Naked moms kissing

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2020.10.21 04:44 squish_ee Comments from an unspoiled viewer: Week 2

(I'm still trying to figure out the best was to format these, so apologies if it's a bit hard to read. I'll come back and edit the post if it looks too wonky!)
Last week I posted "comments from an unspoiled viewer" and a couple people liked it, so I'm back again! As a refresher: my mom has never watched any show in the Bachelor franchise before, but given the "surprises" coming up this season, I thought it would be interesting to make her watch with me. She's completely unspoiled because she's not on social media, and also because she doesn't care about any of this at all, lol.
Here were some of my favorite comments she made about tonight's episode:

(On the first group date)
(After no one immediately grabs Clare during after her lil speech at the start of the cocktail party)
(On her 1-on-1 with Jason now)
(On the dodgeball group date)
(At the cocktail party)
Final thoughts: Neither of us were a fan of the strip dodgeball date. Mom said several times that she agrees with Yosef that it was "classless," though she thinks he's acting like an ass about it. Personally, I think having them strip in the first place was already too much, but I really didn't like that the losing team had to make a "walk of shame" back to the room. That... didn't feel okay.
ALSO? I was NOT aware that jock straps are 1) completely assless, and 2) worn instead of underwear, instead of oveunder them. I was absolutely shook by these men's BARE ASSES being just OUT THERE, black box or not. AND Y'ALL. SOME OF THEM JUST? TOOK THE JOCK STRAPS COMPLETELY OFF AND THEN THEY WERE NAKED? ACTUALLY NAKED? AND THEY WALKED BACK TO THE ROOM LIKE THAT? AND SAT DOWN ON THE COUCHES AND CHATTED WITH THE OUTHER GUYS WITH THEIR FULL PENISES OUT AND THEIR LITERAL ASSHOLES FLUSH AGAINST THE COUCH CUSHIONS? I know this post is supposed to be about my mom's comments, not mine, but someone please... I can't be the only one who's freaking out over this! Like, that was nuts (heh), right!? My brain is on fire, I'm dying.
Mom was also a bit put off by Clare sending Brandon home, and we ended up talking about it for like 20 minutes after the episode ended, even rewinding to rewatch the scene several times and analyze it carefully, lol. I think we came to a consensus that Brandon just like... IMMEDIATELY put his foot in his mouth, and really screwed himself by being like "The second I found out about you I just KNEW I had to be here!!!!!! Haha I mean no idk anything about you or your history... but ur hot tho."
Until next week!
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2020.10.20 14:38 Responsible_While_50 Naked moms kissing

Trigger warning: mention of possible sexual abuse, physical abuse. If you’re easily distressed/triggered by these things, I request you to not read any further.
So, a little something about my dad. He had been physically & verbally abusive to my mom for years. He physically abused me once. He no longer physically abuses us. I think that’s cuz he’s scared I’ll call someone (few years ago when he has hitting my mum, I had called my uncles & he stopped hitting her since then). But he never fails to verbally abuse us every now & then. He had also cheated on my mom once. Basically, he’s scum & I hate him with every fibre of my being.
I’m 22 & female btw, thought I should mention this. When I was younger he would ask me to sleep naked or scantily clad with him. My mum knew about it. So when i did this, I remember him hovering his hand near my vagina. Even at a young age, I knew that was wrong & removed his hand immediately & made some excuse to walk away from there. On another instance, he would take his hand under my shirt & run it on my bare back. He once cut up my pair of jeggings into shorts & told me to wear them. I was overweight then & not very confident about my body/legs so I told him I won’t wear it. He persisted alot because he wanted me to wear “modern clothes” which in his opinion are shorts. I said no over & over again & he slapped me on my cheek. & some other days, he’d ask me to kiss him on his lips & I didn’t like that at all so I would make an excuse saying I don’t want to because his mouth smells of cigarettes (he’s a smoker). In order to not anger him, I’d kiss him on his cheek but still he’d repeatedly insist me to kiss him on his lips saying they don’t smell. All these things happened when I was between the age of 8-13. PS, through consistent dieting & workout, I was able to lose a good number of kgs over the last few months (I used to be overweight as I mentioned before). He also commented on this saying how I have a “bony ass” now. Wtf
Was he predatory? Do you think it’s not a big deal or that he had malicious intentions?
Edit: One of the comments in my other post told me he might be a pedophile & guess what? He infact is. I remember using his laptop once & coming across pictures of naked children (taken from the internet). I was sickened to the core.
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2020.10.19 07:37 humansnaill Naked moms kissing

I've suffered abuse throughout my whole life from multiple individuals. I don't even know how or where to start to heal. So I'm going to briefly write about each experience to see if it helps. To help you understand better, I come from a very traditional Asian family. No signs of affection are allowed and girls are second class citizens. My blood cousin abused me as a child. He would wait for me to nap and then he'd sneak in when no one was around and bite me to wake me up. I remember waking up crying and he'd still be biting down on me down there. It was always in my private area. My parents didn't address it with his parents or even tell him to stop. They just told me I couldn't nap when my cousins were around anymore. We moved in with my dad's mentor. He is 10+ years older than my dad. When my dad went to work during the day, his mentor would take me to bed to "nap" with him. He'd abuse me and I forced myself to fall asleep during so I could escape it. I didn't tell anyone cause he told me it was normal. I didn't feel like it was wrong cause he was my dad's mentor. My older sister would tell me "bed time stories" but they were all about incest and very sexual. She made me come listen to them late at night. She had me go in her closet and play house with me. She'd get on top of me, naked, and dry hump and kiss me. She'd always be very sexual at night, but during the daytime, she was completely opposite. Always belittled me and ignored me. This carried on into my preteen years. She'd masturbate, legs wide open in front of me in the bedroom. I feel shame for watching. It wasn't even out of pleasure, I just watched out of curiosity to see what she'd do next. We started going to my dad's mentor church. His mentor was a pastor there. He'd always come to hug me and his hands always "slipped" and he'd grab me in public. I wasn't even a developed girl, I was flat and bony, and no one said it was wrong cause he did it to all the girls there too. So I didn't think it was wrong. I was 14. My mom's sister moved closer to us. I finally met my other blood cousins. My aunt tried to hook me and her oldest son up because she really liked me. I was flattered by her but I didn't like him. He was 17 almost 18 and he was still in the 10th grade. I was a dumb kid. My mom told me to date him. So when he asked me out, I said yes, even though I didn't like him. He'd wait for our siblings to go play outside and then he would start to hump me and he would bite my boobs. I was still flat chested so he said he was biting them to make them grow into watermelons. I didn't know what to do. So I wrote it in my diary. My older sister read it to my mom. My mom slapped me and called me "damaged goods" for letting a man touch me before marriage. She called me an animal and that I'm no longer her daughter. I told her that she told me to date him. She replied "it was a test, you should've said no to him." I was 16, It was puppy love. I thought we were going on a date, the car wrecked, we went to the hospital. My parents said this was God punishing me for disobeying them and dating outside my race. So they didn't come for me. I ended up going back to his place. The next morning, he raped me. My parents had a police officer come get me from his house cause I was considered a "runaway". They refused to look at me when they came to get me. Told me that they were sending me away to live with my older sister and her husband because I was too out of control. I went to go live with my older sister, she and her husband made jokes out of sex that were disgusting and not funny that I finally told her that I was raped. I was crying and they were both just sitting there. My sister's husband waited for her to go to work. He'd try and come on to me. Told me I was the less lazy, young version of my sister. That I was a better fit for him than she was. He told me he was gonna take me to his secret fishing spot. I was scared so I told her he was scaring me. It's almost like she knew already without me telling her the details. They almost got a divorce, got his family involved. They told me not to tell my parents or anyone because I needed to protect my sister and her husband reputation. I told myself "that's true, I'm glad it happened to me so I could protect my family this way." Later, he tried again. Started to break into my room while I was asleep. Would leave the door open just to get in my head. Became a peeping tom. My sister resented me, she got pregnant, I was afraid to tell her. So I told his sister. They confronted him and he went and told my sister I was lying to try and break up their marriage. She lost the baby and everyone ended up hating me. So I was sent back to live with my parents. My parents had no idea what was going on. I was 19, I finally told my mom that I had been touched as a kid by my dad's mentor. She didn't even comfort me. All she told me was, I couldn't tell my dad cause it would cause him to stumble in his faith and since my dad is a pastor, she couldn't allow that to happen. I was 22, my parents set me up to marry a 19 year old guy. They said I would do good with him since he has a rich family. I was married to him for two weeks and he started abusing me. He beat me if he was failing in class. He beat me if I went to shower without telling him. He beat me if I went to sleep without him. I was 24. I had divorced my ex husband a year ago and was starting to date again. My boyfriend was very kind. But he wanted to have sex all the time. He eventually started to rape me. I'd wake up to him inside of me. Or he'd force himself on me and he'd only stop if I started to cry. We broke up and got back together multiple times. He hasn't raped me in years. Doesn't touch me unless I want him to. We are engaged now.
I don't know what to do with my life. No one in my life knows what's happened to me in it's entirety. I wish I could just forget this stuff ever happened to me. I can't ever finish anything I start. I had a business before this pandemic hit and it was going down the drain. I'm grateful for quarantine cause it's helped me to stay home and not have to please anyone anymore. But I don't know what to do with all of this garbage in my life. This was a very long read, so thank you for getting this far. I hate my life. But I love my dog and my baby sister. They are the only ones in my life I truly love and want to protect.
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2020.10.19 07:22 humansnaill Naked moms kissing

I've suffered abuse throughout my whole life from multiple individuals. I don't even know how or where to start to heal. So I'm going to briefly write about each experience to see if it helps. To help you understand better, I come from a very traditional Asian family. No signs of affection are allowed and girls are second class citizens. My blood cousin abused me as a child. He would wait for me to nap and then he'd sneak in when no one was around and bite me to wake me up. I remember waking up crying and he'd still be biting down on me down there. It was always in my private area. My parents didn't address it with his parents or even tell him to stop. They just told me I couldn't nap when my cousins were around anymore. We moved in with my dad's mentor. He is 10+ years older than my dad. When my dad went to work during the day, his mentor would take me to bed to "nap" with him. He'd abuse me and I forced myself to fall asleep during so I could escape it. I didn't tell anyone cause he told me it was normal. I didn't feel like it was wrong cause he was my dad's mentor. My older sister would tell me "bed time stories" but they were all about incest and very sexual. She made me come listen to them late at night. She had me go in her closet and play house with me. She'd get on top of me, naked, and dry hump and kiss me. She'd always be very sexual at night, but during the daytime, she was completely opposite. Always belittled me and ignored me. This carried on into my preteen years. She'd masturbate, legs wide open in front of me in the bedroom. I feel shame for watching. It wasn't even out of pleasure, I just watched out of curiosity to see what she'd do next. We started going to my dad's mentor church. His mentor was a pastor there. He'd always come to hug me and his hands always "slipped" and he'd grab me in public. I wasn't even a developed girl, I was flat and bony, and no one said it was wrong cause he did it to all the girls there too. So I didn't think it was wrong. I was 14. My mom's sister moved closer to us. I finally met my other blood cousins. My aunt tried to hook me and her oldest son up because she really liked me. I was flattered by her but I didn't like him. He was 17 almost 18 and he was still in the 10th grade. I was a dumb kid. My mom told me to date him. So when he asked me out, I said yes, even though I didn't like him. He'd wait for our siblings to go play outside and then he would start to hump me and he would bite my boobs. I was still flat chested so he said he was biting them to make them grow into watermelons. I didn't know what to do. So I wrote it in my diary. My older sister read it to my mom. My mom slapped me and called me "damaged goods" for letting a man touch me before marriage. She called me an animal and that I'm no longer her daughter. I told her that she told me to date him. She replied "it was a test, you should've said no to him." I was 16, It was puppy love. I thought we were going on a date, the car wrecked, we went to the hospital. My parents said this was God punishing me for disobeying them and dating outside my race. So they didn't come for me. I ended up going back to his place. The next morning, he raped me. My parents had a police officer come get me from his house cause I was considered a "runaway". They refused to look at me when they came to get me. Told me that they were sending me away to live with my older sister and her husband because I was too out of control. I went to go live with my older sister, she and her husband made jokes out of sex that were disgusting and not funny that I finally told her that I was raped. I was crying and they were both just sitting there. My sister's husband waited for her to go to work. He'd try and come on to me. Told me I was the less lazy, young version of my sister. That I was a better fit for him than she was. He told me he was gonna take me to his secret fishing spot. I was scared so I told her he was scaring me. It's almost like she knew already without me telling her the details. They almost got a divorce, got his family involved. They told me not to tell my parents or anyone because I needed to protect my sister and her husband reputation. I told myself "that's true, I'm glad it happened to me so I could protect my family this way." Later, he tried again. Started to break into my room while I was asleep. Would leave the door open just to get in my head. Became a peeping tom. My sister resented me, she got pregnant, I was afraid to tell her. So I told his sister. They confronted him and he went and told my sister I was lying to try and break up their marriage. She lost the baby and everyone ended up hating me. So I was sent back to live with my parents. My parents had no idea what was going on. I was 19, I finally told my mom that I had been touched as a kid by my dad's mentor. She didn't even comfort me. All she told me was, I couldn't tell my dad cause it would cause him to stumble in his faith and since my dad is a pastor, she couldn't allow that to happen. I was 22, my parents set me up to marry a 19 year old guy. They said I would do good with him since he has a rich family. I was married to him for two weeks and he started abusing me. He beat me if he was failing in class. He beat me if I went to shower without telling him. He beat me if I went to sleep without him. I was 24. I had divorced my ex husband a year ago and was starting to date again. My boyfriend was very kind. But he wanted to have sex all the time. He eventually started to rape me. I'd wake up to him inside of me. Or he'd force himself on me and he'd only stop if I started to cry. We broke up and got back together multiple times. He hasn't raped me in years. Doesn't touch me unless I want him to. We are engaged now.
