Flash fiction using the words: pink, square, lost
Growing up I never realized that I was always in the pink of health. While kids around me took off sick days, had scrapes and bruises, nothing of that sort ever happened to me. My parents made nothing of it saying I was a responsible and disciplined kid.
Our house was an ancestral one in South India and had an open square in the middle surrounded by rooms on all four sides. In the center of the space stood a large black oblong stone. My grandmother used to decorate it with flowers. I thought it was our family deity and thought nothing of it.
I was about seventeen when things changed. Normally a sound sleeper, I woke up to muted whispers outside my door. I scrambled outside and was stunned to see a large gathering of people around the large stone.
It was glowing white like an incandescent tube. People turned to me as I staggered towards the stone, a powerful force pulling me to it.
I had to touch it.
The stone turned green. I realized that everyone was now kneeling down and I looked around to see who they were praying to.
It was to me.
The throng produced my father who walked towards me.
“It is time,” he said. “You are a divine being and are here on the earth for a purpose,”
At that moment, I realized I was lost.