THE FOLLOWING SHORT STORY WAS PUBLISHED & DISPLAYED AS PART OF THE ONTARIO CULTURE DAYS IN BURLINGTON, ONTARIO, CANADA, FROM SEPTEMBER 19TH TO OCTOBER 12TH 2025.

“Oh, I missed picking this up.” 

A twig here, a twig there. That’s all to it in life. 

Vast fields where I can see the whole world with my naked eye. I wonder what’s there beyond the horizon. Is something there or is it just the end of the world?  

That, undoubtedly, is the end of the world for me. 

Familiar faces every day. The same old field, the same old view, the same old hut, the same old bed. 

Sigh. That’s the sigh of content.  

One day I too will be married to a man who oversees how we clean the field. At least that’s what my dream is. I will bear a child, my own flesh and blood. A satisfied smile yet again. My whole life will revolve around her. Yes, it sure will be her. I won’t be able to bear seeing my child go far into the abyss and return home covered in coal dust, if he does return home. 

Life is simple as I think about the future. Waking up. Cleaning myself. Picking up a twig here, picking up a twig there.  

Sitting beside my mother, I wait for my father to come home as I watch the sunshine die down in orange lava. I eat and I go to sleep. 

What more is to life? Nothing else, of course.

– Prateek Godiyal