My fingers were sticky with sweet redness from the strawberry shortcake I'd been putting together. I mixed the cake from scratch and arranged the sliced strawberries into a fan shape. I drizzled the glaze so prettily on the plate and blobbed the sweet whipped cream right on top. I held the plate up and admired my work. My mom was going to love it.
Except...
She can't eat strawberries, you daft bitch! You know she has diverticulitis. The seeds will mess up her intestines. And for that matter, she already told you that sugar irritates the back of her throat!
And also, she's already DEAD! There's nothing you can do to make her feel better now. There's no demand for strawberry shortcake in the AFTERLIFE!
So I shattered it against the wall. The shards of ceramic tinkled against one another as they fell, but the roar of flames soon overpowered the delicate sounds. The house burned so quickly, I wasn't sure I'd be able to escape.
The boiling strawberry glaze blistered my arms. I struggled forward, searching for an escape route that just wasn't there. Doorknobs were like grenades, so I kicked the doors in with my powerful legs until something grabbed my ankles. It knocked me off my feet and pulled me backward, into the fire.
I was dragged over the ashy foundation. The scrapes of various objects against my skin left me bleeding and sobbing.
Whatever unseen thing that had me whipped my body around until I was propped against the kitchen wall. Odd. The walls seemed to be frozen. The roaring fire gone. Walls of clear, solid, cooling ice had replaced the hot, mad flames. A few pleasant moments of relief passed before the hideous monster, charred beyond recognition began to stuff shards of the broken ceramic plate along with bits of sweet cream and cake into my mouth.
Eat this you stupid whore.
I gagged and protested the assault. Who would do this? And why?
I tried to speak, but the creature never ceased. She went on filling me up, slicing my face and crushing my teeth with no remorse.
Only when I could finally look in to the bright blue eyes of this sick, crusty, ashen face did I realize that she was me.
.
.
.
Except...
She can't eat strawberries, you daft bitch! You know she has diverticulitis. The seeds will mess up her intestines. And for that matter, she already told you that sugar irritates the back of her throat!
And also, she's already DEAD! There's nothing you can do to make her feel better now. There's no demand for strawberry shortcake in the AFTERLIFE!
So I shattered it against the wall. The shards of ceramic tinkled against one another as they fell, but the roar of flames soon overpowered the delicate sounds. The house burned so quickly, I wasn't sure I'd be able to escape.
The boiling strawberry glaze blistered my arms. I struggled forward, searching for an escape route that just wasn't there. Doorknobs were like grenades, so I kicked the doors in with my powerful legs until something grabbed my ankles. It knocked me off my feet and pulled me backward, into the fire.
I was dragged over the ashy foundation. The scrapes of various objects against my skin left me bleeding and sobbing.
Whatever unseen thing that had me whipped my body around until I was propped against the kitchen wall. Odd. The walls seemed to be frozen. The roaring fire gone. Walls of clear, solid, cooling ice had replaced the hot, mad flames. A few pleasant moments of relief passed before the hideous monster, charred beyond recognition began to stuff shards of the broken ceramic plate along with bits of sweet cream and cake into my mouth.
Eat this you stupid whore.
I gagged and protested the assault. Who would do this? And why?
I tried to speak, but the creature never ceased. She went on filling me up, slicing my face and crushing my teeth with no remorse.
Only when I could finally look in to the bright blue eyes of this sick, crusty, ashen face did I realize that she was me.
.
.
.
Well, that was about disturbing. I've had those kind of dream of wanting to talk to/see/do something for someone whose walked on whilst every bit of logic reminds you that person is gone. Horrible.
ReplyDeleteOctober is the Month of My Mom (both coming into and going out of this world), so I suppose I will have more dreams about her soon.
ReplyDelete