The Yellow Hood
by Anahit Arustamyan

The Yellow Hood is a story that was created by my mother. It was long ago, but I seem to be still hearing the familiar sound of her old typewriter.
Most of the stories get published and remain, but the story tellers leave forever. Through the huge waves of time they also seem to be tales that were told or written once upon a time.
''Auntie, tell me a fairytale,'' said little Nara to my mom.
''O, yes, my honey, I will tell you The Red Hood while you are in your cozy small bed, waiting for only sweet dreams in your peaceful sleep. Look, the yellow moon in its slow dance with the smiling stars in the dark night sky, but you are still awake,'' my mom said to Nara.
''Yellow moon, auntie, no, no, don't tell me The Red Hood. I have heard it many times. Don't you know another fairytale? You have just said something about the yellow moon. Tell me The Yellow Hood, please,'' Nara exclaimed.
My mother hesitated for a moment as she never heard of any fairytale that was called '' The Yellow Hood.'' She was a published children's writer with the gift to create catchy stories for children.
''Now close your eyes and listen to the story about a little girl with a yellow hood on her curly-haired head, '' my mom said to little Nara.
'' The Yellow Hood'' appeared in my mother's book for children that was entitled ''Good Night.''
Many years passed. Nara grew up and became a graphic artist. My mother died, leaving her books on the bookshelves. Nara always remembered her caring aunt, but she might have forgotten the stories that my mother told her in her childhood.
The cruel cancer caught Nara with its bloody claws in her adulthood.
I remember the painful episodes of her last days. She was glued to her bed and could hardly move.
''Sister,'' she called me in her trembling voice. She was my cousin, but we were just sisters. We grew up together and lived under the same roof.
''I can't sleep as I am in pain,'' she said almost crying. It seemed that painkilling pill was unable to relieve her pain.
''Can't you sleep, my honey sister,'' I whispered to her.
''I have just remembered my aunt's story ''Yellow Hood.'' She told me the tales when I was a little girl and refused to sleep,'' Nara said suddenly. For a moment she spoke cheerfully like a carefree child.
''I forgot the story as it was so long ago. O, wait a minute! I will get the book to read,'' I said to Nara, hoping that she was getting better.
I ran to the bookshelf and took the book off the shelf in my haste. It was published in 1972. The paper cover looked faded, but the sun was shining brightly above the emerald forest. The sun didn't hide itself in the dark night sky on the book cover. It was my mom's imagination for her book '' Good Night.''Nara kept her eyes closed while I was reading. I thought that she was still listening to her childhood's story. I was unable to understand that she was climbing to the same sky that was illustrated on the book cover of my mother's book ''Good Night.''
The Yellow Hood is a tale. What is life? The last line comes before the end of the story.