It was a cold July night. She sat silently close to her burning stove for warmth. Firewood would've been better but recent weather meant none if you didn't save up during May. She flinched at the thought of May. It was a month of tears and uncertainty.
It all began on fourth of that deadly month. Her newborn calf fell into a well that was right in the middle of her homestead. Everyone including the children knew where it was and that it had a shoddy cover. It's old rusted iron was falling apart.
The village came to help get the calf out and rejoiced it was not a child. Her husband and his friend decided to descend in the well and get the now hurt calf out. Halfway down, a micro land slide hit the opening the well and it collapsed.
People froze for a second and the soil avalanche consumed those in the well. Some villagers left immediately saying her compound haunted by death. Others concluded she was a witch. Others stayed only to openly gossip about the dark forces that might be floating over her homestead. Only a few remained on her side.
She was numb. Within an hour, she had lost her husband and friends. She couldn't digest it until two weeks later when the bodies were retrieved. She wailed and cursed the new born calf. It had robbed her of her joy and peace. Mama, your food is burning! Her son dragged her back to the cold July night.
This piece was inspired by the amazing 
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