Original Work: Love
Aug. 30th, 2004 10:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sarisiaI started writing this in government. It's probably where I got the horror vibe from. Anyway... I don't know what's up with the horror thing that I get with it. Taken at face value, it should just be a few loving moments between a mother and her son, but... :shakes head: At least that's how it'd started out to be. Now I've twisted into something that makes me think Stephen King.
Title: Love
Rating: 13 maybe. Depends on how you read it.
Genre: Dark, horror?
Warnings: Incestual hintings.
"How much to you love me?" the little boy asked as he adjusted a clasp on his overalls.
"I love you to the edge of the universe and back," the mother replied and redid the clasp herself when he'd twisted the strap. "I love you as much as you love the stars."
The little boy smiled and threw his arms around his mother's neck. "I love you more."
The mother smiled in reply and clutched at her son's frail form. Any child was breakable. Their bones were as a bird's -- easily broken and crushed into powder. Their muscles were weak and their skin was shallow. Their skulls were not at all up to the task of standing up to all the dangerous things that children did these days. All that running and jumping and falling down...
"Would you do anything for me, my son?"
He pretended to think on the question for a long moment. "Not anything," he told her and smiled again, sugar sweet. "But I would do everything you wanted me to, Momma."
"That's a good boy," she praised and kissed him on the cheek. "Come now. Time for bed."
---*
"Mom! I'm home!"
The boy walked into his home as a teenager, backpack slung over his shoulder and a large t-shirt hanging past his waist. His long feet padded against the hard wood floors as he searched for his mother. He found her in her favorite chair in the living room, light blue eyes shining when they found him.
"There you are," she said. "I'd been wondering where you'd run off to."
"School, Mom," the son explained. "I go there every day now. You know that." He leaned forward to land a peck on her cheek. "Is there anything you want?"
"Just one thing. For you to be a very good boy." Her hand touched his cheek. "Oh, you're doing very well. I'm so proud of you." She held up her hands and the son pulled her out of the chair and led her to the kitchen, where she began to fix a sandwich. "Have you seen the stars yet? They're very beautiful."
"Not as beautiful as you, Mom."
"Such a sweetheart."
"That's what Sarah says."
"Sarah? Who's Sarah?"
"A girl. I like her. She's almost as beautiful as the stars. And she speaks very nicely."
"And her handwriting?"
"Elegant. Loopy. Full of curves."
"The pen of a whore. I don't want you seeing her. Get the thoughts of her out of your mind. She'll destroy you."
The son's eyes flashed brightly for a moment and he stared as his mother. He padded toward her and stopped the knife that had been slicing tomatoes with a slick efficiency. "Take the thoughts out for me."
---*
The mother and son lived in a house too large to be useful for just two people, but even though they were rich and were willing to rent out rooms to people needing them, no one took them up on their offer. Everyone knew what went on in that house. What didn't happen in that house was really the true question. With the pretty gardens and the fresh paint and the dust-free windows, it looked like the perfect place for people to live. A huge, perfect mansion that made school children silence their laughter before they passed.
There was a secret hidden in the walls of that house. And everyone knew it.
The mother was a very beautiful woman. Long brown hair and a fair face that told of her years as a model in the big cities. She'd set up camp in this small town when she'd gotten pregnant -- by one of her agents, no doubt -- and retired from the runway. A strange story, to be sure, considering that no reporters from the major news papers ever showed up for an update on her "normal life."
The son was just as handsome as his mother was beautiful. He was tall and strong and his hair was just as brown, just as wavy as his mothers. His skin was just as fair and blemish-free. Women longed to have his looks. Men longed to have the women that followed the son around. But the son had never taken a girl for his own.
That was what had gotten the people talking in the first place...
"Do you remember what I'd told you when you were a little boy?" the mother asked.
"I remember a lot of what you told me."
"Do you remember me telling you how mothers and sons are related?" The son nodded. "Tell me, then."
"You said that a mother and son are connected through everything. Our blood is the same. Our bodies are the same. Our souls are the same. We share everything."
The mother smiled at him. "Very good. You are a very good boy. I'm very proud of you." She took his hand and kissed his fingers. "Do you touch yourself?"
"What?"
