Short Story: The Last Goodbye

Umar Hayat Hussain narrates a poignant tale of love and loss, reminding us how important for us to protect our surroundings.

It was cold outside. Snowflakes drifted down from the sky like feathers shaken loose from invisible wings. The weatherman had predicted more to come in the coming days, and the valley was already buried beneath a white silence. All roads leading to the village, far from the city and deeper still from the noise of the world, were closed. For two days, heavy machinery had been clearing paths, fighting the stubborn layers of snow, so that essentials might reach the people trapped in this remote paradise. Inside their homes, villagers were running out of food and firewood. They prayed for the skies to stop weeping so they could return to the rhythm of life.

In one far corner of the village, away from the chatter of neighbors and the crunch of shovels against frozen ground, stood a small mud hut. Smoke curled faintly from its chimney. This was the home of Rehman and his two sons, who had lived there for twenty years. Their house clung to the edge of a narrow stream that glistened even in the frost, its waters singing a lullaby as they ran downhill. Behind their hut rose the lush green mountains, hidden now under a white quilt but no less majestic. Travelers often came from distant lands to catch a glimpse of this little corner of Eden. Many stopped by Rehman’s home, sharing bread by his fire or staying the night. These visits, modest as they were, gave him his livelihood and a sense of pride.