and force him into the reality of life, and death, once more. The infant sleeping in his arms stirred, a dimpled hand splayed fingers like the petals of a flower upon the shawl she had knitted for the little one.<\/p>\n Adam Cartwright released the woman\u2019s hand and ran to his father.<\/p>\n She cleared her throat. \u201cWe didn\u2019t know – we just arrived and your son told us\u2014”<\/p>\n \u201cYes, my wife died today,\u201d Ben said, turning to look at the grave. \u201cOr it may have been yesterday, I don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n And the tears fell slowly as he bowed his head and buried his face in the shawl just so that he could capture the smell and the essence of her again, even if just for a very little while.<\/p>\n -ooOoo-<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Patina<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cMama died last night. Or maybe this morning, I don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCalm down and take a deep breath,\u201d Sheriff Roy Coffee said as he gently steered Salina to the chair and fetched her a cup of coffee.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ve got to get a posse together!\u201d<\/p>\n Roy sat down at his desk and leaned forward, resting his forearm against the corner of the desk. \u201cJust tell me what happened.\u201d<\/p>\n Salina held the much-used ceramic mug to her lips and studied the steam rising from the hot liquid within. She clasped it tightly with both hands, remembering how her mother had scolded her yesterday morning for splashing coffee on the clean tablecloth. Her mother would never fuss again.<\/p>\n \u201cI think it was around midnight. I remember hearing the mantle clock ring twelve times.\u201d She paused and watched the rising steam. \u201cI thought it was thunder at first, but it didn\u2019t sound right. Then there were gunshots.\u201d She paused to catch a ragged breath. Coffee splashed from the brim of the mug as her body shook from the memory and tears rolled down her cheeks.<\/p>\n The sheriff pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. He wished he could console her and tell her everything would be okay, not make her relive what had happened, but he needed to know more details before calling men together to join a posse.<\/p>\n Heavy footsteps on the porch caught Roy\u2019s ear and the door opened before he could escort Salina to the back of the office where she could have privacy. He turned as Ben and Joe stepped inside.<\/p>\n Ben stopped in mid-stride and thrust out an arm to prevent Joe from moving forward. He removed his hat and asked, \u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n Roy gently patted Salina\u2019s knee before walking over to the Cartwrights. In a low voice, he said, \u201cMiz Ellsworth\u2019s been murdered. Sounds like vigilantes.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe noticed the rust-colored stains around the hem of Salina\u2019s dress and asked, \u201cVigilantes? Are you sure?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cKeep your voice down,\u201d hissed Ben.<\/p>\n Salina raised her head with difficulty, as if it were made of stone, and turned her attention to the newcomers. Her red-rimmed eyes widened in shock as the mug slipped from her hands. The coffee leaked from the cup and soaked into the floorboards, staining the wood a deep brown.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t you two go on over to the International House for coffee?\u201d asked Roy. \u201cI\u2019ll join you later.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy, Salina?\u201d asked Joe.<\/p>\n She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d she asked in a soft, tremulous voice.<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s go,\u201d said Ben, tugging on Joe\u2019s arm.<\/p>\n \u201cI passed Salina and her mother on the road last night,\u201d said Joe, \u201con my way home from the Silver Dollar. They were arguing up a storm. That was close to midnight.\u201d<\/p>\n Salina sniffled loudly but her eyes no longer glistened. \u201cShe wouldn\u2019t let me marry Frank,\u201d she said with a hint of venom.<\/p>\n -ooOoo-<\/p>\n <\/p>\n DJK<\/strong><\/p>\n Mama died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don’t know.<\/p>\n Cook came and sent the boy away before he could say much more than that she was dead. An accident at the factory was what he said. Davy sent me word. He couldn\u2019t come himself, not with six young ones to look after and seeing to the funeral and all. The boy did manage to tell me they\u2019ll lay her to rest tomorrow. I knew when he said it that there weren\u2019t no hope of me being there. There\u2019s no way I could make it there and back in a single day. \u2018Sides, Mrs. Newell has guests, and tomorrow\u2019s that dinner party she\u2019s been planning these two weeks past. Just don\u2019t see her letting me have the time. I\u2019ll ask, of course, but ain\u2019t no sense in expecting to hold the moon just \u2018cause ya reach for it.