| Wattys 2022 Shortlist | CURRENTLY UNDER THE EDITING PROCESS
Bora, the last arctic breed, was born with an ominous curse. He must sacrifice himself to the deity for the sake of his kind, but when he meets Gemma, love makes him reevaluate his self-i...
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Gemma
A lamp on the end table casts a warm, mellow glow as I wake up in my grandmother's peaceful home. I raised a bit, and a whiff of air puffed as I caught a scent lingering on the sofa; It was my grandmother's soft, powdery rice perfume on her suede pillows, telling me she's been moving around today. A shadow from outside caught my eye as I gazed out the window in the backyard. And notice it is still dark out; has Bora left already?
I felt more relaxed after my nap, but my broken heart was still very much alive.
I can't let go.
Bora, I faintly called out to him, but no response.
The void inside my soul matches the silence inside this home.
And the thought of how I will move on from this is absent.
What now?
I don't want to face this reality.
I wrapped my grandmother's oversized knit sweater around me and stepped out the double glass patio doors, approaching her checkerboard white fence she used to hang the plants on.
I gazed out into the yard to find him; Bora, I called him again.
Her backyard is the size of a standard living room where you can see everything, and the trees are half-dead at the brown fence line; I would have easily spotted Bora, but he's not here.
Don't break, Gemma, I tell myself.
I pass the small white plant fence to stand in the middle of the yard, immobile to go back inside. I look in the direction he may have taken when he left, where the bushes are lower than the rest.
Should I... accept this?
The nights we spent together. The adventures we shared. Was it all to be left as memories? Is there something I could have done differently to prevent ending here?
"Gemma?" I hear a man call out to me that sounds like Bora. Is that you? Do you need my help? "Gemma, do you hear me?" The man says again. Yes, Bora, I hear you.
"Gemma?" I felt a strong nudge on my shoulder that made me subtly brighten up through a gloss film, hindering my vision.
"Adam?" I question as I see him and Malinda stand before me.
"Where's Bora?" Malinda asked.
I gaze away into the air, trying to stay strong when I answer. "Bora is gone," I crushed under the pressure of admitting it through a tightening throat.
"Gone?" Adam recited, which brought an intenser pain into my heart. I didn't repeat it. It hurts too much.
"To Alaska?" Malinda's voice shook, asking the question. I managed to nod my head.
"And he didn't say goodbye to us?" Adam sounded disappointed, rubbing through his hair and walking a short distance in distress.
Adam's feelings are justified. That was his son despite their conflict. I hear Malinda break into a whimper in the quiet night. I want to cry, but that is accepting he's gone.