I don't know what to do with my life. No one in my life knows what's happened to me in it's entirety. I wish I could just forget this stuff ever happened to me. I can't ever finish anything I start. I had a business before this pandemic hit and it was going down the drain. I'm grateful for quarantine cause it's helped me to stay home and not have to please anyone anymore. But I don't know what to do with all of this garbage in my life. This was a very long read, so thank you for getting this far. I hate my life. But I love my dog and my baby sister. They are the only ones in my life I truly love and want to protect.
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2020.10.19 04:06 Bean0mean I’m i alone it doesn’t feel real.

doesn’t feel real I’m so alone I don’t wanna be triggering but I’m honestly so alone when it comes to what happened yet I barely get to talk about it and I’m in a relationship and shit happened to him around the same time shit happened to me I feel so in love with him but he doesn’t ever wanna talk about anything with me but I just wanna get over it. My friends don’t understand despite my current best friend being there and my boyfriend is emotionally unavailable.
It was me “the thing” and my friends first sleep over of the month maybe even year all together. Me and thing had already been doing shit... I would come over and she showed me porn for the first time honestly I can’t remember if it was the same night or not but it was like teacher and a student ducking and a like I said these days blended together but I remember watching Minecraft and she started masturbating I got up not wanting to be in the same bed as her while she did that and went to go play dolls. She asked me to put my finger in her thing and I said no. I remember this exactly but she said well “jada did it and I haven’t even been friends with her long” I looked away and played with her expensive Barbie house and doll. She said well at least give me something to use so I gave her a Barbie. The rest of that night was a blur but I remember her laying in the bed with her legs wide open so vividly. Again I went over we were best friends, my little sister came over this time my sister is two years you her then me I don’t remember when this was anymore. We watched porn again and then she let her dog come in and lick her. She told us to try it and I felt so grossed out but my little sister did it I felt so guilty and I wanted to scream and say stop but I thought I trusted her and she said you can just do it through the undies so I did, I think it happened a few more times but honestly I can’t really remember.... This night is where everything changed we went to my friends trailer to have “the best sleepover ever” we messed around I had so much fun but thing got bored and said we should watch porn, we layed on friends twin bed vertical watching porn once again she got bored.... we played truth or dare I picked truth again and again. She changed it to dirty truth or dare I picked truth so it became dare or dare... we all got dared lots of sexual things my friend was smart and said she started her period... so all the dates went to me we kissed licked eachother but it went downhill when someone was dared to finger someone. Of course it was me... I cried and begged I didn’t wanna do it... I don’t ever remember getting naked but when I think back I’m naked and so scared. But after crying I just stood still because she wasn’t gonna give up. She walked up to me and slipped her hand into my pants and was leaning really close to me I don’t ever remeber looking at her but I can still see our bodies being so close together... but I do see the popcorn ceiling and the red fairy lights reflecting off each bump... I also remember joking hoping to make myself feel better I was coping I didn’t know what else to do? I can’t remeber the rest of the night but in the morning in the car I remeber thinking was last night normal? I honestly didn’t think about it for a year until news got out about her and the dog from someone else. I wanna hate u thing I do but I can’t. But It ruined my perception of every female in my life. I have nightmares and if my mom hugs me little too weird I get triggered and tell her to get off me and go to my room and cry have nightmares of my grandma and mom raping me and my little sister. You’ve ruined women for me.
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2020.10.18 23:18 Jrubas Naked moms kissing

What is evil?
Selfishness. Every evil act - every rape, hit, murder, genocide - springs from selfishness, from someone thinking only of themselves or of their tribe, someone giving into their perverted desires, someone wanting to make money or save themselves from embarrassment, woe, or death. Jesus Christ, the paragon of Good, was selfless and instructed His followers to be selfless as well. He died on a cross for other people’s sins. What’s more selfless than that?
Whether you believe in Him or not, the Gospel makes clear that He considered selflessness the ultimate good. Therefore, selfishness is the ultimate bad. When we all love and care for each other, the world is good. When we care only for ourselves, it is bad.
Evil exists.
I know because my grandparents are evil.
You wouldn’t know it by looking at them. They’re liberal, they recycle, they care about the planet and they believe in science. My father is a Republican and I grew up looking at Democrats as the bad guys, but even deep down, I admired my grandparents and thought, in my own half-formed way, that we should all strive to be like them.
They both grew up in the sixties and met at Woodstock. Grandma came from a middle class family that she rebelled against and Grandpa came from the wrong side of the tracks, a fact of which he was perversely proud. “I’m a real common man,” he would say with a grin. By the time I was fifteen in 2015, they were retired and living in a retirement community near Daytona Beach. In the summer of 2016, they invited me down to spend a few weeks with them.
I barely got to see them after they moved in 2010 and I jumped at the chance, especially since my father and I didn’t get along. Typical teenage rebellion stuff that looks stupid in hindsight. I took a plane to Daytona in early June and they met me at the airport. “Hey, there you are,” Grandpa said and pulled me into a hug. There was something different about them, something that bothered me for my first two days there, something that I just couldn’t place. There was a..a...a glow about them, and the twinkle in my grandfather’s eye was one of a much younger man. Maybe even someone my age - a randy and mischievous boy who hadn’t been worn down by fifty years of work, kids, and mortgage payments. With Grandma, the change was physical. She seemed...I don’t know...more lively, like a young girl in the bloom of youth. I figured I kind of aged them up in my mind and thought of them as older and slower than they really were. They weren’t that old, after all, and had never been in anything approaching poor health.
Their community - called Lamplighter - was a fifty-five and over trailer park in Port Orange near the South Daytona line. The trailers were all modern doublewides, well-maintained, and the yards were green and spacious. There was a club house at the front of the park featuring a room for events, a little gym, and a library. Next to it was a pool. The residents were all friendly and nice. My first day there, Grandma and Grandpa took me to a social event at the clubhouse and I was the star of the show; old men patted my back, old ladies pinched my cheek, it was kind of annoying but also nice. Girls might get compliments all the time, but guys really don’t, and it felt good to be the center of attention for a little bit.
The only downside was the handyman, Ed. Close to fifty, he was slow and crept around the edge of the room like an attack dog, his eyes always on me, like a painting that follows you around no matter where you go. “He’s very protective of us,” Grandpa explained, “he’s sort of our bodyguard.” He laughed like that was the funniest thing ever. “Don’t worry about him.”
Grandma and Grandpa’s next door neighbor was a guy named Jim Anderson. He wore polo shirts, plaid shorts, black socks pulled up his hairy calves, and putzed around his yard all day long doing next to nothing. His granddaughter lived with him. Her name was Lindsey. I met her at the clubhouse one day when I was getting Grandma and Grandpa’s mail. I slammed the little door and turned, and there she was, on the same mission. She was a few inches shorter than me and thicc, for a lack of a better term - I can’t bring myself to call her pudgy even if, maybe, she was. Her long brown hair shimmered in the tropical sun and she had this little gap in her front teeth that I instantly thought of as cute. Not in a demeaning way, just…
I was attracted to her. I thought she was beautiful and the moment I saw her, my heart launched into my throat. She felt me staring and turned to look at me, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Uh...hey,” I said.
“Hey,” she replied cautiously.
“Kind of shocking to see someone around here who isn’t seventy.”
“I live with my grandpa.”
“Oh I’m visiting mine.” I shoved my hands nervously into the pockets of my hoodie and tried not to look like a dweeb. “I’m Kyle.”
“Lindsey,” she said and shut the mailbox.
We walked back together and made small talk. I was awkward and she was uncomfortable. Looking back at it now, I cringe, but I also smile.
Lindsey told me that her parents were killed in a car crash three years ago. She was a self-professed book worm and “old fashioned.” She liked the same music my grandparents did and had a real hard-on for the seventies and eighties. “I just love everything about them,” she gushed. Her face shone like a lamp, and, if possible, she was even more beautiful than she was before. “The clothes, the music, just...everything. It was so much better back then. I wish I had a time machine.”
Because she didn’t “connect” with our generation, Lindsey didn’t have many friends. “I’ve always gotten along better with older people.”
“So you’re one of them,” I said cheekily and nodded to an old woman in her yard.
Lindsey laughed. “I guess.”
She said that there were five teenagers in the community, all living with an older relative. They hung out at the clubhouse sometimes, sharing each other’s company because they were all they had in a place like this. She invited me to hang out with them, and two days later, we met at the pool. There was Lindsey, a black boy named Nathan, a white boy named Evan, a white girl named Cassidy, and an Asian boy named Tran who went by T. “I like to keep it fresh,” he told me with a big grin.
“Fresh as a dirty diaper,” Nathan said and rolled his eyes.
“You got me fucked up,” T said.
“Man, shut up,” Nathan said, “you sound so dumb. I thought y’all were supposed to be educated.”
“School of Pimpanomics Class of 2016,” T replied.
Evan snorted. “You wish.”
We hung out most of the day and when it was over, I decided that I liked them.
It didn’t last very long.
Three days later, T dropped out of sight. I went to his house and his grandparents said he moved in with an uncle in Iowa. There was something in their eyes that told me they weren’t being entirely honest.
I accepted their story anyway. I wish I hadn’t.
Me, Lindsey, and the others would walk around the trailer park together, just talking and goofing off, and after a while, I realized that every time we did, Ed would pass in his old truck and glare at us, then follow us on foot, pretending to do other things but glowering at us like he expected us to do something wrong. I kind of got that even then - some teens do dumb shit - but the murder in his eyes creeped me out.
Did he do something to T?
In early July, Evan disappeared. Same thing. His grandparents said he moved away. Their eyes were red as though they’d been crying, and his grandmother’s voice trembled as she told me he was gone.
It felt like she was telling me he died.
The rest of us talked about it. Nathan agreed with me that something was wrong. Cassidy thought we were stupid. Lindsey just looked uncomfortable. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said. “Kids come and go here. You know that.”
“Yeah,” Nathan said, “a little too much.”
“Because they visit.”
“Not all of them,” Nathan pointed out. “How many kids have we known who moved away?”
Lindsey fell silent.
“He’s wrong,” she told me later. We were walking aimlessly along one of the twisting streets after dark, the humid light of the moon playing in her hair. “There’s nothing strange about it at all. He’s just paranoid.”
I didn’t notice the hint of desperation in her voice, I didn’t realize she was begging me to believe her.
If I had, I may have known she was lying to me.
“Maybe,” I said, “I don’t know.”
She stopped and looked at me, her eyes dark and mysterious. “Really. Don’t get caught up in some conspiracy stuff.”
