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TITLE (EDIT)
The Love Of A Mother
DESCRIPTION
A story I wrote last year, but never got around to submitting.
[1,253 words]
AUTHOR
Kimball
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
-
[February 2007]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (5)
A Job Well Done (Short Stories) This is about a guy who has a unique way of getting people to reach nirvana. this is just telling how he manages to change one persons life forever. [2,488 words]
Ali­ve (Short Stories) Just a little story I wrote when I was bored one night [606 words]
Last Caress (Short Stories) A story about a guy and his lost love. I wrote this in about an hour. needs refinement. looking for constructive criticism. ill update it with the refined version soon. [1,119 words]
My Last Addiction (Short Stories) A story about a young guy and his life's addiction. [1,265 words]
Unrequited Love (Short Stories) A drunken rewrite of a previous story. [674 words]
The Love Of A Mother
Kimball

Mike sat quietly in his room and tried not to listen to his mother crying on the couch in the living room. Roger always was mean to his mother after he drank beer, which he did quite often since he had quit working. Mike had once tried to stop Roger from hitting his mom but Roger had thrown him against the wall and started to wail on him. Before his eyes had gone blurry with tears he noticed a look of relief come across his mothers face as Roger’s painful awareness was on someone else. She wasn’t protecting him. Mike had to miss a few days of school after that and even when he went back he still had a monstrous shiner under his left eye. And since that day he had never tried to help his mother again. There was just no use.
Alone Mike sat in his room; thinking about the times before Roger, back when his mother was always smiling. Back when she wasn’t afraid to leave the house in case someone might notice mosaic of black and purple that seemed to cover her body. She used to take him to the park every few days and most weekends she would take him to the beach to let him play in the ocean while she sat in the sun slowly becoming a golden brown. But most importantly, back before The Church.
When Roger had moved in he insisted that both Mike and his mother accompany him to The Church. The Church was a dingy barn surrounded by an ominous field of dead grass. The Church was run by an old man who everyone called The High Chief. The High Chief was always dressed in a black robe and constantly talked about The New Bible and The Day Of Glory. The whole time The High Chief talked Mike had to sit on a hard wooden bench and listen. He wasn’t allowed to talk, move or even go to the bathroom without having Roger hit him upside his head with a copy of The New Bible. One time Mike had forgotten to use the bathroom before leaving and had squirmed in his seat until the pressure in his bladder had become too much and he had wet himself. When Roger had noticed the warm patch of wetness on the front of his Oshkosh overalls he had made Mike march up to the front of The Church, where The High Chief proceeded to tell Mike how he was going to Hell to burn in a lake of fire. And as his eyes clouded up with tears once more, he saw his mom sitting still as a statue. Not protecting him.
Outside his room, his mom had quit crying. He slowly opened the door to his room, cringing as the hinges squeaked slightly and as the wood frame creaked. But he did not need to fear the slight sounds because Roger was passed out on the couch, a copy of The New Bible clutched tightly in his right hand. Mike walked quietly past Roger and into the master bedroom where he found his mother sitting on the edge of the bed, her cheeks still damp with freshly shed tears. He reached out and slowly wrapped his arms around her in a loving hug. At first she pulled away from him, but when she realized it was Mike she returned the hug. But it was cold and as weak as a dead fish. Mike left the room quickly, running to his room with tears in his eyes and a splinter in his heart. That night he prayed to God, for himself a bit, but mostly for his mother.
At a snail’s pace, the days went by as spring approached. Mike had been pulled out of the local elementary school and spent most of his day at The Church. Mike didn’t mind because it appeared the God had answered his prayer. Roger had not hit his mother in over a month and as the bruises faded her smile reappeared. So if God wanted him to go to The Church in return for his mother’s smile, then to church he would go. The Church was packed the night that The High Chief announced that the Day Of Glory was nearly upon them. Several minutes passed before the cheering had died down. After it had quieted down a little all the kids were sent outside to play, a first since Mike had been going to The Church. After Mike had been playing with the other kids for about half an hour, Roger came out with his mother, arm in arm and a smile on their faces. It was the happiest day of Mike’s life.
For the next week Roger and his mother were constantly busy, calling people, putting stuff away in boxes or doing one of several other seemingly meaningless chores. One day his mom even took him down to the beach, and as he looked at her as she lied out in the sun and as the cool sea mist sprayed over him, there wasn’t a happier moment he could think of. For that seven-day period Mike did not go to The Church and had almost forgotten about it altogether when on April 10, he found himself standing once again on the grass outside the old barn. But it no longer looked dreary like it had before. The barn had been given a new coat of paint and flowers had popped up all over the lawn, courtesy of spring showers. A long table had been set up in the middle of the grass with a large hand painted banner proclaiming “WE WELCOME YOU LORD!!!.” And on top of the table were about a hundred little paper cups filled with what looked like Kool-Aid or maybe Gatorade. He asked his mom if he could have a drink, but she only smiled and said later.
Mike was getting ready to wander off to play with some of the kids he had seen running around when The High Chief stepped on a small platform and began to talk. Mike couldn’t really understand what he was saying because it seemed that everyone was cheering. After The High Chief had stopped talking his mother grabbed his hand and led him up to the table and grabbed two cups filled with the brightly colored liquid and led him over to a small patch of grass under an elm tree.
As she sat down in the grass she asked him, “You know I love you right?”
Mike just smiled and gave her a big hug, which she returned. It was the best hug in the world.
“Where’s Roger?” Mike asked after noticing that he was no longer around.
“He’s still got important work to do,” his mother replied, with a tear building up in her eye ready to overflow any second. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and handed him one of the paper cups. “I got you blue ‘cause I knew it was your favorite.”
Mike smiled and gulped it down in one big mouthful. It was a little powdery in the end but was defiantly Kool-Aid. As he placed his cup on the ground his mom finished off her cup and discarded it over her shoulder. Then she held him. Even as he grew tired she held onto him. Soon his eyelids became too heavy to keep open, but before he fell into an eternal sleep he noticed that everyone else was sleeping too. His mother wasn’t protecting him.

 

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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2007 Kimball
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
February 2007
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1379
 

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