A Mother's Love

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Encourage Writing Inc.

Submitted: October 07, 2018

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Submitted: October 07, 2018

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My fingers clench at the countertop as I look out of the kitchen window. My body vibrates like a tuning fork as I grind my teeth together. I can hear your heavy footsteps slapping against the tile floor. I can just imagine what you look like. You would be in your thomas the train footie pajamas, the ones with a hole in the bottom of the left foot leg. Your hair would be tousled in unruly brown spikes, and in your hand would be your constant companion: a spotted dalmatian, named Henry, that is more brown than white since you insist on taking it everywhere you go. When your small hand pats at my hip, I force myself to look away from the window. Just as expected, your hair is standing up on end and Henry is tucked securely against your side. “Hungee.” You mumble as you tug insistently on my shirt. Playfully, I run my hand through your hair until I come my fingers glide across a patch of new sores. “Owie Mommy. No hurt!” Your little two year old self cries indignantly. My heart breaks at the discovery of more sores on your frail body. Your chubby hands swat at me and reach for my belly. After a few moments, your face scrunches up and your eyes implore me with a puzzled look. “No move?” You whine softly. I shove the sob down that threatens to break loose. I don’t have the heart to tell you that your baby sister died, and why...With a sing song voice I try to soothe you, “She’s just sleeping sweety. Come on, let’s make pancakes.” Your squeals of delight give me a rush of joy, but only for a moment. You moan in happiness and pain as you try to eat the mushy pancakes around the open sores. Idly, you reach up with sticky fingers, and with horror, I watch a handful of hair fall into your palm. All at once your food is forgotten as you stare with wide eyes at your once soft locks. “Mommy?” you ask uncertainty. For a few seconds, your small form is obscured as I fight to hold back the wave of tears. I know what I have to do now. Despite my best efforts, the tears fall ina heavy flow, and I gasp from the force of it. Instantly, you fall apart as well. Guilt and shame flood through me as you cry in fright. Ignoring your sticky hands, I scoop you up and hold you tight. Your hands automatically wrap around me as you nuzzle against my neck. I hum a tunelessly along as I bounce you up and down around the room. The pain is excruciating as your body rubs against my sores, but I continue anyways. Through my circuit in the kitchen, I end up back at the window. Before I look up, I bury my nose deep into your hair to capture your sweet innocence one more time. Instead of smelling the forever lingering scent of baby powder, I smell something else: rot, decay, death. Your cries are only quiet whimpers down as you settle down. Reluctantly, I raise my gaze to look out the window. Ashes still fall from the sky in a flurry. Bodies lay in heaps in various positions. Some are holding loved ones, possessions, or just reaching out in desperation. Yet they all have one thing in common. Each one is covered in festering, oozing, discolored wounds. A dog walks comes into view as it stumbles drunkenly across the street. It collapses in a heap before it even makes it halfway across. Its body sends ashes flying up in small puff before it settles back down onto the dying animal. “Come now sweetie. It’s time.” I murmur softly. You never respond or move as I carry you limply to the bathroom. Leaving the lights off, I sit on the edge of the tub as I run the warm water. You groan weakly as I gently undress you. Henry slips from your fingers to lie forgotten on the floor. Once the tub is completely full, I slowly lower your body until all but your head is under the water. Your head lolls against my forearm as you drift off to sleep. In the darkened room, I can almost pretend that your little body is healthy and perfect once more. But it’s not nor will it ever be again. With trembling lips, I plant a delicate kiss on your brow. “I love you little one. Forgive me.” I manage to choke out before completely submerging you under the water.


© Copyright 2018 Little Meeper. All rights reserved.

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