We gazed into each other’s eyes, and slowly, like the moon pulling the tide, our lips met. She kissed me, her tongue light and timid, and I kissed her back, mine clumsy and overeager. She grabbed the front of my hoodie and pulled me closer, and I cupped her face in my hands. The kiss deepened and became more urgent, Her heart pounded against mine and I remember thinking She’s really into it. I was too dumb to realize that she was a lost soul, a stranger in a strange land who had always been alintated from other kids by her obsession with times gone by. I didn’t realize that deep down, she was sad and alone and on the outside looking in...that she was desperate for someone, a boy her own age, to understand her.
I just thought she liked me.
She pulled away from me and flashed a dreamy smile. “That was nice,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, the taste of her mouth like candy on my lips, “it was.”
I put my arm around her and we walked home.
The next day, I went over to Nathan’s house.
His grandfather, a stooped man in a baseball cap boasting the name of the company her served with in Vietnam, appeared at the door. “Is Nathan here?” I asked.
Even if I live to be a thousand, I’ll never forget the look of hatred that crossed his wizened face. His bushy eyebrows angled down in a deadly V and her puckered lips drew into a wild sneer. The venom in his expression struck me like a fist to the stomach and I stumbled back against the railing. “He’s not here,” he spat, “he went to visit his aunt.” His eyes hardened as he spoke and his lips puckered even more, as though the words were sour in his mouth.
“Oh...okay.”
He slammed the door, and even though it was almost ninety degrees, a shiver raced down my spine. I turned and froze.
Across the street, Ed stood next to a bush in someone’s front yard, a pair of sheers at his side.
He was staring at me.
His expression was much like Nathan’s grandfather’s.
An old woman came out of her trailer and walked over to him. He turned to her, and the hate was gone, replaced by the look of a small puppy overjoyed to see its master. I took the opportunity to escape and made my way to the clubhouse. I found Lindsey and Cassidy sitting in the library. Lindsey smiled when she saw me, but it faded away at my pale-faced expression. I sat down across from them and stole a look around, crazily convinced that Ed would be there, like a killer from a bad horror movie who can be anywhere he wants, anytime he wants to be there.
“Nathan’s gone,” I said.
I told them what happened, and the color drained from Cassidy’s face.
“Come on, guys,” Lindsey said, “it’s nothing. He only went to visit his aunt. He’s coming back.”
“Seems kind of strange that it just happened like this,” I said. “He didn’t even mention it.”
“That’s Nathan for you,” she said.
I was stupid and in love...so I listened to her. I trusted Lindsey over my own gut instinct and I accepted a lie, once again.
After Nathan disappeared, I didn’t see much of Cassidy. I spent most of my time with Lindsey. We would sit in the padded swing on her front porch talking and holding hands. When her grandfather wasn’t around, we touched and kissed. When he was around, she would show me music videos from the seventies and eighties on her phone. I didn’t really like any of it, but her face always lit up when the music started to play, and she would stare at the screen with a sly little smile. Mesmerized. That’s how she looked. With each video, she lost herself in a time that she never knew, a time that she fetishized and revered only the way someone who wasn’t really there can. For her, the eighties were a warm, fuzzy dream. Nothing bad happened there. It was perfect. It was paradise.
On July 25 - I can still remember every detail - Lindsey’s grandfather was away. She led me into her bedroom and we kissed on her bed until we were heady and drunk on one another. Our hands roamed and our bodies quaked with need.
She was never more beautiful than she was with her hair pooled around her head like a halo, and no woman has ever felt as right as Lindsey did. Someone, somewhere, said that your first time is always awful, but mine wasn’t.
At the end of July, Grandma and Grandpa started acting strangely. Grandpa wouldn’t look me in the face and when Grandma did, I saw mourning in her eyes. The atmosphere, light and summery since June, turned dark and tense. Grandpa didn’t joke and twinkle and all of Grandma’s liveliness seemed to have drained away overnight. It was almost like someone died. I asked them what was wrong but they said everything was fine.
Bullshit.
It was probably a cancer diagnosis or something. One of them was sick and the doctors didn’t think they’d make it. Dread gnawed at me and I laid awake at night in worry.
I’m not exactly the best at sharing my emotions, I keep things to myself, but Lindsey managed to drag it out of me one day. We were sitting on her grandfather’s padded porch swing, our fingers entwined and Lindsey’s head resting on my shoulder. She always squeezed so tight...like she was afraid someone would take me away from her. “It’s probably nothing,” I said haltingly, “I just...I’m kind of scared.”
When she didn’t reply, I turned to look at her. Unshed tears shimmered in her eyes. A single bead streaked down her freckled cheek like a fleck of diamond, and my heart dropped. “What?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing. I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“How much I don’t want you to leave.”
Is it possible for something to sound like a lie and the truth at the same time? Can someone mean what they say, but mean something else?
I pulled my hand out of hers and put my arm around her shoulder. She melted into me, and we just sat there, the only sound the hiss of the wind in the trees and the metallic tinkle of windchimes. I wanted to promise I wouldn’t leave her, that we could stay together, but I couldn’t, so I said nothing.
Friday night, August 2, I was sitting in my room and scrolling through Discord when Grandpa came in without knocking. Grandpa always knocked.
I looked up, and his face was pale and drawn. He looked far, far older than I’d ever seen him.
In an instant, I knew something was wrong. “Lindsey’s here.”
That’s not what I expected to hear at all. Your Grandmother’s dead, maybe, or I have terminal AIDS. Why did he look so upset that Lindsey was here?
I put my computer aside, pulled on my hoodie, and went outside. Lindsey stood at the bottom of the stairs, and when she saw me, the corners of her mouth turned up in a pallid smile. “Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” she replied gloomy.
“What’s up?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I just wanted to see if...you wanted to go for a walk.”
Hand-in-hand, we made our way toward the clubhouse. I told her about my grandfather and she listened silently. Her grip on my hand tightened the closer we got - then, I thought she did it to comfort me, but now I think it was out of desperation. The clubhouse appeared in the distance, every window blazing with light. Something was happening. A 90th birthday party or a 50th anniversary, maybe.
Lindsey stopped me. I turned to face her, and, pushing up on her tippy toes, she held my face in her hands and kissed me. Were those tears in her eyes again?
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too,” I replied.
Did I mean it? I don’t know. I was fifteen. Did she mean it? In her own way, I think she did.
Holding my hand again, she led me purposely toward the clubhouse, her grip forcing my knuckles together.
We were at the back door by the mailboxes when she let go. Her hand fluttered to her face and she began to cry.
I opened my mouth, but someone hit me from behind and I blacked out.
I came awake gradually, like a diver rising from the depths. My head throbbed in sickly rhythm with my heart and my stomach churned so badly I almost puked. I pushed myself to a sitting position and a wave of nausea crashed over me. I moaned and almost went down again.
When I recovered, I looked around, my heartbeat speeding up. I was in a cage in the storeroom, murky light emanating from an overhead bulb. I was naked save for my boxers and there was a dog collar around my neck.
A door opened, and Lindsey came in, her eyes pointed ashamedly at her feet. She wore a long brown robe with the hood pushed back. Her face was white and her steps somber. “What’s going on?” I asked, panic gripping me. “What’s happening?”
Still not looking at me, Lindsey knelt before the cage. “I tried to stop them.”
“Who?” I asked.
“The Masters.”
My head spun. Masters? Who were the masters?
“I really tried,” she said, her voice breaking. “But you were chosen.”
“For what?” I asked.
Finally, she looked up at me, great sadness in her eyes. “As a sacrifice.”
Before I could reply, Ed came in, a lesh in one hand and a cattle prod in the other. Lindsey produced a key from the folds of her robe and unlocked the cage. Ed dragged me out, attached the lesh to the collar, and shoved me toward the door, making me stumble.
They led me into the main room, where all the events were held, and what I saw froze my blood. All of the residents - old men, old ladies, people I had spent the summer getting to know - were crowded in the middle of the floor, each one wearing a robe like Lindsey’s. Jerking left and right, I saw Nathan’s grandparents, Evan’s, mine. Grandma looked away, tears streaming down her face, and Grandpa gazed into the ether, regret stamped onto his face. At the head of the room was a metal X-shaped thing on a raised platform. Mr. Anderson stood next to it and watched me with disdain as Ed and Lindsey strapped me into it, binding my wrists and ankles. Lindsey stroked my cheek, favored me with a longing look, then joined the crowd.
Mr. Anderson’s voice filled the room, rich and booming. “We are gathered here tonight as the Last Generation, the Greatest Generation, the Generation That Shall Not Pass.”
“Forever,” everyone intoned.
“Winter approaches each of us, but we will not give it quarter. We will not allow ourselves to fade away. We have built the altar and the works upon it and we will not hand them down.”
I struggled against my bonds, sputtering broken words and half-coherent prayers. I flexed and rolled my wrists.
The right one...the one that Lindsey secured...was loose.
“...we will not lay down and let a new generation, an inferior generation, take our place. This is our world and we will cede it to no one.”
He withdrew a wickedly sharp knife from beneath his robe, and terror burst inside of me. “We will consume the blood of this boy and it will sustain us. On their blood, we will live. On their bones, we will build. With their lives, we will dwell in power forever.”
“Forever.”
I yanked, tugged, and arched my back. The strap was looser. If I pulled just a little more, I could get my hand free.
Mr. Anderson took a step toward me, but a long, high scream stopped him. Everyone turned to look at Nathan’s grandmother. Her chest rose and fell and her eyes bulged from their sockets in madness. “This isn’t right!” she screamed. “We can’t do this!”
Her husband tried to calm her, but she pulled away. “It’s wrong! You killed my grandbaby and it’s wrong!” She broke down in tears.
Mr. Anderson looked at Ed and Ed walked over. Nathan’s grandfather glared. “You stay away from her. Can’t you see she’s mourning?”
“There is no mourning,” Mr. Anderson said.
Ed grabbed Nathan’s grandfather. With surprising speed, Nathan’s grandfather punched him in the face. A shocked murmur ran through the room, and Mr. Anderson went to go help his minion. Ed, having recovered, lunged for Nathan’s grandfather and pinned him to the wall.
Nathan’s grandmother screamed and attacked Ed with a flurry of slaps. Ed shoved her away, and someone held her back. I flexed and rolled my wrists harder, harder, harder. Finally, my hand slipped out, and working on pure adrenaline, I unstrapped my other hand and my feet.
“He’s getting away!” someone cried.
I jumped from the platform and bolted for the nearest door, my bare feet slapping against the tiles and my heartbeat echoing through my head. They chased me, but I didn’t look back, couldn’t look back.
Slamming through the door, I ran down the street toward the main road where traffic streaked by in both directions.
I don’t remember almost being hit by a car, don’t remember how I wound up in the back of a police cruiser sobbing hysterically. I wished I didn’t remember any of it.
The police didn’t believe my story. Grandma and Grandpa cooked up a story about a fight and said I ran away. Dad bought it because he thought I was an asshole, and Mom bought it because who wants to believe that their parents are killers?
I haven’t spoken to anyone about this since it happened. Not Mom, not Dad, and not my grandparents. They send me cards for my birthday and Christmas but I never read them. Last month, I got one for Easter, and I don’t know why, but I looked inside.
We’re sorry, Grandma had written, but we’re afraid to let go.
I believe them. They’re terrified of letting go and passing away.
They’re terrified of growing old and dying.
They’re terrified of us.
submitted by Jrubas to nosleep [link] [comments]


2020.10.18 17:49 cleanyourbedroomboy Naked moms kissing

“Once upon a time, in a cold, dark land, there was a king who lived on tall mountains of ice. A king without a castle, who sat on a throne of blood and skin; from the top of his mountain, he watched over his kingdom of skeletons; roaring loudly for his subject skeletons on the arrival of winter, cautioning them of the impending icy winds.”
“The skeleton kingdom was home to all kinds of skeletons. Tall skeletons, short skeletons, fat skeletons and thin skeletons, old skeletons and younger, fresher skeletons.”
“When they were old enough, a skeleton started to grow skin, or had blood flowing through its body. Every time that happened, they would go to the king, and bow in front of him”
““My lord of flesh and blood” A skeleton would say, “Here I give to you a humble offering, so you may make it one with your throne.” And with that, the skeleton would offer the king all the flesh and blood it had, and the king would find a place of it on his throne.”
