Cult

short story: Mama Frog

Hey Guys,

As mentioned in my previous mini A/N, I wanted to share a short story with you guys. I've been writing a lot for my fiction and poetry classes, so I was hoping I could show you guys some work and get feedback. I'd be curious to see where you guys think I need improvement. Also, please beware that this short story has dark elements (as does most of my work). I don't expect everyone to be able to read it without feeling a bit uncomfortable. 

P.S. I'll be updating CULT in the next couple days. 

Best,

Mariam Xx

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Mama Frog

It was the spring of 1961. The tall wet grasses sprouted in tufts around the lake, like the few hairs on a balding man. Yusef took his shoes off and folded the cuffs of his trousers up neatly, just enough to reveal his small ankles. Then he dipped his big toe in, testing the water. It was cozy, but the smooth rocks under the soles of his feet were cool. He picked up a few rocks and skid them across the lake, careful not to hit any of the water creatures.

According to Yusef’s watch, it was 4:00 pm, time for chai and sweets, but he wasn’t very thirsty. He walked deeper into the murky water, where the tadpoles and other creatures came up around his toes and licked them. The mama frog croaked loudly. It made Yusef chuckle so he reached for the mama frog and pet her slimy discolored green skin. He kept reaching for her, wondering if the tadpoles would nibble harder on his toes until he left their mama alone.

Yusef thought about his sick mother. Neither his father nor his older sister Ria would tell him what exactly was the matter. It was hard to tell back then, not just because modern technology wasn’t advanced enough, but Yusef was only a child. Adults never liked telling children the truth for fear of tarnishing their innocence.

“Yusef jaan,” Mama called. Yusef dropped the sharp rocks from his small fist so quickly that they fell on his bare toes. He ignored the slight, brief pain and rushed into the house.

He brought a cup of green chai with a hint of ginger to mama’s shaking hands and helped fluff her pillow. She pursed her lips, taking a long sip. Yusef sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to wrinkle it.

“Mama, are you getting better?” he asked, patting her shoulder softly.

Mama laughed, amused by Yusef’s impatience.

“There’s an art show at school at the end of the year and my painting is the centerpiece, mama.  I hope you can come,” Yusef nodded quickly.

Mama smiled. She had dimples in her grin line. “Of course, honey.”

She patted Yusef’s forehead, his crew cut was growing shaggier.

“You look like James Dean in those Western movies, jaanim,” she teased. Yusef had seen every John Wayne and J.D. film to come to Afghanistan— even though they were dubbed in melodramatic Iranian voices.

“I’ll go to America one day, mama, and I’ll bring you Levi jeans and Coca-Cola and then I’ll see France and get you mini jupes and—”

“Mini jupes? My veiny legs are a pitiful sight. How about you buy one for Ria jaan? I bet she’ll attract a handsome number of suitors,” she laughed slowly.

Ria walked in briskly and scolded Yusef for having sat on the bed with his wet feet and trousers.

“Hurry up, Yusef, dinner will be ready in an hour,” Ria rolled her eyes. Yusef gave mama a kiss before leaving.