"Do you touch yourself?" The mother smiled again and bit her lip. "I do. Every night." She pulled his hand and slipped it beneath her skirt. "My body is the same as yours remember. Be my fingers."
:shivers: Creepy ending... I shouldn't leave it there.
Title: Love
Rating: 13 maybe. Depends on how you read it.
Genre: Dark, horror?
Warnings: Incestual hintings.
"How much to you love me?" the little boy asked as he adjusted a clasp on his overalls.
"I love you to the edge of the universe and back," the mother replied and redid the clasp herself when he'd twisted the strap. "I love you as much as you love the stars."
The little boy smiled and threw his arms around his mother's neck. "I love you more."
The mother smiled in reply and clutched at her son's frail form. Any child was breakable. Their bones were as a bird's -- easily broken and crushed into powder. Their muscles were weak and their skin was shallow. Their skulls were not at all up to the task of standing up to all the dangerous things that children did these days. All that running and jumping and falling down...
"Would you do anything for me, my son?"
He pretended to think on the question for a long moment. "Not anything," he told her and smiled again, sugar sweet. "But I would do everything you wanted me to, Momma."
"That's a good boy," she praised and kissed him on the cheek. "Come now. Time for bed."
---*
"Mom! I'm home!"
The boy walked into his home as a teenager, backpack slung over his shoulder and a large t-shirt hanging past his waist. His long feet padded against the hard wood floors as he searched for his mother. He found her in her favorite chair in the living room, light blue eyes shining when they found him.
"There you are," she said. "I'd been wondering where you'd run off to."
"School, Mom," the son explained. "I go there every day now. You know that." He leaned forward to land a peck on her cheek. "Is there anything you want?"
"Just one thing. For you to be a very good boy." Her hand touched his cheek. "Oh, you're doing very well. I'm so proud of you." She held up her hands and the son pulled her out of the chair and led her to the kitchen, where she began to fix a sandwich. "Have you seen the stars yet? They're very beautiful."
"Not as beautiful as you, Mom."
"Such a sweetheart."
"That's what Sarah says."
"Sarah? Who's Sarah?"
"A girl. I like her. She's almost as beautiful as the stars. And she speaks very nicely."
"And her handwriting?"
"Elegant. Loopy. Full of curves."
"The pen of a whore. I don't want you seeing her. Get the thoughts of her out of your mind. She'll destroy you."
The son's eyes flashed brightly for a moment and he stared as his mother. He padded toward her and stopped the knife that had been slicing tomatoes with a slick efficiency. "Take the thoughts out for me."
---*
The mother and son lived in a house too large to be useful for just two people, but even though they were rich and were willing to rent out rooms to people needing them, no one took them up on their offer. Everyone knew what went on in that house. What didn't happen in that house was really the true question. With the pretty gardens and the fresh paint and the dust-free windows, it looked like the perfect place for people to live. A huge, perfect mansion that made school children silence their laughter before they passed.
There was a secret hidden in the walls of that house. And everyone knew it.
The mother was a very beautiful woman. Long brown hair and a fair face that told of her years as a model in the big cities. She'd set up camp in this small town when she'd gotten pregnant -- by one of her agents, no doubt -- and retired from the runway. A strange story, to be sure, considering that no reporters from the major news papers ever showed up for an update on her "normal life."
The son was just as handsome as his mother was beautiful. He was tall and strong and his hair was just as brown, just as wavy as his mothers. His skin was just as fair and blemish-free. Women longed to have his looks. Men longed to have the women that followed the son around. But the son had never taken a girl for his own.
That was what had gotten the people talking in the first place...
"Do you remember what I'd told you when you were a little boy?" the mother asked.
"I remember a lot of what you told me."
"Do you remember me telling you how mothers and sons are related?" The son nodded. "Tell me, then."
"You said that a mother and son are connected through everything. Our blood is the same. Our bodies are the same. Our souls are the same. We share everything."
The mother smiled at him. "Very good. You are a very good boy. I'm very proud of you." She took his hand and kissed his fingers. "Do you touch yourself?"
"What?"
"Do you touch yourself?" The mother smiled again and bit her lip. "I do. Every night." She pulled his hand and slipped it beneath her skirt. "My body is the same as yours remember. Be my fingers."
:shivers: Creepy ending... I shouldn't leave it there.
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