<\/p>\n ****<\/p>\n Well, that\u2019s that. Mrs. Newell said plain out if I weren\u2019t at my job tomorrow I\u2019d have no job come Sunday. I can\u2019t do nothing for Mama now anyway, and the best I can do for the others is to send them all the money I can. Hodgekins will give two week\u2019s pay since the accident happened at the factory, but most of that\u2019ll go for the burying. Davy\u2019ll be needing all he can get from me and more. Cook says Mrs. Andervale is looking for some extra girls for Miss Victoria\u2019s coming out; may I can earn a bit there. I do have half a day Sunday; I\u2019ll go to the church and light a candle for Mama. Mayhap, it won\u2019t feel like I\u2019m a day late and a dollar short.<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n Da always said that there weren\u2019t no use in crying; sometimes, though, I can\u2019t keep from it. Didn\u2019t think anybody be about to know, though, not when I went out in the garden so early. That guest of Mister Andrew\u2019s, now, he\u2019s an early bird. Cilla says he\u2019s from out West somewhere, says Miss Beatrice was telling one her friends about him. A rancher she said he was, so mayhap that\u2019s why he was up and about. Caught me crying in the garden just before sunrise, he did. He was kind of flustered at first. I don\u2019t think he\u2019s much use to weeping females. Still, he talked to me real gentle and had the whole story of Mama dying. Imagine one of Mr. Andrew\u2019s college friends taking time to talk to someone like me. Mayhap, it was his losing his mama just \u2018fore he came back East, and her his third. He said he\u2019d hire a rig and drive me out to the grave tomorrow. It wouldn\u2019t be right to let him, I know, but it was a fine offer. He wiped my tears with his handkerchief. Linen it was with his initials ASC. Fine gentleman he is and understanding. I\u2019ve a feeling he might know what it is to be poor. No, that couldn\u2019t be.<\/p>\n -ooOoo-<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Sibylle<\/strong><\/p>\n Adam sat upright in his bed, heart pounding, a thin film of sweat covering his body, with that little voice whispering to him. Was he running a fever? he thought as he lay back. What had happened?<\/p>\n He’d been running a wagonful of errands for his father and Hop Sing, and as the buckboard had rumbled towards Virginia City he had spotted a small figure sitting on a big stone beside the road. A little girl clad in pink: pink dress, a little pink cape and a matching bonnet. She surely wasn’t more than five or six.<\/p>\n Adam steadied the horses. “Hey, little lady, what are you doing here? Where\u2019s your Ma?”<\/p>\n “Mama died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don’t know, mister.”<\/p>\n Adam could barely hear her whisper. He climbed down and approached the child cautiously, not wanting to startle her. “And your Pa, where is he?”<\/p>\n “I haven\u2019t never known him, mister.” Her eyes were fixed on the ground.<\/p>\n That caught Adam’s sympathy. He himself knew enough of losing a parent and this poor girl had evidently lost both. “Is there nobody with you?” he smiled reassuringly. “I don\u2019t know what to call you. What\u2019s your name?”<\/p>\n “Jennifer, but Mama calls me Jenny.”<\/p>\n “May I call you Jenny, too?”<\/p>\n “If you want.”<\/p>\n “I would like that, Jenny. My names Adam.”<\/p>\n “O.K., Adam.” She raised her eyes and looked at him.<\/p>\n “Jenny, are you all alone?”<\/p>\n The girl shook her head. “My two brothers are on our wagon.”<\/p>\n “Where is it, Jenny?” Adam asked gently.<\/p>\n “Over there,” the girl whispered, pointing behind her.<\/p>\n “You came in a wagon across that rough ground? How?”<\/p>\n “It was night, and I was asleep, but Mama got in a hurry and drove off the road, and there was lots of noise, and then the wagon broke…” she said tearfully.<\/p>\n “How old are your brothers?” Perhaps one of them could be more helpful, Adam thought.<\/p>\n “One’s older than me, the other’s just a baby.”<\/p>\n “Can you show me your wagon?” Adam said soothingly and held out a hand. She nodded and put her own small cold hand in his as she hopped down from the stone.<\/p>\n Only a few hundred yards away was a small valley, with the shattered pieces of a wagon in plain view. And the smell came. An awful smell. Instinctively Adam gathered up the feather-light child and folded her close to his chest as he picked his way down to the valley floor. Closer up, the scene was worse; there were five or six corpses around the wagon.<\/p>\n He tried to shield the little girl from the sight. “Shsh, you’re all right, Jenny, you’re all right, don\u2019t worry.”<\/p>\n The girl lifted her small head from against his shoulder. Adam caught a brief glimpse, as her mouth split into a wide smile, of serried rows of needle-sharp teeth before she sank them forcefully into the side of his neck.<\/p>\n The End<\/p>\n A\/N:\u00a0 The Bonanza Brand library isn’t the only place you can read fanfiction on this site. Join the Forums to gain access to the Virginia City Literary Society where authors respond to writing challenges like the Pinecones and Drabbles where the word count is less than 500 words. Challenge responses vary from the dramatic to the comedic to the romantic and even the spooky.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n