“Every day, offers were made, and the throne grew bigger and bigger, taller and taller, fatter and fatter, and the king went up higher and higher.”
“More and more skeletons would come in every day and every night, and they would keep giving more and more flesh and blood to the king’s chair.”
“The king’s throne eventually grew so tall; his voice became faint, and soft to the ones who stood below. But the skeletons did not stop; like obedient subjects, they making their humble contributions to the throne.”
“Every day they added.”
“And every night they added.”
““My lord I come to offer you more of my own flesh and blood, and I hope my humble gives more strength to your throne.”, and in reply, they heard just a distant mumble from high up.”
“The throne eventually went so up high, the throne became a living tower, covered in flesh, with veins of blood flowing through it. If you were still enough, a faint heartbeat could be heard from within the tower.”
“The tower went so high up, the skeletons believed that it might have pierced through the skies.”
“One day, a skeleton bowed in front of the tower. Fresh blood dripping from his bony white hands, and a handful of extracted flesh tied neatly with ropes on his back. After his words of offering, he stood up, waiting for the king’s reply. And he waited, and waited. Not a sound. He said his words a second time. He was yet again, met with silence.”
“And then he looked up, to the vast throne he and his fellow skeletons had built, and on top of it…he froze. He could not locate the top.”
“He felt like a sailor on a boat, trapped in the still, windless of the ocean of time. A few moments felt like ages in this uncertain stillness he found himself in. And then, like a gentle breeze of hopeful wind, his skull was kissed by the dropping snow.”
“He waited for the king’s roar, knowing full well that it may never come. The king was lost in the skies.”
“The skeletons rejoiced that day. They had finally gotten themselves rid of the fleshed king that ruled over this land of bones. They had found freedom,”
“The skeletons sang all day. And they sang all night. They danced till their bones came apart, and fell on the icy terrain below; but they put it back together and danced some more.”
“They sang wildly while the moon watched silently. They continued their songs even when the moon had hidden under the blankets of a sunless winter day.”
“And as time went on, the skeletons had found themselves used to this life without a leader, and lived life free and happy.”
“Eventually, their skins began to grow back, and blood began to flow into their veins.”
“The snowfall never stopped. And the winds grew ever colder. And with the growth of their skins, the cold finally touched them. But the cold was not so gentle. It was a fierce, with icy teeth, aimed on their skins. Wanting to bite through their skins, and freeze their blood. And bite it did.”
“The skeletons had never felt the cold before. They had no understanding of it. But with the growth of their skins, they felt the harsh cold for the first time. And with this new agony, they had to live.”
“The old ones died first. And then the youngest ones found themselves frozen in the cold.”
“The skeletons fought against each other, accusing each other of being at fault for this unescapable cold of the harsh winter. And with that, eventually the skeleton kingdom found itself buried in the snow.”
“The few that lived now, found themselves slaves to the ice. By this time, they could not find a way to rid themselves of their skins either. The flesh had found roots in their bones now, and were an eternal part of them.”
“Every summer they lived in peace, but that was only before. Now, with summers, they found themselves preparing themselves for the winter, and with the winters, they prayed for the summer’s return.”
“They had tried to get their king back, readying themselves for heavy and heartfelt words of apologies, and for the punishment that might follow. Yet, the living tower had been darkened and withered by the icy winds of winter, and they king lay trapped on this tower of rot.”
“And so, with heavy hearts, the skeletons finally accepted their fate of agony and hardship, and are now subjects of the winter.”
My mother stood up straight, looking down on me as she smiled warmly, thinking I had fallen into a deep slumber, as she cautiously paced in a gentle manner to the door, and gently shut it, leaving only a tiny sliver of light seeping into my room.
Sleep hadn’t taken me yet, and I opened my eyes, to the dark room. The tiny amount of light that the door allowed in formed a line on the font wall of the room, vertically reaching from the top of the window to the floor.
I had made sure the windows had been kept covered by the blinders as tight as possible, so that I couldn’t accidentally find myself looking out of it. Or anything accidentally looking in.
I shivered at the thought.
When I was seven years old, my mother had been in the hospital, giving birth to my sister, and I had been staying with my aunt Greta at the time. I had been watching T.V. late at night; Aunt Greta didn’t care much about me going to sleep at the time my parents had set for me. But she herself, exhausted, and possibly maybe even slightly drunk, had found rest on the couch, sitting next to me, while the television flickered with various colours, illuminating her skin, edging towards the moment a light bright enough would jerk her out of her sleep. Aunt Greta won that battle, and managed to keep her sleep. But not me, I was on the loosing side, and sleep had finally begun to tug at me.
I tried distracting myself my shaking my head, and then looking around the room. That’s when I made the grave mistake of looking at the front window next to the staircase in the living room.
Two eyes stared back at me, shining white with a touch of red in them. A demonic horned outline stood out, sinisterly grabbing hold of my gaze with the hellish stare it had locked me into.
I don’t remember the exact moment I let go, but my aunt was there to comfort me, calming me down, and the thing outside the window just stood still, flinching a little.
“It’s just a cat!” Aunt Greta said comfortingly, yet slightly irritated; shooing the horrid thing away by tapping the window lightly. It pounced through the window and out of my sight.
Innocent as that encounter had been all those years ago, it had instilled in me a heavy fear of cats and looking through windows in the dark of the night.
Yet tonight, I felt a different kind of heaviness. One that came with feelings of gloom and sadness. The story my mom told me about the skeletons was not a stranger to me. Yet, it was one story I could not find myself to bear. I felt like an idiot, asking to hear that story again. My mom had told it to me a few months back, and I felt the same melancholia back then. I felt that I had grown stronger within to be able to bare that dark tale again, yet, I had only found myself feeling bad about the skeletons. Even a tiny bit of guilt for keeping their suffering alive by asking that tale to be spoken again.
I had pretended to fall asleep in hopes of my mother leaving the story undone, and walking out alone, leaving me to face only my silly fear of the dark, and not this heavy air of sadness that had been left behind.
What was the point of that story? I asked myself. There was no moral attached, not a wholesome outcome. It was a story that tied an iron chain around my tiny eleven-year-old heart, and tossed it on the bottom of a river. I still feel the same way after all these years anyway.
And the way she would tell it, it made the whole experience even more depressing. So vivid, and indifferent her narration was, it was unsettling.
But thankfully, that night was not a snowy night. It was not even winter yet. The night was a rainy one.
There was no storm, not like I would have minded that anyway, but it was a calm, gentle rain with distant soothing rumble of thunder.
I closed my eyes to sleep through the gloom I felt, but the moment I did, images of skeletons building a tower of extracted skin and blood, and dancing to the moonlight filled the darkness.
I tried to think of other things, but the skeletons had already wrapped their body fingers all around my imagination.
I didn’t want to open my eyes and look around (and seeing risk the blinders on the window somehow opened), so I buried myself in the covers, and shut my eyes. My main concern was to just get to fall asleep somehow.
Slowly, I opened my eyes,
Just a tiny peek. Just a tiny peak and nothing would go wrong.
I looked out the covers, and scanned the room. The tiny line of light was gone. My mom had probably already gone to sleep.
My eyes then moved a slightly left, to the drawer, the pile of unread books on top of it, and then…. the window.
Nope!
I got of the covers, and ran to the door, all the while imagining eyes of that horrid thing in the window, I saw all those years ago following me.
I shut the door behind me, and decided to sneak to my parents’ room. I knew I wasn’t supposed to sneak out this way, my mom had a strict bedroom curfew at 9:00 p.m. for us kids. Of course, she would send us to bed earlier, but it was pretty clear she did not want us out of our rooms after nine.
But tonight, she had told me that story again, and hearing that led to a series of events that had led me to loose all of my bravery.
The rain did provide some comfort to me, calming and soft it was, I still dared not look at any windows of the hall.
Shielding half my field of vision by cupping my palm around my right eye, I went across the hall. The faint creaks of the wooden flooring making me painfully aware of my loneliness in the now dark hallway.
There was a corner up front, the left of which were some stairs leading down to the living room, and right of the corner, in a distance worth just a tiny few step was a turn, which led to the door to my parents’ bedroom, and the bathroom.
Now here, I stood still for a moment. I was trying to peak into the corner, and at the same time, trying to focus elsewhere.
If I wasn’t fast enough, something would come out of that corner, and grab me. There was so much darkness in that corner, it almost looked like a dark cloaked man sat there, concealing himself into that place with slow and even breaths.
The dark cloaked man breathed the light in and exhaled the dark. He was darkness itself. If I wasn’t quick enough, he would grab me with those long tendrils of his, and swallow me whole.
A rumble of thunder came, but not before a flash of lightning, lifting the veil of the dark from that corner, revealing… absolutely nothing. No cloaked men, no skeletons. But as soon as the light went away, I saw something there.
It was just for a tiny moment, but I swear I saw a big crawling mass of darkness. It was alive, and moving, with a thousand, or millions of appendeges, tendrils or even legs. Like a spider, or a squid, or some grotesque insect from the deep.
And when the thunder followed this time, it didn’t feel like the soothing, calming touch of my mother’s hands either; rather, it felt like a witch’s cackle, loud and hideous! Piercing through my soul and getting ever closer. A cackle from the depths of a throat with crawling maggots and rotting skin.
I bolted as fast as I can, almost tripping on my own feet, and somehow, I reached the room, and burst right through it. It was unlocked, and there I looked around in the dark, scanning frantically for my mother’s presence.
And there, standing in the dark, in front of the mirror stood someone. Hoping it was my mom, I tried to make out its features, but my heart was also infested with fear and I felt it clawing at my chest, pleading to be let out.
It was as tall as my mother, and was built like a woman. Yet…it was, naked. I could make the outline of bare, sagging breasts. Lighting struck again, this time bringing light to the entire room, and the thunder screamed a blood curdling scream as I saw the figure for what it was. The wrinkled, leathery and aged skin, along with a barren scalp. It’s lip, twisted and the jaws shut so closely, indicating a lack of teeth.
The naked old woman opened her mouth to say a few words, but I felt the world go dim around me, with a bright flash of light, before I was plunged into complete darkness.
Danny? Dan? Yeah…he’s opening his eyes…
The sound of my dad’s voice was the rope I pulled on to come out of my darkness, and I woke up with a jump.
My mother came up to the bed and wrapped her arms around me.
“I was so worried about you!” She said. “How are you feeling baby?”
Her arms around mine, I checked her for wrinkles, and suddenly feeling a bit stupid I turned a bit red.
My dad let out a laugh and punched me in the arm softly, and stood up, rubbing his bald head.
“I told you he’s a strong one. Aren’t you?”
I gave a hesitant nod.
My mother put her hands on my shoulders, sat back and looked me in the eye.
“Now, tell me what happened child. And tell me everything. It’s alright baby, mommy and daddy are here.”
I misliked the way she seemed to baby me, but I did not think to complain.
I looked at the window, the sun was rising up, and the sky seemed clear.
“Well I-“
I remembered what I saw the night before. The crawling mass of darkness, and the naked old lady.
It’s silly now that I think of it, but at that time, I was too embarrassed to tell my
parents that I saw a naked old woman, “NAKED” old woman in our house.
“I just had a bad dream… and I got scared.”
My mom stood up. Telling me words of comfort that were meaningless to me, and walked out, holding my sister’s hand and walking out the room downstairs.
“Dad.” I told my dad as he came down to sit next to me. “I think I want to sleep a bit.”
My dad nodded, “Do you want mom?” He asked me.
I refused and shut my eyes. I was too sleepy to care or think much.
I brushed the old lady off as a bad dream, and nothing more…during the day. At night, as much as I didn’t want to, I believed with all certainty that it was real. Our house was haunted by an old lady’s ghost. I had been sleepless the first few nights, even though I had mom next to me for three days. I kept a lookout at times, peeking out the sheets to see if the old lady had come back (making sure the blinds were shut first), but I didn’t see her.
A few weeks passed and I figured it was just a bad dream, and a year or two later, I pushed it in the rear end of my mind.
