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Winston has an insane mother, so insane that she is ready to kill him...
readers beware!

~dark short stroy~


Submitted:May 30, 2009    Reads: 180    Comments: 8    Likes: 2   


"Mommy, please don't." Winston whispered in a hush tone, shaking rapidly from the coursing of fear through out his weak body.
His mother gave him a peculiar glance, her hair all askew, and drenched in scarlet liquid, as too her face was smudged with seeping blood.

She's been cutting again.

"What is it Winnie?" his mother sobbed half hysterically in a sadistic tone as she aimed the gleaming blade of the kitchen knife to Winston's coursing blood vessel that was pumping feverously with fear.

"Do I scare you?"

His mother's psychotic grey eyes flooded with tears mixing with the blood on her cheeks, forming a pink liquid. Her slit hands drenched with crimson blood, seeping down her elbow and to her bare feet.

She shook; and effect from the drugs probably, the knife from her hand slipping to the ground, missing her toe just by an inch. Winston embraced his mother that was streaming red tears, her hair in a tangle of web, wafting of dried blood and beer.

Winston soon dissolved to his room, and left his mother alone on the couch, in an hour, her second personality would take over, and all would be well for a short period of time.

That's the only thing that Winston looked forward from his mother, her second, more loving and nurturing persona; the one that was more like a mother to him. But dread welled up inside of him when he thought that it would only last for an hour.

Winston was seven years old, and was forced to take care of his dieing mother, since his father had left the both of them when his mother was diagnosed with a rare multiple personal several years ago.

The abandonment had made his mother's condition worse, leaving her first personality insane and psychotic. Because his father had left, they both were poor, and his mother was not able to pay for treatment. The burden was left for little Winston to carry.

Winston came downstairs to the smell of turkey cooking, and mash potatoes being buttered. His mother was in the kitchen, cooking over a stove, her face still meshed in blood, but a kind look gleaming from her eyes.

"Hello, Winston, how was school, darling?" his mother asked, mixing the butter in with the potatoes. Winston nodded, once again pretending nothing had happened just sixty minutes ago. It was better this way; for his mother not to know the pain and fright she caused him every night…

"Great mom! Henry, in P.E. was awesome! He threw the basket all the way from across the gym, and it landed right in the basket. He said to me today that he was gonna be a basket ball player when he grows up!" Winston replied seating at the dinning table as his mother set the platter.

"That's great hun, did you do your homework? You know I want to only see "E"s on your progress report!" His mother poured a glass of milk for him, and some water for herself. She only drank alcohol during her other personal.

They each started their dinner, picking away at the turkey and mash potatoes, exchanging small talk to pass the time. Soon Winston noticed that the hour had passed, and it was time to go to bed.

He thanked his mother for dinner, and started out the kitchen when his mother called to him. "Win, do me a favor and wash the dishes tonight, I'm feeling really tired today." She smiled to him, and then suddenly her eyes changed.

Winston didn't know how it happened but it just did, it was her other personal taking over. Her eyes changed from the gleaming silver, to the dark insane grey. Her teeth clenched together and her fists tightened.
"I said to wash the fuckin' dishes!" she hollered throwing the china plate across the kitchen, grasping her head as a low snarl escaped her throat. "You never listen to me, you piece of shit!"
Winston's knees buckled, fright rushing through him as his hands grew colder with nerve. He felt a lump forming in his throat, but he knew better then to cry; she hated that more than anything.

It will go away, it will go away.

Winston rocked himself back and forth trying to sooth the horrible fear that was welling inside of his guts. His mother took the half full water glass and threw it to the wall, hitting Winston slightly on the head. He whimpered silently in pain.

The glass had cut his forehead, and a slowly trickle of blood blurred his eyes. He wasn't afraid of blood any more, he had seen it so much; his own, and his mother's.
"I said wash the fuckin' dishes, you retard!" his mother dumped the left over meal on the floor, hysterically shaking, breaking everything in reach.

"You're such an ass, just like your bitch father!" she screamed, her tears flooding from her eyes, making the dried blood on her cheeks moist.

Winston calmed himself down, and started to clean the mess his mother had made without another word. His mother threw her fist to the side of his head, pushing him to the ground, his head throbbing pain.

"I'm so damn tired of you! I should just go kill myself so I won't see your bitchy face ever again!" she screamed looking for the knife and starting to slice at her wrists. Winston wasn't scared for her by now; he knew she wouldn't cut deep enough to die; although sometimes he wished she did…

"Mommy, its okay, I will listen. I'm sorry…" he tried to sooth her. She stopped cutting away, and cried loudly of pain.

"Its you! You did this to me!" she turned the blade towards his direction, aiming the point to his neck. "You have to die!" She plunged to him, but Winston dodged, and she fell helplessly to the floor, her wrists streaming blood.

Winston was scared now. She didn't usually thrust at him like she just did.

She sat up, looking at his crystal clear eyes, wishing death to her only son. She glided towards him, dripping a pool of her own blood.

Winston again scurried away from her movement, and his mother fell to her stomach. She didn't move for quite a time, so Winston checked on her, and noticed that the blade had gone in through her stomach.

His mother twitched, and crawled towards him.

"Join me, join me!" his mother begged, the wound on her stomach soaking blood. Her jet back hair was dried with her blood, scars around her eyes. She looked horrifying, her lips bleeding with scabs.

"Join me, Winnie." His mother let out with her last sigh of breath. Winston sat near his mother, in the pool of her own blood, staring at the shining knife pierced into his mother's stomach.

This has been a Dark short story, check out more in the collection…that is…if you dare…

~please leave a detail comment, means more then you know!~





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