The sands of time By Minarva Priyadarshini

It was a peaceful afternoon in the small beach town where the waves lapped gently against the shore. The sky was painted in soft hues of orange and pink, as the sun began its slow descent into the horizon. Tourists and locals alike were scattered along the sandy beach, enjoying the calm breeze and the warmth of the day.

Among them, a young mother and her little boy strolled along the shore, the child happily clutching a small plastic spade in his tiny hands. His eyes sparkled with the innocent excitement of a boy eager to explore the world. They had come to this beach often, but today felt different. The boy was particularly fascinated by the sand, its texture, and the mysterious treasures it might hide beneath its golden surface.

The mother sat down on a blanket, watching as her son busied himself digging into the sand. His laughter filled the air as he eagerly pushed aside handfuls of sand, imagining himself uncovering a pirate’s treasure chest or some hidden relic from the past. As he dug deeper, his small spade suddenly hit something hard. With wide eyes, he knelt down and pulled at it.

It was a knife, rusty and stained, half-buried in the damp earth. Wrapped around it was an old cloth, stained with what appeared to be dried blood. The boy froze, unsure of what he had just discovered, and ran to his mother.

“Mama, look what I found!” he exclaimed, holding out the knife.

The mother’s heart skipped a beat when she saw it. The sight of the rusty weapon sent a chill down her spine. She gently took it from her son and studied it closely, her fingers trembling slightly as she noticed the dark, dried blood still clinging to the blade. Something was terribly wrong.

Her instincts told her to call the authorities, and within minutes, the beach was swarming with police officers. The mother described everything as best as she could—the knife, the cloth, the location of the discovery. The officers cordoned off the area, digging deeper into the sand.

It didn’t take long for the grim truth to emerge. The officers unearthed a human skeleton wrapped in tattered cloth, buried deep under the sand, its bones a chilling reminder of the violence that had taken place years ago.

As the investigation unfolded, the police discovered that a woman had been reported missing several years earlier. Her name had long since faded from the memories of the townspeople, and the case had gone cold. But now, with the discovery of the body, it was clear that her disappearance had been no accident.

The police worked tirelessly, piecing together the fragments of the past. They learned that the woman had been a local resident, married to a man who had claimed she had simply left him one day, never to return.

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But now, the truth was coming to light. With the discovery of the knife, the investigators had uncovered the final piece of the puzzle.

The woman's husband had been the murderer all along. In a fit of rage, he had killed her, wrapped her body in the cloth, and buried her in the sand, hoping the tides of time would erase his crime. For years, he had lived freely, unpunished, thinking no one would ever uncover his dark secret.

As the sun set on the beach, casting long shadows across the sand, the mother felt a deep unease settle within her. The horror of the situation weighed heavily on her, but she was also filled with a sense of relief that the truth had finally come to light.

In the background, two children—a boy and a girl—played with stones and dolls, unaware of the events that had unfolded just a few feet away. They dug into the sand, laughing as they buried their toys, imagining themselves on grand adventures. Their innocence was untouched by the grim reality surrounding them.

But as the mother watched them, a sudden memory flashed in her mind. Years ago, she had been a child, playing in this very same spot. She had been with her sister, digging holes and burying their toys in the sand, just like the children now. And then she remembered it—the same spot where they had found the knife. She had dug there before, years earlier. She had seen something, but had brushed it aside, thinking it was nothing.

Her heart raced as the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together. She had been there, unknowingly standing above the place where the woman's body had been buried all those years ago. Her childhood innocence had shielded her from the truth then, but now, as an adult, the reality hit her with full force.

Without thinking, she got up from her blanket and walked over to the spot where the children were playing. She knelt down and started digging, her hands working furiously through the sand. The children watched her, confused, but continued with their own play. Her heart pounded in her chest as she dug deeper, the memories flooding back.

Suddenly, she felt something hard under her fingertips. It wasn’t the knife this time, but a small locket, rusted and old. She pulled it from the sand and opened it, revealing a tiny, faded photograph inside—a photograph of the murdered woman, smiling with the same innocence that had once graced the mother’s own face.

Tears welled in her eyes as she realized the connection. She had been there all along, a silent witness to a crime buried in the sands of time. The memories, once buried deep in her subconscious, had resurfaced, bringing the truth with them.

The past had finally been unearthed, and with it, justice for a woman long forgotten.