It was winter, and the first batch of snow had made its way to my hometown. Flecks of snow buried themselves in my hair, and their cousins and made their place on the ground, forming a white path home.
My sister and I usually walked home from school together. I usually was on my own while my sister talked to one of her friends, I didn’t really know any of them. She and I had never been close, and during school, we drifted apart even more.
She was in middle school, and she already knew what an enormous looser I was. I used to sneak out the school from the back, as to avoid Zackary Levitt and his “Henchmen”.
They never put a hand on me; and that’s how they got away with it. I felt ashamed, unable to stand up to them. Their words bit into me like rows of sharpened teeth.
The trouble began when a white cat had found itself in front of the school, and it got too close to me, and I cried because it kept hissing at me. A lot of people happened to see that. A lot.
Zachary rode past us in one of his friend’s car. I averted my eyes so as to not attract any attention, but the more I tried to look away, the surer my chances of being harassed were.
One of them poked their head out the window, making hissing sounds. That wasn’t so bad, but then I saw my sister and her friend turn back to look at me, and they chuckled a bit.
That hurt me even worse.
That encouraged them even more. They slowed the car a bit, now all of them started meowing and hissing at me while my sister and her friend looked straight ahead, probably trying to conceal their broad grins.
In my mind, I hid in a shell like a turtle, only hearing faint echoes of their taunts. Every time I got mad enough and yelled a few colourful words of my own, they pulled their fists, ready for a fight, and the scrawny, skinny kid I was, I thought it wiser to back away.
I never cried myself to sleep. I didn’t even think about it all that much to be honest. It had become such a normal occurrence; I didn’t feel much about it.
At nights, I stayed awake, staring up to the ceiling. The only source of light in the room was the tiny sliver that creeped in from outside, as my mom stayed up much later.
The blinds as usual, had to remain shut. My fear of cats and windows were the only two things I carried, other than my shame and constant feeling of emptiness. I didn’t care I didn’t have many friends, nor did I care much about school or anything… what I cared about was, seeing through this gloomy fog that surrounded me.
Knock
The sound of my door creaking open made me sit up.
“Happy birthday to you!” My mom sang, holding up a metal tray.
My sister and my dad followed behind, turning the lights on and mom sat in front of me on the bed, placing a tiny chocolate cupcake with a skinny red candle on it, right next to me.
I looked at the clock, it had struck 12.
I put on a smile, and accepted mom’s embrace. I still remember it vividly. She wore no perfume, yet she had a soothing motherly scent to her. Her arms were skinny, and yet she had a firm hold of me. The fabric of her sleeves felt slightly rough on my neck but I didn’t care.
She planted a kiss on my cheek.
“You’re a man now son!” My dad said. He still wore his uniform. He probably got the cake while patrolling, and he would probably have to go back to patrolling after this.
“Eighteen years!” Mom said smiling, “I can’t believe I’m that old now!” She laughed a bit, “Ellen, wish your brother!”
Ellen came to me, giving a forced, loose hug and wishing me awkwardly and moving next to mom.
“You know the rules…. You get the big cake tomorrow… and the gifts too.” Mom said.
“Well…” Dad cut in, adding to this playful act they put up, “Maybe except this.”
My dad handed me a white, unmarked box.
“Open it!” He said with a grin.
A lamp. A lamp that gave off a blue light. Nice.
“Well it isn’t much, but like your mom said, you get the real gifts tomorrow. We have to keep it exciting you know…” My dad gave me a wink. “But…I figured you’d probably have more use of this thing tonight.”
I thanked all of them, and they eventually departed for the night.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I was trying to get myself excited for tomorrow, but I felt nothing but emptiness. I felt like the best of my life had been over sometimes, and tonight was one of those times.
I flicked the light on, giving the room a blue tint, and creating a million shadows with the dim nightlight. And then turned it off, sending the room back into the darkness. It was better this way. The shadows formed strange shapes that I didn’t not want to see. Yet my thumb decided to flick the switch, creating an army of shadows in the room once more. And so, it went for a long while.
Tomorrow was Sunday, so I could stay up a bit later. My own room had begun to make me uncomfortable, so I decided to go downstairs and watch some T.V. Lamp in hand, I left the room.
I walked straight to the hall. The window tapped slightly as tiny snowflakes touched it on their way down, and yet, I could not bring myself to look that way. Like I said, the fear was one of the things I carried with me.
The bathroom lights were on, my mom was in there, her bedroom door was wide open. She sang a soft tune in the bathroom, and it just confirmed her presence in there. I would never forget that tune. It sounded like something old and gloomy. It provoked strange imagery in my mind, but only vague shapes that I couldn’t place. Coupled with the winter winds outside, it would form almost a haunting scenery.
The dark corner was still there, the light from the closed bathroom had not reached far enough. I was peeking at me, threating to show me horrid things in itself. Thankfully, I had the lamp in my hand for that. The light my mom and dad had given me, and I flicked it on, sending all terrible entities in the dark fleeing away and leaving behind an innocent corner.
I went down the stairs and to the living room, and watched 10 minutes of mindless television and my eyes began to get drowsy. Turning it off, I went back upstairs, readying myself for the sweet hold of a restful sleep.
I took the final step, looking down to flick the light on to scare the darkness in the corner away, and when I did, the blue light fell on the aged and wrinkled skin of a naked old woman.
I froze in fear. The light held still in my hands. The woman walked, straight past my parents’ bedroom, which was still wide open and in complete darkness, and to the bathroom.
I hear no singing from my mother, no sounds at all except the splashing of water. I stood there frozen. Blue light my only company, while that thing went inside with my mother.
The splashing grew intense, and yet, all I could do was stand still, my eyes wide open and my jaws clung tightly together. I was afraid. But, so afraid, I didn’t feel it. I became it. My body had forgotten it’s own self, and decided to accept whatever horrid end it awaited.
Splish. Splash.
I pictured nothing. It was just the of splashing water to me, nothing more. But I knew there was something far more sinister at hand. I awaited my consciousness to leave, and go far away from me, and yet, it stayed with me, holding my head firmly and making me experience the dreadful reality.
The light of the corner eventually faded, and I remember watching my dad banging at the bathroom door, while my sister stood crying in the corner. My dad yelled too but they were distant, and faint to me. I was trapped within my own shell of fear.
My dad kicked the door down, and there we found her. She lay still in the bathtub, now just a sack of pruned meat and not the person I remember as mom. Just flesh and bones. Flesh….and bones…
And then I realised the irony of it, and it seemed morbidly funny and I let out a slight chuckle. My lips quivered, not knowing whether to laugh or to mourn. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I fell on the floor, my throat threatening to tear as I cycled between crying and laughing, and crying and laughing and then … just weeping.
Mom was dead. And it was my fault as well. I should’ve entered. I could’ve helped her. If it wasn’t for my stupid fucking fears.
I ate my birthday cake while my dad spoke to other officers who’d come during the morning hours. His eyes had been bloodshot read, and it seemed like he was done crying, yet, he sat, putting on a strong face.
My dad helped me dress up for the funeral, I was in shock since her passing, and I barely spoke or got anywhere on my own.
On our way, watching the snowy winter land that our hometown was now transformed to, I remembered the old lady. I hadn’t told anyone about that. How could I? It had been just a nightmare, right? And even if it wasn’t, was I to tell them that I let a ghost drown my mother in a bathtub, even though the cause had been as an accident?
I embraced myself, the funeral was going to be hard on me, but I had to face it.
After walking through the few early arrivals, my grandparents and some uncles (all from my father’s side), I stood next to my dad, but my sister wanted to have some time alone with mother, so dad let her go first, silently patting her on the shoulder.
I stood next to him, hearing him talk in whispers as I saw down to the ground. I looked at the entrance of the church, turning my head away from the grim atmosphere, and there, I saw the outline of a person, a woman. I tried to make out which aunt or neighbour she was, but then she just walked out in a hurry.
I chalked it up to an honest mistake, and began to turn back, just when I heard my sister scream. I froze up for a moment, but I decided to fight through this time, following after my dad and his elder brother as they ran into the room.
My uncle reached first, and I slowed my pace seeing she was okay, he knelt down to my sister and exchanging a few words, before she pointed to my mother’s casket. He stood up abruptly as he saw within and shielded my sister’s eyes as well.
My dad looked into it, and gasped, covering his mouth with his roughened hands, and turned away.
My stomach began to drop, as I got closer, expecting the worst. I looked within.
She was completely naked. The dark gown she was supposed to be clad in was gone. A large cut had been made in her back, and blood, it was clean and dry. Mom no longer even looked like mom. I came to a horrible realisation, as the contents of my stomach began to rise up to my throat.
All that was left of her, was flesh and blood.
submitted by cleanyourbedroomboy to mrcreeps [link] [comments]


2020.10.18 17:48 cleanyourbedroomboy Naked moms kissing

“Once upon a time, in a cold, dark land, there was a king who lived on tall mountains of ice. A king without a castle, who sat on a throne of blood and skin; from the top of his mountain, he watched over his kingdom of skeletons; roaring loudly for his subject skeletons on the arrival of winter, cautioning them of the impending icy winds.”
“The skeleton kingdom was home to all kinds of skeletons. Tall skeletons, short skeletons, fat skeletons and thin skeletons, old skeletons and younger, fresher skeletons.”
“When they were old enough, a skeleton started to grow skin, or had blood flowing through its body. Every time that happened, they would go to the king, and bow in front of him”
““My lord of flesh and blood” A skeleton would say, “Here I give to you a humble offering, so you may make it one with your throne.” And with that, the skeleton would offer the king all the flesh and blood it had, and the king would find a place of it on his throne.”
“Every day, offers were made, and the throne grew bigger and bigger, taller and taller, fatter and fatter, and the king went up higher and higher.”
“More and more skeletons would come in every day and every night, and they would keep giving more and more flesh and blood to the king’s chair.”
“The king’s throne eventually grew so tall; his voice became faint, and soft to the ones who stood below. But the skeletons did not stop; like obedient subjects, they making their humble contributions to the throne.”
“Every day they added.”
“And every night they added.”
““My lord I come to offer you more of my own flesh and blood, and I hope my humble gives more strength to your throne.”, and in reply, they heard just a distant mumble from high up.”
“The throne eventually went so up high, the throne became a living tower, covered in flesh, with veins of blood flowing through it. If you were still enough, a faint heartbeat could be heard from within the tower.”
“The tower went so high up, the skeletons believed that it might have pierced through the skies.”
“One day, a skeleton bowed in front of the tower. Fresh blood dripping from his bony white hands, and a handful of extracted flesh tied neatly with ropes on his back. After his words of offering, he stood up, waiting for the king’s reply. And he waited, and waited. Not a sound. He said his words a second time. He was yet again, met with silence.”
“And then he looked up, to the vast throne he and his fellow skeletons had built, and on top of it…he froze. He could not locate the top.”
“He felt like a sailor on a boat, trapped in the still, windless of the ocean of time. A few moments felt like ages in this uncertain stillness he found himself in. And then, like a gentle breeze of hopeful wind, his skull was kissed by the dropping snow.”
“He waited for the king’s roar, knowing full well that it may never come. The king was lost in the skies.”
“The skeletons rejoiced that day. They had finally gotten themselves rid of the fleshed king that ruled over this land of bones. They had found freedom,”
“The skeletons sang all day. And they sang all night. They danced till their bones came apart, and fell on the icy terrain below; but they put it back together and danced some more.”
“They sang wildly while the moon watched silently. They continued their songs even when the moon had hidden under the blankets of a sunless winter day.”
“And as time went on, the skeletons had found themselves used to this life without a leader, and lived life free and happy.”
“Eventually, their skins began to grow back, and blood began to flow into their veins.”
“The snowfall never stopped. And the winds grew ever colder. And with the growth of their skins, the cold finally touched them. But the cold was not so gentle. It was a fierce, with icy teeth, aimed on their skins. Wanting to bite through their skins, and freeze their blood. And bite it did.”
“The skeletons had never felt the cold before. They had no understanding of it. But with the growth of their skins, they felt the harsh cold for the first time. And with this new agony, they had to live.”
“The old ones died first. And then the youngest ones found themselves frozen in the cold.”
“The skeletons fought against each other, accusing each other of being at fault for this unescapable cold of the harsh winter. And with that, eventually the skeleton kingdom found itself buried in the snow.”
