The Trike Returns:
Root
Saira Haqqi
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Wild Swans
There was a lake outside. This year two wild swans visited there. The boy watched them daily from his bed. He couldn't do much else; even sitting up dizzied him. So he lay dreaming he was a swan -- strong, graceful, free.
His mother was a seamstress; his father did anything possible to provide for the family. But now matters were complicated by his sickness; they were saving for the doctor, so food was scarce. They had rice for three consecutive days.
He had not seen the swans all day. The door slammed; father was home, face proud, one large hand wrapped around a white crumple of feathers that would never again glide across the lake's surface. The boy paled. Father laughed -- the bird was valuable, with its sale they could afford medical care. The boy wasn't listening.
And the boy grew weaker, sicker; and the doctors didn't know why.
~Saira Haqqi
Saira Haqqi is an eighteen year old writer in Pakistan, who hates writing about herself in the third person... Email.
© 2002 by Saira Haqqi. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2002 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.
This page updated August 31, 2002.