"Child, will you come here for a second?" The nurse calls from my mother's bedroom.
My mom stared in front of herself and kept saying "I see her! I know she's there! It's the good mother!"
She's been this way since I was a child. However, when my father left us, she became a shell. She says the good mother has left us and all we had were our own corpses.
That almost seems true, although, I know not to trust a word she says. She will not turn me into a shell. I will not allow her to do so.
The nurse just stands there, confused and unsure of how to handle the (all too usual) situation at hand.
I was left with the difficulties of being a motherless daughter. She's always too busy sulking and I'm all too busy caring for her.
I can't even go to school out of fear that my mother will kill herself. I almost prefer to let her but that would be neglectful, wouldn't it?
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories
Short StoryI love writing short stories because they get the general ideas out for people to interpret on their own. And when they interpret, they add on to the initial imaginative ideas. I hope even the simplest of my ideas can inspire my readers. I'm gratefu...