“The few that lived now, found themselves slaves to the ice. By this time, they could not find a way to rid themselves of their skins either. The flesh had found roots in their bones now, and were an eternal part of them.”
“Every summer they lived in peace, but that was only before. Now, with summers, they found themselves preparing themselves for the winter, and with the winters, they prayed for the summer’s return.”
“They had tried to get their king back, readying themselves for heavy and heartfelt words of apologies, and for the punishment that might follow. Yet, the living tower had been darkened and withered by the icy winds of winter, and they king lay trapped on this tower of rot.”
“And so, with heavy hearts, the skeletons finally accepted their fate of agony and hardship, and are now subjects of the winter.”
My mother stood up straight, looking down on me as she smiled warmly, thinking I had fallen into a deep slumber, as she cautiously paced in a gentle manner to the door, and gently shut it, leaving only a tiny sliver of light seeping into my room.
Sleep hadn’t taken me yet, and I opened my eyes, to the dark room. The tiny amount of light that the door allowed in formed a line on the font wall of the room, vertically reaching from the top of the window to the floor.
I had made sure the windows had been kept covered by the blinders as tight as possible, so that I couldn’t accidentally find myself looking out of it. Or anything accidentally looking in.
I shivered at the thought.
When I was seven years old, my mother had been in the hospital, giving birth to my sister, and I had been staying with my aunt Greta at the time. I had been watching T.V. late at night; Aunt Greta didn’t care much about me going to sleep at the time my parents had set for me. But she herself, exhausted, and possibly maybe even slightly drunk, had found rest on the couch, sitting next to me, while the television flickered with various colours, illuminating her skin, edging towards the moment a light bright enough would jerk her out of her sleep. Aunt Greta won that battle, and managed to keep her sleep. But not me, I was on the loosing side, and sleep had finally begun to tug at me.
I tried distracting myself my shaking my head, and then looking around the room. That’s when I made the grave mistake of looking at the front window next to the staircase in the living room.
Two eyes stared back at me, shining white with a touch of red in them. A demonic horned outline stood out, sinisterly grabbing hold of my gaze with the hellish stare it had locked me into.
I don’t remember the exact moment I let go, but my aunt was there to comfort me, calming me down, and the thing outside the window just stood still, flinching a little.
“It’s just a cat!” Aunt Greta said comfortingly, yet slightly irritated; shooing the horrid thing away by tapping the window lightly. It pounced through the window and out of my sight.
Innocent as that encounter had been all those years ago, it had instilled in me a heavy fear of cats and looking through windows in the dark of the night.
Yet tonight, I felt a different kind of heaviness. One that came with feelings of gloom and sadness. The story my mom told me about the skeletons was not a stranger to me. Yet, it was one story I could not find myself to bear. I felt like an idiot, asking to hear that story again. My mom had told it to me a few months back, and I felt the same melancholia back then. I felt that I had grown stronger within to be able to bare that dark tale again, yet, I had only found myself feeling bad about the skeletons. Even a tiny bit of guilt for keeping their suffering alive by asking that tale to be spoken again.
I had pretended to fall asleep in hopes of my mother leaving the story undone, and walking out alone, leaving me to face only my silly fear of the dark, and not this heavy air of sadness that had been left behind.
What was the point of that story? I asked myself. There was no moral attached, not a wholesome outcome. It was a story that tied an iron chain around my tiny eleven-year-old heart, and tossed it on the bottom of a river. I still feel the same way after all these years anyway.
And the way she would tell it, it made the whole experience even more depressing. So vivid, and indifferent her narration was, it was unsettling.
But thankfully, that night was not a snowy night. It was not even winter yet. The night was a rainy one.
There was no storm, not like I would have minded that anyway, but it was a calm, gentle rain with distant soothing rumble of thunder.
I closed my eyes to sleep through the gloom I felt, but the moment I did, images of skeletons building a tower of extracted skin and blood, and dancing to the moonlight filled the darkness.
I tried to think of other things, but the skeletons had already wrapped their body fingers all around my imagination.
I didn’t want to open my eyes and look around (and seeing risk the blinders on the window somehow opened), so I buried myself in the covers, and shut my eyes. My main concern was to just get to fall asleep somehow.
Slowly, I opened my eyes,
Just a tiny peek. Just a tiny peak and nothing would go wrong.
I looked out the covers, and scanned the room. The tiny line of light was gone. My mom had probably already gone to sleep.
My eyes then moved a slightly left, to the drawer, the pile of unread books on top of it, and then…. the window.
Nope!
I got of the covers, and ran to the door, all the while imagining eyes of that horrid thing in the window, I saw all those years ago following me.
I shut the door behind me, and decided to sneak to my parents’ room. I knew I wasn’t supposed to sneak out this way, my mom had a strict bedroom curfew at 9:00 p.m. for us kids. Of course, she would send us to bed earlier, but it was pretty clear she did not want us out of our rooms after nine.
But tonight, she had told me that story again, and hearing that led to a series of events that had led me to loose all of my bravery.
The rain did provide some comfort to me, calming and soft it was, I still dared not look at any windows of the hall.
Shielding half my field of vision by cupping my palm around my right eye, I went across the hall. The faint creaks of the wooden flooring making me painfully aware of my loneliness in the now dark hallway.
There was a corner up front, the left of which were some stairs leading down to the living room, and right of the corner, in a distance worth just a tiny few step was a turn, which led to the door to my parents’ bedroom, and the bathroom.
Now here, I stood still for a moment. I was trying to peak into the corner, and at the same time, trying to focus elsewhere.
If I wasn’t fast enough, something would come out of that corner, and grab me. There was so much darkness in that corner, it almost looked like a dark cloaked man sat there, concealing himself into that place with slow and even breaths.
The dark cloaked man breathed the light in and exhaled the dark. He was darkness itself. If I wasn’t quick enough, he would grab me with those long tendrils of his, and swallow me whole.
A rumble of thunder came, but not before a flash of lightning, lifting the veil of the dark from that corner, revealing… absolutely nothing. No cloaked men, no skeletons. But as soon as the light went away, I saw something there.
It was just for a tiny moment, but I swear I saw a big crawling mass of darkness. It was alive, and moving, with a thousand, or millions of appendeges, tendrils or even legs. Like a spider, or a squid, or some grotesque insect from the deep.
And when the thunder followed this time, it didn’t feel like the soothing, calming touch of my mother’s hands either; rather, it felt like a witch’s cackle, loud and hideous! Piercing through my soul and getting ever closer. A cackle from the depths of a throat with crawling maggots and rotting skin.
I bolted as fast as I can, almost tripping on my own feet, and somehow, I reached the room, and burst right through it. It was unlocked, and there I looked around in the dark, scanning frantically for my mother’s presence.
And there, standing in the dark, in front of the mirror stood someone. Hoping it was my mom, I tried to make out its features, but my heart was also infested with fear and I felt it clawing at my chest, pleading to be let out.
It was as tall as my mother, and was built like a woman. Yet…it was, naked. I could make the outline of bare, sagging breasts. Lighting struck again, this time bringing light to the entire room, and the thunder screamed a blood curdling scream as I saw the figure for what it was. The wrinkled, leathery and aged skin, along with a barren scalp. It’s lip, twisted and the jaws shut so closely, indicating a lack of teeth.
The naked old woman opened her mouth to say a few words, but I felt the world go dim around me, with a bright flash of light, before I was plunged into complete darkness.
Danny? Dan? Yeah…he’s opening his eyes…
The sound of my dad’s voice was the rope I pulled on to come out of my darkness, and I woke up with a jump.
My mother came up to the bed and wrapped her arms around me.
“I was so worried about you!” She said. “How are you feeling baby?”
Her arms around mine, I checked her for wrinkles, and suddenly feeling a bit stupid I turned a bit red.
My dad let out a laugh and punched me in the arm softly, and stood up, rubbing his bald head.
“I told you he’s a strong one. Aren’t you?”
I gave a hesitant nod.
My mother put her hands on my shoulders, sat back and looked me in the eye.
“Now, tell me what happened child. And tell me everything. It’s alright baby, mommy and daddy are here.”
I misliked the way she seemed to baby me, but I did not think to complain.
I looked at the window, the sun was rising up, and the sky seemed clear.
“Well I-“
I remembered what I saw the night before. The crawling mass of darkness, and the naked old lady.
It’s silly now that I think of it, but at that time, I was too embarrassed to tell my
parents that I saw a naked old woman, “NAKED” old woman in our house.
“I just had a bad dream… and I got scared.”
My mom stood up. Telling me words of comfort that were meaningless to me, and walked out, holding my sister’s hand and walking out the room downstairs.
“Dad.” I told my dad as he came down to sit next to me. “I think I want to sleep a bit.”
My dad nodded, “Do you want mom?” He asked me.
I refused and shut my eyes. I was too sleepy to care or think much.
I brushed the old lady off as a bad dream, and nothing more…during the day. At night, as much as I didn’t want to, I believed with all certainty that it was real. Our house was haunted by an old lady’s ghost. I had been sleepless the first few nights, even though I had mom next to me for three days. I kept a lookout at times, peeking out the sheets to see if the old lady had come back (making sure the blinds were shut first), but I didn’t see her.
A few weeks passed and I figured it was just a bad dream, and a year or two later, I pushed it in the rear end of my mind.
It was winter, and the first batch of snow had made its way to my hometown. Flecks of snow buried themselves in my hair, and their cousins and made their place on the ground, forming a white path home.
My sister and I usually walked home from school together. I usually was on my own while my sister talked to one of her friends, I didn’t really know any of them. She and I had never been close, and during school, we drifted apart even more.
She was in middle school, and she already knew what an enormous looser I was. I used to sneak out the school from the back, as to avoid Zackary Levitt and his “Henchmen”.
They never put a hand on me; and that’s how they got away with it. I felt ashamed, unable to stand up to them. Their words bit into me like rows of sharpened teeth.
The trouble began when a white cat had found itself in front of the school, and it got too close to me, and I cried because it kept hissing at me. A lot of people happened to see that. A lot.
Zachary rode past us in one of his friend’s car. I averted my eyes so as to not attract any attention, but the more I tried to look away, the surer my chances of being harassed were.
One of them poked their head out the window, making hissing sounds. That wasn’t so bad, but then I saw my sister and her friend turn back to look at me, and they chuckled a bit.
That hurt me even worse.
That encouraged them even more. They slowed the car a bit, now all of them started meowing and hissing at me while my sister and her friend looked straight ahead, probably trying to conceal their broad grins.
In my mind, I hid in a shell like a turtle, only hearing faint echoes of their taunts. Every time I got mad enough and yelled a few colourful words of my own, they pulled their fists, ready for a fight, and the scrawny, skinny kid I was, I thought it wiser to back away.
I never cried myself to sleep. I didn’t even think about it all that much to be honest. It had become such a normal occurrence; I didn’t feel much about it.
At nights, I stayed awake, staring up to the ceiling. The only source of light in the room was the tiny sliver that creeped in from outside, as my mom stayed up much later.
The blinds as usual, had to remain shut. My fear of cats and windows were the only two things I carried, other than my shame and constant feeling of emptiness. I didn’t care I didn’t have many friends, nor did I care much about school or anything… what I cared about was, seeing through this gloomy fog that surrounded me.
Knock
The sound of my door creaking open made me sit up.
“Happy birthday to you!” My mom sang, holding up a metal tray.
My sister and my dad followed behind, turning the lights on and mom sat in front of me on the bed, placing a tiny chocolate cupcake with a skinny red candle on it, right next to me.
I looked at the clock, it had struck 12.
I put on a smile, and accepted mom’s embrace. I still remember it vividly. She wore no perfume, yet she had a soothing motherly scent to her. Her arms were skinny, and yet she had a firm hold of me. The fabric of her sleeves felt slightly rough on my neck but I didn’t care.
She planted a kiss on my cheek.
“You’re a man now son!” My dad said. He still wore his uniform. He probably got the cake while patrolling, and he would probably have to go back to patrolling after this.
“Eighteen years!” Mom said smiling, “I can’t believe I’m that old now!” She laughed a bit, “Ellen, wish your brother!”
Ellen came to me, giving a forced, loose hug and wishing me awkwardly and moving next to mom.
