Give Me Some Time
Updated: Jan 5, 2019
For my Mother
The words echo: "kurachu samayam tha"
"kurachu samayam tha"
Give me some time… then darkness comes.
She weeps. She knows she’ll never feel the same. Time. In Malayalam—give me some time. Indian curse. She felt it. She didn’t pray enough. Her son was worth more than any diamond. Worth more than any piece of gold. He was singular. All the people knew. She knew. His friends knew, but she knew that he would slip away. Something would take him. But before…she—
—She stirs with grace & then she moves toward the fragile, scared boy. She watches him while he’s sleeping, only to protect him from darkness. It stirs outside. It took a boy a week ago. He slipped outside when no one was watching, and he was gone. Poof. Like that. Children were disappearing weekly. She wanted to make sure he didn’t disappear like any of the rest. She and her son never saw eye to eye—he wanted other things than she envisioned. They were opposites in that regard, but she never wanted him truly gone. Though, sometimes, when they fought she said some awful things—she never meant them fully. The night before her son’s disappearance they fought again about what he wanted to do with his life.
I want to write.
No. You go to med-school & live a good life.
This is what makes me happy.
Everything I ever done for you should make you happy.
& they would go at it for hours until the energy between them depleted.
The night before his disappearance his mother stared at him sleeping. She stared for hours. She felt some ominous feeling inside her. Like she knew bad was coming but didn’t know what to think of it or how to prevent it.
Then the wind stirred outside, and branches cracked. She paced back and forth. Her husband was away in India. She was alone in the house & the wind stirred. She heard the whispers all the other parents talked about right before their children disappeared. She heard steps. She heard the smooth pulling of the doors. She stood in his room. She looked at him. He was sound asleep. She couldn’t remember the last time he slept so peacefully. He would fall out of his bed. He would scream at night because of the nightmares. He was the singular child. The rebel. The riot. The everything. Her everything. The baby. The fear. The reminder. & the darkness was coming. What could be mended? How do we mend, amend what comes for us? It’s always too late.
"kurachu samayam tha"
Give me some time to make it right. Like that. Baby boy don’t let them take you.
She stood in his room. She heard the rumbling. He slept so peacefully. His dreams showed mercy tonight. She cried. She silently wept. She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to, but time made her so sleepy. No darkness… stay away. Leave him alone. He’s mine. I’m sorry for everything—for pushing him too much. I’m sorry. Leave him.
Her boy was handsome. Her boy was numb. Her boy was everything people needed but couldn’t have. The darkness was his only claim.
She prayed to God. She prayed the rosary. The hallway went from golden light to shadow. Darkness was there. They take children. No matter what age. Why did they take them? No one knew. Could she prevent it? Had anyone tried to?
Give me some time to make it right.
Give me some time. She prayed again. The boy was sleeping, so beautiful with every breath.
The darkness lingered outside his room. She stared ahead. The wind howled. It waited. She waited. Who would win?
The darkness. It always did.
"kurachu samayam tha”
Darkness—give me some time. I’ll give him some time. He can live the way he wants. I’ll bargain for his life. Take mine.
She closed her eyes. A moment went by. But it was too long.
She opened them. The light was back in the hallway.
She felt the emptiness. The warmth drained the room. What did it feel like to lose a piece of yourself?
She looked toward the bed.
He was gone. Give me some time, darkness, give me some time.
She rocked back and forth.
They said the darkness took children. They never knew why. But it happened, weekly.
"kurachu samayam tha"
Give me some time, don’t disappear…& when the darkness is near…is anyone ever ready?
Shawn Anto is 23 years old from Delano, California. He’s originally from Kerala, India. He currently studies at Cal State Bakersfield looking to receive his B.A. in English & Theatre. His writing has been featured in Orpheus literary journal, Internet Void, Ink & Voices and Mojave Heart Review.