smile to my lips, the need to laugh coming on strong. I wanted to let one good guffaw out, one last laugh. To say, at least once, that they didn’t have control over me.
I smiled and let the chuckle escape, throwing my head back against the paneling of the kitchen island as the rippling happiness swept over me. The feeling leaving quickly as my vision dimmed to black.
I shook my head, trying to wake myself up. My eyes opened to the kitchen and my mother’s face swam before my eyes.
My eyes widened at seeing her there, surprise rocking through me. I sat up, but her face faded at my movement, her smiling face fading into the grey. Great, I was hallucinating. As if I needed more of a reminder about what was coming for me.
“You come to get me, Mom?” I laughed as my vision faded, only to return with another faded memory of my mother. Her, looking out the window, scolding me not to hide in shadows. If only she knew how true her words were and how little there was that I could do about it.
I was stuck in the shadows.
I looked away from my hallucination, my eyes scanning the darkness almost waiting for the rest of my brothers to appear.
“I guess this is it, Frances,” I whispered as I turned my head toward her web that occupied the now bare shelf. “I told you, you should have taken the chandelier.”
I wanted to imagine her looking at me, her laughing and saying something wise.
I should have named her Charlotte.
I grinned at the memory of my mother reading that story to me after my brother, Travis, was born and I was feeling exceptionally alone. She would do all the voices and she was terrible at it, which was probably better. I laughed more when she read that book rather than cried. Charlotte’s Web was a comedy to me. I was in Junior High before I realized that the spider actually died.
My vision faded in and out as I watched her web; as my face burned and my body ached.
“I’m sorry, Cohen,” I said, wishing I could at least make it up the stairs to see him one last time. I would just have to make do with ghost mom.
I had barely gotten his name out before I saw it. My eyes focused beyond Frances’s web to the brown packet she had enclosed in her web.
Food.
My body jumped in a mad dash to get at it, arms flailing and legs moving, only to collapse right back to the ground as my legs forgot how to support me. I scuttled across the floor as I brought myself back up, ready to try again. This time I hoisted myself up, my arms clinging to the counter as I pulled myself up in a desperate attempt to get to the food.
I didn’t even watch where I was reaching. I simply plunged my hand through the web, ripping it apart as my fingers curled around the brown packet of gruel.
My body collapsed to the ground the second I gripped it in my fingers. I sunk against the piles of trash on the floor, bringing the packet to my lips and ripping it open with my teeth. I didn’t look for a bowl. I just pressed my lips to the small opening and squeezed, sighing as the disgusting material hit my tongue.
It tasted like vomit and smelled like sewage. It was probably a few months old, however I didn’t care. It was food. I sucked and squeezed until every last drop was gone and then I ripped the packet open to lick the slimy contents off the silver lined paper.
I licked and, with each lick, I sighed while letting the grit hit my tongue to slide down my throat. I licked until the paper was clean and the ache in my stomach wasn’t as bad. I felt the residual twinge rumble through me as I looked at the packet; the brown paper of other packets littered the floor below it.
An overlooked plethora of nourishment had been around me this entire time, hidden in the linings of the discarded food packets that I had merely thrown on the floor over the years. I grabbed them without caring how old they were and ripped them open; my fingers shaking as I reveled in the dried bits of gruel.
I licked every packet I could find, letting as much
I smiled and let the chuckle escape, throwing my head back against the paneling of the kitchen island as the rippling happiness swept over me. The feeling leaving quickly as my vision dimmed to black.
I shook my head, trying to wake myself up. My eyes opened to the kitchen and my mother’s face swam before my eyes.
My eyes widened at seeing her there, surprise rocking through me. I sat up, but her face faded at my movement, her smiling face fading into the grey. Great, I was hallucinating. As if I needed more of a reminder about what was coming for me.
“You come to get me, Mom?” I laughed as my vision faded, only to return with another faded memory of my mother. Her, looking out the window, scolding me not to hide in shadows. If only she knew how true her words were and how little there was that I could do about it.
I was stuck in the shadows.
I looked away from my hallucination, my eyes scanning the darkness almost waiting for the rest of my brothers to appear.
“I guess this is it, Frances,” I whispered as I turned my head toward her web that occupied the now bare shelf. “I told you, you should have taken the chandelier.”
I wanted to imagine her looking at me, her laughing and saying something wise.
I should have named her Charlotte.
I grinned at the memory of my mother reading that story to me after my brother, Travis, was born and I was feeling exceptionally alone. She would do all the voices and she was terrible at it, which was probably better. I laughed more when she read that book rather than cried. Charlotte’s Web was a comedy to me. I was in Junior High before I realized that the spider actually died.
My vision faded in and out as I watched her web; as my face burned and my body ached.
“I’m sorry, Cohen,” I said, wishing I could at least make it up the stairs to see him one last time. I would just have to make do with ghost mom.
I had barely gotten his name out before I saw it. My eyes focused beyond Frances’s web to the brown packet she had enclosed in her web.
Food.
My body jumped in a mad dash to get at it, arms flailing and legs moving, only to collapse right back to the ground as my legs forgot how to support me. I scuttled across the floor as I brought myself back up, ready to try again. This time I hoisted myself up, my arms clinging to the counter as I pulled myself up in a desperate attempt to get to the food.
I didn’t even watch where I was reaching. I simply plunged my hand through the web, ripping it apart as my fingers curled around the brown packet of gruel.
My body collapsed to the ground the second I gripped it in my fingers. I sunk against the piles of trash on the floor, bringing the packet to my lips and ripping it open with my teeth. I didn’t look for a bowl. I just pressed my lips to the small opening and squeezed, sighing as the disgusting material hit my tongue.
It tasted like vomit and smelled like sewage. It was probably a few months old, however I didn’t care. It was food. I sucked and squeezed until every last drop was gone and then I ripped the packet open to lick the slimy contents off the silver lined paper.
I licked and, with each lick, I sighed while letting the grit hit my tongue to slide down my throat. I licked until the paper was clean and the ache in my stomach wasn’t as bad. I felt the residual twinge rumble through me as I looked at the packet; the brown paper of other packets littered the floor below it.
An overlooked plethora of nourishment had been around me this entire time, hidden in the linings of the discarded food packets that I had merely thrown on the floor over the years. I grabbed them without caring how old they were and ripped them open; my fingers shaking as I reveled in the dried bits of gruel.
I licked every packet I could find, letting as much
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