“You know the rules…. You get the big cake tomorrow… and the gifts too.” Mom said.
“Well…” Dad cut in, adding to this playful act they put up, “Maybe except this.”
My dad handed me a white, unmarked box.
“Open it!” He said with a grin.
A lamp. A lamp that gave off a blue light. Nice.
“Well it isn’t much, but like your mom said, you get the real gifts tomorrow. We have to keep it exciting you know…” My dad gave me a wink. “But…I figured you’d probably have more use of this thing tonight.”
I thanked all of them, and they eventually departed for the night.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I was trying to get myself excited for tomorrow, but I felt nothing but emptiness. I felt like the best of my life had been over sometimes, and tonight was one of those times.
I flicked the light on, giving the room a blue tint, and creating a million shadows with the dim nightlight. And then turned it off, sending the room back into the darkness. It was better this way. The shadows formed strange shapes that I didn’t not want to see. Yet my thumb decided to flick the switch, creating an army of shadows in the room once more. And so, it went for a long while.
Tomorrow was Sunday, so I could stay up a bit later. My own room had begun to make me uncomfortable, so I decided to go downstairs and watch some T.V. Lamp in hand, I left the room.
I walked straight to the hall. The window tapped slightly as tiny snowflakes touched it on their way down, and yet, I could not bring myself to look that way. Like I said, the fear was one of the things I carried with me.
The bathroom lights were on, my mom was in there, her bedroom door was wide open. She sang a soft tune in the bathroom, and it just confirmed her presence in there. I would never forget that tune. It sounded like something old and gloomy. It provoked strange imagery in my mind, but only vague shapes that I couldn’t place. Coupled with the winter winds outside, it would form almost a haunting scenery.
The dark corner was still there, the light from the closed bathroom had not reached far enough. I was peeking at me, threating to show me horrid things in itself. Thankfully, I had the lamp in my hand for that. The light my mom and dad had given me, and I flicked it on, sending all terrible entities in the dark fleeing away and leaving behind an innocent corner.
I went down the stairs and to the living room, and watched 10 minutes of mindless television and my eyes began to get drowsy. Turning it off, I went back upstairs, readying myself for the sweet hold of a restful sleep.
I took the final step, looking down to flick the light on to scare the darkness in the corner away, and when I did, the blue light fell on the aged and wrinkled skin of a naked old woman.
I froze in fear. The light held still in my hands. The woman walked, straight past my parents’ bedroom, which was still wide open and in complete darkness, and to the bathroom.
I hear no singing from my mother, no sounds at all except the splashing of water. I stood there frozen. Blue light my only company, while that thing went inside with my mother.
The splashing grew intense, and yet, all I could do was stand still, my eyes wide open and my jaws clung tightly together. I was afraid. But, so afraid, I didn’t feel it. I became it. My body had forgotten it’s own self, and decided to accept whatever horrid end it awaited.
Splish. Splash.
I pictured nothing. It was just the of splashing water to me, nothing more. But I knew there was something far more sinister at hand. I awaited my consciousness to leave, and go far away from me, and yet, it stayed with me, holding my head firmly and making me experience the dreadful reality.
The light of the corner eventually faded, and I remember watching my dad banging at the bathroom door, while my sister stood crying in the corner. My dad yelled too but they were distant, and faint to me. I was trapped within my own shell of fear.
My dad kicked the door down, and there we found her. She lay still in the bathtub, now just a sack of pruned meat and not the person I remember as mom. Just flesh and bones. Flesh….and bones…
And then I realised the irony of it, and it seemed morbidly funny and I let out a slight chuckle. My lips quivered, not knowing whether to laugh or to mourn. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I fell on the floor, my throat threatening to tear as I cycled between crying and laughing, and crying and laughing and then … just weeping.
Mom was dead. And it was my fault as well. I should’ve entered. I could’ve helped her. If it wasn’t for my stupid fucking fears.
I ate my birthday cake while my dad spoke to other officers who’d come during the morning hours. His eyes had been bloodshot read, and it seemed like he was done crying, yet, he sat, putting on a strong face.
My dad helped me dress up for the funeral, I was in shock since her passing, and I barely spoke or got anywhere on my own.
On our way, watching the snowy winter land that our hometown was now transformed to, I remembered the old lady. I hadn’t told anyone about that. How could I? It had been just a nightmare, right? And even if it wasn’t, was I to tell them that I let a ghost drown my mother in a bathtub, even though the cause had been as an accident?
I embraced myself, the funeral was going to be hard on me, but I had to face it.
After walking through the few early arrivals, my grandparents and some uncles (all from my father’s side), I stood next to my dad, but my sister wanted to have some time alone with mother, so dad let her go first, silently patting her on the shoulder.
I stood next to him, hearing him talk in whispers as I saw down to the ground. I looked at the entrance of the church, turning my head away from the grim atmosphere, and there, I saw the outline of a person, a woman. I tried to make out which aunt or neighbour she was, but then she just walked out in a hurry.
I chalked it up to an honest mistake, and began to turn back, just when I heard my sister scream. I froze up for a moment, but I decided to fight through this time, following after my dad and his elder brother as they ran into the room.
My uncle reached first, and I slowed my pace seeing she was okay, he knelt down to my sister and exchanging a few words, before she pointed to my mother’s casket. He stood up abruptly as he saw within and shielded my sister’s eyes as well.
My dad looked into it, and gasped, covering his mouth with his roughened hands, and turned away.
My stomach began to drop, as I got closer, expecting the worst. I looked within.
She was completely naked. The dark gown she was supposed to be clad in was gone. A large cut had been made in her back, and blood, it was clean and dry. Mom no longer even looked like mom. I came to a horrible realisation, as the contents of my stomach began to rise up to my throat.
All that was left of her, was flesh and blood.
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2020.10.18 17:47 cleanyourbedroomboy Naked moms kissing

“Once upon a time, in a cold, dark land, there was a king who lived on tall mountains of ice. A king without a castle, who sat on a throne of blood and skin; from the top of his mountain, he watched over his kingdom of skeletons; roaring loudly for his subject skeletons on the arrival of winter, cautioning them of the impending icy winds.”
“The skeleton kingdom was home to all kinds of skeletons. Tall skeletons, short skeletons, fat skeletons and thin skeletons, old skeletons and younger, fresher skeletons.”
“When they were old enough, a skeleton started to grow skin, or had blood flowing through its body. Every time that happened, they would go to the king, and bow in front of him”
““My lord of flesh and blood” A skeleton would say, “Here I give to you a humble offering, so you may make it one with your throne.” And with that, the skeleton would offer the king all the flesh and blood it had, and the king would find a place of it on his throne.”
“Every day, offers were made, and the throne grew bigger and bigger, taller and taller, fatter and fatter, and the king went up higher and higher.”
“More and more skeletons would come in every day and every night, and they would keep giving more and more flesh and blood to the king’s chair.”
“The king’s throne eventually grew so tall; his voice became faint, and soft to the ones who stood below. But the skeletons did not stop; like obedient subjects, they making their humble contributions to the throne.”
“Every day they added.”
“And every night they added.”
““My lord I come to offer you more of my own flesh and blood, and I hope my humble gives more strength to your throne.”, and in reply, they heard just a distant mumble from high up.”
“The throne eventually went so up high, the throne became a living tower, covered in flesh, with veins of blood flowing through it. If you were still enough, a faint heartbeat could be heard from within the tower.”
“The tower went so high up, the skeletons believed that it might have pierced through the skies.”
“One day, a skeleton bowed in front of the tower. Fresh blood dripping from his bony white hands, and a handful of extracted flesh tied neatly with ropes on his back. After his words of offering, he stood up, waiting for the king’s reply. And he waited, and waited. Not a sound. He said his words a second time. He was yet again, met with silence.”
“And then he looked up, to the vast throne he and his fellow skeletons had built, and on top of it…he froze. He could not locate the top.”
“He felt like a sailor on a boat, trapped in the still, windless of the ocean of time. A few moments felt like ages in this uncertain stillness he found himself in. And then, like a gentle breeze of hopeful wind, his skull was kissed by the dropping snow.”
“He waited for the king’s roar, knowing full well that it may never come. The king was lost in the skies.”
“The skeletons rejoiced that day. They had finally gotten themselves rid of the fleshed king that ruled over this land of bones. They had found freedom,”
“The skeletons sang all day. And they sang all night. They danced till their bones came apart, and fell on the icy terrain below; but they put it back together and danced some more.”
“They sang wildly while the moon watched silently. They continued their songs even when the moon had hidden under the blankets of a sunless winter day.”
“And as time went on, the skeletons had found themselves used to this life without a leader, and lived life free and happy.”
“Eventually, their skins began to grow back, and blood began to flow into their veins.”
“The snowfall never stopped. And the winds grew ever colder. And with the growth of their skins, the cold finally touched them. But the cold was not so gentle. It was a fierce, with icy teeth, aimed on their skins. Wanting to bite through their skins, and freeze their blood. And bite it did.”
“The skeletons had never felt the cold before. They had no understanding of it. But with the growth of their skins, they felt the harsh cold for the first time. And with this new agony, they had to live.”
“The old ones died first. And then the youngest ones found themselves frozen in the cold.”
“The skeletons fought against each other, accusing each other of being at fault for this unescapable cold of the harsh winter. And with that, eventually the skeleton kingdom found itself buried in the snow.”
“The few that lived now, found themselves slaves to the ice. By this time, they could not find a way to rid themselves of their skins either. The flesh had found roots in their bones now, and were an eternal part of them.”
“Every summer they lived in peace, but that was only before. Now, with summers, they found themselves preparing themselves for the winter, and with the winters, they prayed for the summer’s return.”
“They had tried to get their king back, readying themselves for heavy and heartfelt words of apologies, and for the punishment that might follow. Yet, the living tower had been darkened and withered by the icy winds of winter, and they king lay trapped on this tower of rot.”
“And so, with heavy hearts, the skeletons finally accepted their fate of agony and hardship, and are now subjects of the winter.”
My mother stood up straight, looking down on me as she smiled warmly, thinking I had fallen into a deep slumber, as she cautiously paced in a gentle manner to the door, and gently shut it, leaving only a tiny sliver of light seeping into my room.
Sleep hadn’t taken me yet, and I opened my eyes, to the dark room. The tiny amount of light that the door allowed in formed a line on the font wall of the room, vertically reaching from the top of the window to the floor.
I had made sure the windows had been kept covered by the blinders as tight as possible, so that I couldn’t accidentally find myself looking out of it. Or anything accidentally looking in.
I shivered at the thought.
When I was seven years old, my mother had been in the hospital, giving birth to my sister, and I had been staying with my aunt Greta at the time. I had been watching T.V. late at night; Aunt Greta didn’t care much about me going to sleep at the time my parents had set for me. But she herself, exhausted, and possibly maybe even slightly drunk, had found rest on the couch, sitting next to me, while the television flickered with various colours, illuminating her skin, edging towards the moment a light bright enough would jerk her out of her sleep. Aunt Greta won that battle, and managed to keep her sleep. But not me, I was on the loosing side, and sleep had finally begun to tug at me.
I tried distracting myself my shaking my head, and then looking around the room. That’s when I made the grave mistake of looking at the front window next to the staircase in the living room.
Two eyes stared back at me, shining white with a touch of red in them. A demonic horned outline stood out, sinisterly grabbing hold of my gaze with the hellish stare it had locked me into.
I don’t remember the exact moment I let go, but my aunt was there to comfort me, calming me down, and the thing outside the window just stood still, flinching a little.
“It’s just a cat!” Aunt Greta said comfortingly, yet slightly irritated; shooing the horrid thing away by tapping the window lightly. It pounced through the window and out of my sight.
Innocent as that encounter had been all those years ago, it had instilled in me a heavy fear of cats and looking through windows in the dark of the night.
Yet tonight, I felt a different kind of heaviness. One that came with feelings of gloom and sadness. The story my mom told me about the skeletons was not a stranger to me. Yet, it was one story I could not find myself to bear. I felt like an idiot, asking to hear that story again. My mom had told it to me a few months back, and I felt the same melancholia back then. I felt that I had grown stronger within to be able to bare that dark tale again, yet, I had only found myself feeling bad about the skeletons. Even a tiny bit of guilt for keeping their suffering alive by asking that tale to be spoken again.
