A-Z One Shots
A/N: I've always seen these types of stories circling around and I adore each and every one of them, so I decided to give it a shot myself. If you have any ideas for words I should base my stories around, please tell me! With love – Iz
Ants
Lucy had always loved family picnics, especially when her father tagged along. He always knew exactly how to make her giggle and squeal when a frown decorated her face.
Her mom, Layla, was something out of a fairytale, with a golden braid running down her back, which Lucy would always decorate with daisies. Her mother was a goddess in her eyes and in her beloved dads as well.
One day, Lucy's happy family took a trip down to the meadow. It was tradition, every Saturday after twelve pm; they would pack sandwiches and an embroidered blanket, never once sitting in the same spot.
Lucy's mom had the softest, most delicate hands on earth. Every chance she could get Lucy would always be grabbing at them. So when she spotted an anthill, she had to show her mom.
So Lucy dragged her mom down to the anthill, careful not to get her new pink dress dirty. Her father watched from up the hill, love and affection crossing his stern resting face.
"Mommy, look at the ants!"
Her mother just laughed in reply, crouching beside Lucy to try and count each and every diligent worker.
Lucy and Layla watched the ants, minutes ticking on. Lucy's small fingers curled around her moms.
Lucy always wanted to work hard like the ants.
0-0-0-0
Lucy curled her hand around her mom's frail one, looking down the hill. Her father stood behind, hands on the handles of Layla's dull wheelchair.
He mom would've decorated it, but she was growing to sick, and could no longer move her arms like she used to.
Lucy looked down towards the daisies, yearning to pluck them out of the lush grass, and place them in her mom's luscious locks. But her mom had lost her hair during treatments, along with the life that used to dance through her eyes.
Layla knew her time was soon up, and only a few grains of sand had yet to fall through the hourglass. Lucy wished she could freeze time, and make sure those few grains never moved a fraction.
Her mom tried to smile, but her lips were chapped, and her face was green and pale. Lucy had grown accustomed to this new face, and never once thought of it as ugly. She thought the monster who grabbed a tight hold of it ugly.
She hated that big, lumpy, depressing monster, which was named cancer.
Lucy knew she was crying now, because her mother looked at her with her loving gaze, which was distracted by the tubes that disappeared into her nostrils, and protruded out of her body.
She looked down the hill again, shutting her eyes tightly as a sobbed worked its way up her throat. She knew she was stronger than this, yet she couldn't keep a stupid tear from leaving her eye.
Through her blurred vision, she caught sight of tiny black blobs, making their way into a sandy hole.
"The ants Lucy, they came out for us today." Her mom chimed with a raspy voice, chuckling.
Lucy refused to laugh, letting go of Layla's hand to wrap her arms around her own torso as she shook. She was afraid if she let go, her world would crumble like the graham crackers her and her mom used to enjoy so much together.
"Remember when we used to count the ants, and you used to tell us how you were going to work hard like the ants every time we went home?" Her mother laughed again, shaking her head.
She looked over towards her mother, and her teary eyes grew warm at what she saw. Her mom looked towards the anthill with such fondness; it was almost like she was watching her own children work.
A small smile worked onto her lips, the saltiness of the tears latching onto her taste buds. She took a tight hold of her mom's hand, holding her like she was the anchor to Lucy's ship, and if she let go, she would float away at any moment.
Her dad rested a tender kiss on the crown of Layla's bare head.
"I love you mom." Lucy's voice rasped out.
That night was soon filled with sirens and sobs, as she passed her mom onto the angels who would guide her through her next journey.
She was never a Christian, and never planned on being one, but she knew that her mom would've loved to be flying high with a halo placed on her delicate head.
All she wanted right now was to be back on those rolling hills, counting the ants as they marched along, carrying bits of cheese and crackers, and carrying her troubles and problems along with them, as she held her mother's warm, strong hand.
0-0-0-0
Oh god, what have I done?
I don't know if this was very successful in the sadness factor, but it sure made me feel things when I was writing it.
I hope you all have the best day ever (or night, but if its night, you should probably go to sleep, I wouldn't want you catching a cold or anything!).
Love you all, so, so, so, so much!
-Iz