The Spider and the Paint Jar

A child is his mother's world

Alhamdulillah! Honourable Mention!

Entry for:

Daily Flash Fiction Challenge  (13+) Enter your story of 300 words or less. #896794 by Arakun the twisted raccoon

The Spider and the Paint Jar
Kazi Falguni Eshita



Ma wrapped the blanket around Sumon's tiny frame as raindrops danced rhythmically on the windowpanes.



"Tell me about the spider again," he whispered, pointing to the ceiling where eight-legged shadows danced in the lamplight, and a feather-shaped nightlamp lit one end of the bed.
She smiled. "Ah, that stubborn one! Remember how she spun her web in the paint jar?" Sumon giggled--her favorite sound--as Ma mimicked the spider's fury. "My masterpiece! she shrieked when we dipped her in blue. I am an artist, not a soup ingredient!"
Sumon's fingers plucked a pegion feather from the inkpot on the bedside table. "And this?"
Ma's voice softened. "The feather that wrote us letters. When you were too small to hold a pencil, it scribbled in the dust: Ma, I love you taller than the sky."
"But that's impossible," Sumon protested, as he always did.
"So the spider inked the feather's tip, and together they painted our story on the walls. See?" She gestured to the swirling blues and golds--their shared fingerprint.
His little eyelids fluttered. "Will the spider remember me if I sleep?"
Ma kissed his forehead. "She'll spin your name in her threads. And tomorrow, we'll paint her a thank-you note."
As his breath steadied, Ma whispered the unsung truth: "You are my feather. You are my sky."