Zoe My Son
Zoe my Son.... A short story
The year had come to an end. The rains were not coming. People walked cursing the sun-scotched ground. The air was hot, feeling my nostrils with a burning sensation.
The elders cursed the gods for the bareness of the soil while sacrificing endlessly the few remaining goats to appease the ancestors.
A sudden kick inside my belly reminded me that I was carrying a child. I listened in silence as he played with gusto not worried of his future or my hunger.
I know it’s a boy, my mother had told me that a boy kicks from sideways. I could only agree then, but now I believe. A song escaped from my tighten lips “come Zoe my child, come Zoe my son”