Original Work: From the Hands of a Mother
Sep. 20th, 2004 07:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sarisiaTitle: From the Hand of a Mother
Rating: PG, PG-13
He could remember when he'd woken up late in the night near Christmas. He'd been so excited about Santa Claus coming to his house that he'd decided to wait in the living room for him. Santa didn't come to the school. He hadn't expected to see his mother there instead, bare skin flushed in the firelight as she spoke quietly and firmly. The circle of candles and the words she said told them all he needed to know. He knew about those things from the school his father sent him to. The teachers had told them to watch out for those things and avoid them at all costs.
They were the signs of evil.
That night he'd cried himself to sleep because he'd known that his mother had sold her soul to the devil and that there was no way that he could help her.
"I hate you!" he shouted.
The heat of anger had carried him so far as to shout the sour words that had, for years, hovered on the tip of his tongue. He couldn't stand her or her sinful ways. He knew her secrets. He'd kept them in his heart out of fear, but no longer. With all her critisizing, it was only a matter of time before the dam broke before his emotions. She was always pushing for more, for talents and abilities he didn't and never would have. Always keeping him from seeing his friends. Always hovering around his shoulder. Giving him responsibilties and then treating him as if he were a child.
It only made it worse that she was a blasphemous pagan.
"Don't do this. Don't do that. Make sure you do this." He pressed closer to her and peered down at her. "I'm tired of you always being around, you fucking witch!"
She was trembling in his presence. Her lips had thinned and her face had gone chalky white. Her graying hair fell in tangles around her shoulders and her eyes had gone wide. He took pride in having made her look so haggard. To think that this powerful witch had nearly pissed herself because of his anger.
"That's right," he hissed at her. "I know what you are and I wish that Dad were here to know it too. I hope you burn in hell!"
His head jerked to the side when she slapped him. When he turned to her, she was still staring at him with her wide eyes, but they were filled with tears. She held her wrist against her lips as she tried to stem the tide of her sobs and she stumbled into a chair. Her son scrambled away from her and pressed himself against the wall.
"What did you do?" he demanded and winced at himself.
She tried to keep her eyes on him, but she glanced away a few moments at a time.
He screamed, "What did you do!" His fingers clawed at his scalp. "What did you do to me!"
A cry broke past the mother's lips and she stubbornly folded her hands in her lap as she looked away, pursing her lips again. "I did..." She halted when another wrenching scream burst from her son's throat. "I did the only thing I thought I could do."
The son lay flat on the floor. His breathing was labored and his chest rose and fell as if he were trapped. His eyes darted to each corner and his hands clenched at the soft rug. Carefully, the mother approached. She smoothed back his hair and whispered to him.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry. I only gave you what I thought you needed most."
Her son's lips trembled as they moved. "What... what was that?"
"Love."
Rating: PG, PG-13
He could remember when he'd woken up late in the night near Christmas. He'd been so excited about Santa Claus coming to his house that he'd decided to wait in the living room for him. Santa didn't come to the school. He hadn't expected to see his mother there instead, bare skin flushed in the firelight as she spoke quietly and firmly. The circle of candles and the words she said told them all he needed to know. He knew about those things from the school his father sent him to. The teachers had told them to watch out for those things and avoid them at all costs.
They were the signs of evil.
That night he'd cried himself to sleep because he'd known that his mother had sold her soul to the devil and that there was no way that he could help her.
"I hate you!" he shouted.
The heat of anger had carried him so far as to shout the sour words that had, for years, hovered on the tip of his tongue. He couldn't stand her or her sinful ways. He knew her secrets. He'd kept them in his heart out of fear, but no longer. With all her critisizing, it was only a matter of time before the dam broke before his emotions. She was always pushing for more, for talents and abilities he didn't and never would have. Always keeping him from seeing his friends. Always hovering around his shoulder. Giving him responsibilties and then treating him as if he were a child.
It only made it worse that she was a blasphemous pagan.
"Don't do this. Don't do that. Make sure you do this." He pressed closer to her and peered down at her. "I'm tired of you always being around, you fucking witch!"
She was trembling in his presence. Her lips had thinned and her face had gone chalky white. Her graying hair fell in tangles around her shoulders and her eyes had gone wide. He took pride in having made her look so haggard. To think that this powerful witch had nearly pissed herself because of his anger.
"That's right," he hissed at her. "I know what you are and I wish that Dad were here to know it too. I hope you burn in hell!"
His head jerked to the side when she slapped him. When he turned to her, she was still staring at him with her wide eyes, but they were filled with tears. She held her wrist against her lips as she tried to stem the tide of her sobs and she stumbled into a chair. Her son scrambled away from her and pressed himself against the wall.
"What did you do?" he demanded and winced at himself.
She tried to keep her eyes on him, but she glanced away a few moments at a time.
He screamed, "What did you do!" His fingers clawed at his scalp. "What did you do to me!"
A cry broke past the mother's lips and she stubbornly folded her hands in her lap as she looked away, pursing her lips again. "I did..." She halted when another wrenching scream burst from her son's throat. "I did the only thing I thought I could do."
The son lay flat on the floor. His breathing was labored and his chest rose and fell as if he were trapped. His eyes darted to each corner and his hands clenched at the soft rug. Carefully, the mother approached. She smoothed back his hair and whispered to him.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry. I only gave you what I thought you needed most."
Her son's lips trembled as they moved. "What... what was that?"
"Love."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-09-20 07:13 pm (UTC)Sorry Mandy and Aaron are giving you so much grief. She dropped by to tell me, Andy, and Sierra that he's an ass, too. And, ha, you're probably totally right about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (extra ha for that) but I honestly do not care anymore.
And I'm so totally nominating you. (Debating whether or not I'd like to be VP, myself. I agree with you about Gregory being Pres, though.)
(no subject)
Date: 2004-09-21 05:07 am (UTC)And it'd be so cool if I got Secretary and you got VP. Awesome. This close to taking over the wo... club. I meant club.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-09-21 04:13 pm (UTC)The club is the world.We're Pinky and the Brain, brain, brain...Thanks for explaining the end, and really, it's not that hard to understand. (And besides, rewrites are your friend!)
(no subject)
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