A Ritual

Prose by Milana B.

9th-12th GRADE FINALIST FOR THE 2023 YOUTH CREATIVE WRITING CONTEST. Prompt: The story must be between 150–300 words, and must include ALL THREE OBJECTS: Birdhouse, glow stick, soap.

Jamie stepped back and stared at the birdhouse she had meticulously been decorating for the past two hours. The house itself wasn’t much, just a simple structure with a hole in the center big enough for birds to fit through. However, the walls had been beautifully refurbished, white and glittery silver swirls spiraling out from the middle, illuminating the walls with color, and more importantly, life. Jamie cracked a handful of glow sticks while the paint dried, the neon colors adding more light to the dim room. She carefully glued the glow sticks along the birdhouse’s sides. On the roof went 6 cobalt red hearts, 3 on each side, for her mom’s favorite color and lucky number.

“I miss you,” Jamie whispered to herself, gently picking up the birdhouse and fastening it on a low-hanging branch of the willow tree. She hiked up to her house in order to collect her cleaning supplies. She filled up a bucket halfway with water, throwing a sponge and rag inside, and took a bar of soap along with her. Lugging the bucket down the hill took some time, but she made it without any major spills. On her knees, she began to scrub the dirty stone in front of her. The grime slowly cleared, revealing a series of words. Addie Mitchell, 1973–2018. (Beneath it, messily carved, was, I love you, Mom.)

Going back up the hill one last time, Jamie put the supplies away, taking a candle and lighter down with her. She sat, lighting it. Shoulder to shoulder with her mother’s grave, willow tree behind her and birdhouse above, she stared at the sun setting over the pond as the smell of lavender filled the air.

“Happy birthday, Mom.” Jaime said, closing her eyes against the warm breeze.