The Heirloom Returns...

Simon woke up to a bad dream. The clocked ticked 11.30 pm. He tried to recall the dream but couldn’t do it entirely. He could only recall it in bits and pieces.

Something about the ring, he wondered. He closed his eyes again to picture the ring. He got it this time. It was a gold ring, large and wide. The case looked hexagonal in shape with three segments – two triangles and one stretched square. In between the square part, a red stone shimmered,  embossed on the ring.

Peculiar ring that disturbed Simon
Art by Anaga N

This looks familiar! I remember this peculiar ring case!

‘It’s my mother’s ring!’ His eyes swelled up in horror. “She asked me to keep it safe with me, after her demise but I totally forgot” he scrunched the pillow.

All these years, he was living with his mother. She faced all sorts of troubles raising him, being a single mother from a minority community. With all the societal conformities, she had been confronted by both relatives and strangers and unrelated people, she stood like a rock. “How can you raise a child alone? Why can’t you get married? Why don’t you convert yourself?”

Regardless of the all the troubles, she had managed to raise Simon with utmost compassion. She may have left him now but there is enough  money to feed him for another five years though he is just out of school now.

Her husband had given  this ring, which he got from his grandmother. It is believed  in their family that the ring finds a special lady and remains with her before moving on to the next generation.

Unable to handle the ruminating thoughts of his mother and the ring, Simon scurried to the cemetery to find her mother. It was 12.30 am and he couldn’t get a clear view of the atmosphere as it was pitch dark around. The rain-bearing nimbus clouds looked all charged-up. In between, peeked the moon igniting the atmosphere, which was helpful in finding his mother. After a while, he was convinced he had found her.

Standing before the grave, he looked lost in thoughts. What do I do? Should I dig it up? What if the ring is not there? What if somebody comes? What if that somebody is…? 

While contemplating over his own thoughts, he heard a group of stray dogs howling from the distance that brought a chill down his spine. He had little time to  decide as the clouds looked heavy and could start pouring anytime. His heart raced like that of an Olympic athlete and blended rhythmically with the distant rumbling of thunder.

Swallowed in fear, he started digging with disturbed feelings running down his memory. Beads of sweat started dripping down his brows. While he was at work, for every other minute he felt somebody observing from behind.  Once in a while, he gathered courage to turn around but to only find the holy cross erected over other tombs.

After a while, he hit something that looked like a hand. It’s my mother’s hand, he jumped out of his skin. Gathering composure within a few minutes, he probed for the ring and found nothing.

What the hell! He flew into a rage.

Yet again, he started digging. This time, anger pushed him hard, and he found the other hand quickly. There it is, he heaved a huge sigh of relief, on finding the ring.

Relieved, he started pulling the ring. It wasn’t easy. Looks like she is not giving it up. But he didn’t give up either. He pressed hard, gritted his teeth, stretched his muscles and a minute later, he got it. It worked. He got the ring. But he couldn’t get a closer look in that darkness, so he ran home immediately.

After reaching home, he decided to take a shower before examining the ring. He kept it on the table and hurried to the bathroom. That’s when he heard the doorbell.

DING DONG…

A strange silence followed. The clock ticked like never before and it daunted him. The calling bell shook him by surprise.

Who could it be? Its 2 am for God’s sake! He started shaking in shock. After giving it a minute, he opened the door to see a visibly exhausted old woman. Her saree was neatly fringed and tucked. A big round red bindi flashed from her forehead, juxtaposing her bright yellow face. The disordered grey hairs strayed all over her face. Bearing a rather composed look, she requested for a glass of water in a soft voice.

‘Thank God! I thought it’s something else,’ he sighed.

‘I am sorry, are you expecting somebody?’ she grinned.

‘No… I was…I just… Never mind!’ Simon fumbled. ‘I will get you water’

He gets her a bottle of water and he notes somethings strange with her hand. HER RING FINGER WAS  MISSING!

He got curious and thought of asking but something arrested the words from coming out. Maybe he didn’t know how to put it. Maybe he was scared. Maybe he did not want to sound nosy. Or maybe he was tired and wanted to go to bed. Whatever it was, she drank and left. 

Blood trail
Art by Anaga N

He closed the door and noted a few traces of blood on the knob. He was taken aback by the very sight of blood on his door. He looked over his hand, which was sopping with blood and saw the drops on the floor as well. He followed the meandering droplets’ trail that went all the way till the lobby near the table where he had kept the ring.

The sight of the ring gave him a heart attack. He couldn’t believe his own eyes as he saw the ring along with the finger, which was oozing with blood.

‘Oh God! I pulled the ENTIRE FINGER!’ Simon freaked out. ‘WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?’

His lips continued mumbling vaguely for a while before coming to a halt. He sat on the couch and gave it a thought and looked disturbed again. Did this have anything to do with the old lady? Didn’t I get my mother’s ring?

Shaking and terrified, Simon carefully took the finger to get a better view at the ring. Mud and blood tested his patience. He rushed to the sink, washed it thoroughly and saw the ring. His heart pounded fast and eyes bulged out in fright. While trying to move his trembling body, he heard this…

DING DONG…