Last Duties

Written for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Write a story that includes all of the following: a wooden bowl, a sponge, and chapstick
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         Dip. Wring. Wipe.

         It was a repetitive process that turned the wooden bowl of once clear tepid water into the hue of weak tea. Sighing, Anita lifted the frail arm to scrub beneath it gently with the sponge. It was a ritual she was required to do at least once a day.

         She stared at the woman she had once called ‘Mama’. Her once healthy and plump brown flesh was now a shadow of its former self. No one knew what this disease was, and Anita could only watch helplessly as Mama shrunk into the hollow shell that barely contained her once unquenchable spirit. Her skin was now wrinkled like crumpled paper, which felt dry to the touch. Her lips cracked and bled if she made an attempt to talk, and no chapstick in the world could make it any better.

         There was a smell that emanated and enveloped Mama now. Anita knew that even though she was cleaned everyday, that sick, yellowing smell of decay and rot was growing stronger as the hours went by. She opened the windows as wide as she could, but it was the height of summer, and the heat was unbearable. The flies – as big as cockroaches - had made Mama’s body a resting place, as if aware that it was only a matter of time.

         The cheap fan she bought at Baba’s shop only blew hot air, and in the silence of the tiny room, its blades churned like a death knell. Outside, children danced and prayed for rain, while dogs howled to the heavens to add to the cacophony. No one paid much attention to the final breath Mama gave, as Anita reached out to hide the rheumy gaze filled with bitterness for a world that no longer seemed to care.


Word Count: 300