Anika was on a vacation at her granny Alisa’s place. She doesn’t miss a chance to get there. After all, it’s her dream home, to be precise, a villa, with whatever she could crave for – a huge pool, large reading room with a comfy sofa beside the French window, a beautiful garden full of fruit-bearing trees few yards beyond the window sill, a lawn to walk in the evening; and all these in a harmonious location in the outskirts of the city.

Creating every possible nuisance she could do to make her granny laugh and roaming around for a while, she settled peacefully with a book beyond the pool while Alisa left for an afternoon nap. The book wasn’t interesting enough to hold her already short attention span.

With a decision to dust up her childhood memories, she went in search of the photo albums piled in the storeroom. Accidentally, it was her granny’s diary that she stumbled upon. Who wouldn’t like to read a secret diary? Making up her mind that her granny wouldn’t hit on her teenage adventure, she opened the journal. The initial pages were dated a few months after her mother’s birth.

She was expecting interesting stories but all she gained were vintage photographs, few with captions. It started with pictures of her grandparents with her uncle and her mom as an infant, followed by a few mischiefs as they grew up. Then, she got to see her granddad’s workplace and their home. She was stunned.

They were standing in front of a small house. Anika somehow concluded it must have been their home. When she turned the pages further, she knew she was right. She saw an old and dull picture of the same house with a simple description written behind the photograph with her grandad’s signature. “I started my life here, with my true love. We are moving on, to a new place, leaving a piece of our soul here.”

With overwhelming emotions, Anika looked into the details of that house.

All she could see clearly was just a strong stone-framed wooden door with an embellished key inserted into a heart-shaped lock. This door said stories to her, about the love of her grandparents and the childhood of her mom. But, it was locked. So, it must hold many more spicy secrets, beyond doubt.

When she closed the album, Anika had developed immense respect for her granny. All these days, she had thought that these properties were inherited. But now, she was proved wrong.

Anika soon realized…

The hut was not just a home, rather a hallmark of love and hardwork, that stands still on memories alone.

With excitement to listen to more tales in a lively manner, she ran to wake her granny, in her unique style of joyous jump-walk.


This fiction is written in response to the ‘Thursday #writephoto Photo Prompt by Sue Vincent.

To know more about the prompt, go through the guidelines, on her blog.

31 thoughts on “Hallmark

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