I had pretended to fall asleep in hopes of my mother leaving the story undone, and walking out alone, leaving me to face only my silly fear of the dark, and not this heavy air of sadness that had been left behind.
What was the point of that story? I asked myself. There was no moral attached, not a wholesome outcome. It was a story that tied an iron chain around my tiny eleven-year-old heart, and tossed it on the bottom of a river. I still feel the same way after all these years anyway.
And the way she would tell it, it made the whole experience even more depressing. So vivid, and indifferent her narration was, it was unsettling.
But thankfully, that night was not a snowy night. It was not even winter yet. The night was a rainy one.
There was no storm, not like I would have minded that anyway, but it was a calm, gentle rain with distant soothing rumble of thunder.
I closed my eyes to sleep through the gloom I felt, but the moment I did, images of skeletons building a tower of extracted skin and blood, and dancing to the moonlight filled the darkness.
I tried to think of other things, but the skeletons had already wrapped their body fingers all around my imagination.
I didn’t want to open my eyes and look around (and seeing risk the blinders on the window somehow opened), so I buried myself in the covers, and shut my eyes. My main concern was to just get to fall asleep somehow.
Slowly, I opened my eyes,
Just a tiny peek. Just a tiny peak and nothing would go wrong.
I looked out the covers, and scanned the room. The tiny line of light was gone. My mom had probably already gone to sleep.
My eyes then moved a slightly left, to the drawer, the pile of unread books on top of it, and then…. the window.
Nope!
I got of the covers, and ran to the door, all the while imagining eyes of that horrid thing in the window, I saw all those years ago following me.
I shut the door behind me, and decided to sneak to my parents’ room. I knew I wasn’t supposed to sneak out this way, my mom had a strict bedroom curfew at 9:00 p.m. for us kids. Of course, she would send us to bed earlier, but it was pretty clear she did not want us out of our rooms after nine.
But tonight, she had told me that story again, and hearing that led to a series of events that had led me to loose all of my bravery.
The rain did provide some comfort to me, calming and soft it was, I still dared not look at any windows of the hall.
Shielding half my field of vision by cupping my palm around my right eye, I went across the hall. The faint creaks of the wooden flooring making me painfully aware of my loneliness in the now dark hallway.
There was a corner up front, the left of which were some stairs leading down to the living room, and right of the corner, in a distance worth just a tiny few step was a turn, which led to the door to my parents’ bedroom, and the bathroom.
Now here, I stood still for a moment. I was trying to peak into the corner, and at the same time, trying to focus elsewhere.
If I wasn’t fast enough, something would come out of that corner, and grab me. There was so much darkness in that corner, it almost looked like a dark cloaked man sat there, concealing himself into that place with slow and even breaths.
The dark cloaked man breathed the light in and exhaled the dark. He was darkness itself. If I wasn’t quick enough, he would grab me with those long tendrils of his, and swallow me whole.
A rumble of thunder came, but not before a flash of lightning, lifting the veil of the dark from that corner, revealing… absolutely nothing. No cloaked men, no skeletons. But as soon as the light went away, I saw something there.
It was just for a tiny moment, but I swear I saw a big crawling mass of darkness. It was alive, and moving, with a thousand, or millions of appendeges, tendrils or even legs. Like a spider, or a squid, or some grotesque insect from the deep.
And when the thunder followed this time, it didn’t feel like the soothing, calming touch of my mother’s hands either; rather, it felt like a witch’s cackle, loud and hideous! Piercing through my soul and getting ever closer. A cackle from the depths of a throat with crawling maggots and rotting skin.
I bolted as fast as I can, almost tripping on my own feet, and somehow, I reached the room, and burst right through it. It was unlocked, and there I looked around in the dark, scanning frantically for my mother’s presence.
And there, standing in the dark, in front of the mirror stood someone. Hoping it was my mom, I tried to make out its features, but my heart was also infested with fear and I felt it clawing at my chest, pleading to be let out.
It was as tall as my mother, and was built like a woman. Yet…it was, naked. I could make the outline of bare, sagging breasts. Lighting struck again, this time bringing light to the entire room, and the thunder screamed a blood curdling scream as I saw the figure for what it was. The wrinkled, leathery and aged skin, along with a barren scalp. It’s lip, twisted and the jaws shut so closely, indicating a lack of teeth.
The naked old woman opened her mouth to say a few words, but I felt the world go dim around me, with a bright flash of light, before I was plunged into complete darkness.
Danny? Dan? Yeah…he’s opening his eyes…
The sound of my dad’s voice was the rope I pulled on to come out of my darkness, and I woke up with a jump.
My mother came up to the bed and wrapped her arms around me.
“I was so worried about you!” She said. “How are you feeling baby?”
Her arms around mine, I checked her for wrinkles, and suddenly feeling a bit stupid I turned a bit red.
My dad let out a laugh and punched me in the arm softly, and stood up, rubbing his bald head.
“I told you he’s a strong one. Aren’t you?”
I gave a hesitant nod.
My mother put her hands on my shoulders, sat back and looked me in the eye.
“Now, tell me what happened child. And tell me everything. It’s alright baby, mommy and daddy are here.”
I misliked the way she seemed to baby me, but I did not think to complain.
I looked at the window, the sun was rising up, and the sky seemed clear.
“Well I-“
I remembered what I saw the night before. The crawling mass of darkness, and the naked old lady.
It’s silly now that I think of it, but at that time, I was too embarrassed to tell my
parents that I saw a naked old woman, “NAKED” old woman in our house.
“I just had a bad dream… and I got scared.”
My mom stood up. Telling me words of comfort that were meaningless to me, and walked out, holding my sister’s hand and walking out the room downstairs.
“Dad.” I told my dad as he came down to sit next to me. “I think I want to sleep a bit.”
My dad nodded, “Do you want mom?” He asked me.
I refused and shut my eyes. I was too sleepy to care or think much.
I brushed the old lady off as a bad dream, and nothing more…during the day. At night, as much as I didn’t want to, I believed with all certainty that it was real. Our house was haunted by an old lady’s ghost. I had been sleepless the first few nights, even though I had mom next to me for three days. I kept a lookout at times, peeking out the sheets to see if the old lady had come back (making sure the blinds were shut first), but I didn’t see her.
A few weeks passed and I figured it was just a bad dream, and a year or two later, I pushed it in the rear end of my mind.
It was winter, and the first batch of snow had made its way to my hometown. Flecks of snow buried themselves in my hair, and their cousins and made their place on the ground, forming a white path home.
My sister and I usually walked home from school together. I usually was on my own while my sister talked to one of her friends, I didn’t really know any of them. She and I had never been close, and during school, we drifted apart even more.
She was in middle school, and she already knew what an enormous looser I was. I used to sneak out the school from the back, as to avoid Zackary Levitt and his “Henchmen”.
They never put a hand on me; and that’s how they got away with it. I felt ashamed, unable to stand up to them. Their words bit into me like rows of sharpened teeth.
The trouble began when a white cat had found itself in front of the school, and it got too close to me, and I cried because it kept hissing at me. A lot of people happened to see that. A lot.
Zachary rode past us in one of his friend’s car. I averted my eyes so as to not attract any attention, but the more I tried to look away, the surer my chances of being harassed were.
One of them poked their head out the window, making hissing sounds. That wasn’t so bad, but then I saw my sister and her friend turn back to look at me, and they chuckled a bit.
That hurt me even worse.
That encouraged them even more. They slowed the car a bit, now all of them started meowing and hissing at me while my sister and her friend looked straight ahead, probably trying to conceal their broad grins.
In my mind, I hid in a shell like a turtle, only hearing faint echoes of their taunts. Every time I got mad enough and yelled a few colourful words of my own, they pulled their fists, ready for a fight, and the scrawny, skinny kid I was, I thought it wiser to back away.
I never cried myself to sleep. I didn’t even think about it all that much to be honest. It had become such a normal occurrence; I didn’t feel much about it.
At nights, I stayed awake, staring up to the ceiling. The only source of light in the room was the tiny sliver that creeped in from outside, as my mom stayed up much later.
The blinds as usual, had to remain shut. My fear of cats and windows were the only two things I carried, other than my shame and constant feeling of emptiness. I didn’t care I didn’t have many friends, nor did I care much about school or anything… what I cared about was, seeing through this gloomy fog that surrounded me.
Knock
The sound of my door creaking open made me sit up.
“Happy birthday to you!” My mom sang, holding up a metal tray.
My sister and my dad followed behind, turning the lights on and mom sat in front of me on the bed, placing a tiny chocolate cupcake with a skinny red candle on it, right next to me.
I looked at the clock, it had struck 12.
I put on a smile, and accepted mom’s embrace. I still remember it vividly. She wore no perfume, yet she had a soothing motherly scent to her. Her arms were skinny, and yet she had a firm hold of me. The fabric of her sleeves felt slightly rough on my neck but I didn’t care.
She planted a kiss on my cheek.
“You’re a man now son!” My dad said. He still wore his uniform. He probably got the cake while patrolling, and he would probably have to go back to patrolling after this.
“Eighteen years!” Mom said smiling, “I can’t believe I’m that old now!” She laughed a bit, “Ellen, wish your brother!”
Ellen came to me, giving a forced, loose hug and wishing me awkwardly and moving next to mom.
“You know the rules…. You get the big cake tomorrow… and the gifts too.” Mom said.
“Well…” Dad cut in, adding to this playful act they put up, “Maybe except this.”
My dad handed me a white, unmarked box.
“Open it!” He said with a grin.
A lamp. A lamp that gave off a blue light. Nice.
“Well it isn’t much, but like your mom said, you get the real gifts tomorrow. We have to keep it exciting you know…” My dad gave me a wink. “But…I figured you’d probably have more use of this thing tonight.”
I thanked all of them, and they eventually departed for the night.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I was trying to get myself excited for tomorrow, but I felt nothing but emptiness. I felt like the best of my life had been over sometimes, and tonight was one of those times.
I flicked the light on, giving the room a blue tint, and creating a million shadows with the dim nightlight. And then turned it off, sending the room back into the darkness. It was better this way. The shadows formed strange shapes that I didn’t not want to see. Yet my thumb decided to flick the switch, creating an army of shadows in the room once more. And so, it went for a long while.
Tomorrow was Sunday, so I could stay up a bit later. My own room had begun to make me uncomfortable, so I decided to go downstairs and watch some T.V. Lamp in hand, I left the room.
I walked straight to the hall. The window tapped slightly as tiny snowflakes touched it on their way down, and yet, I could not bring myself to look that way. Like I said, the fear was one of the things I carried with me.
The bathroom lights were on, my mom was in there, her bedroom door was wide open. She sang a soft tune in the bathroom, and it just confirmed her presence in there. I would never forget that tune. It sounded like something old and gloomy. It provoked strange imagery in my mind, but only vague shapes that I couldn’t place. Coupled with the winter winds outside, it would form almost a haunting scenery.
The dark corner was still there, the light from the closed bathroom had not reached far enough. I was peeking at me, threating to show me horrid things in itself. Thankfully, I had the lamp in my hand for that. The light my mom and dad had given me, and I flicked it on, sending all terrible entities in the dark fleeing away and leaving behind an innocent corner.
I went down the stairs and to the living room, and watched 10 minutes of mindless television and my eyes began to get drowsy. Turning it off, I went back upstairs, readying myself for the sweet hold of a restful sleep.
I took the final step, looking down to flick the light on to scare the darkness in the corner away, and when I did, the blue light fell on the aged and wrinkled skin of a naked old woman.
I froze in fear. The light held still in my hands. The woman walked, straight past my parents’ bedroom, which was still wide open and in complete darkness, and to the bathroom.
I hear no singing from my mother, no sounds at all except the splashing of water. I stood there frozen. Blue light my only company, while that thing went inside with my mother.
The splashing grew intense, and yet, all I could do was stand still, my eyes wide open and my jaws clung tightly together. I was afraid. But, so afraid, I didn’t feel it. I became it. My body had forgotten it’s own self, and decided to accept whatever horrid end it awaited.
Splish. Splash.
I pictured nothing. It was just the of splashing water to me, nothing more. But I knew there was something far more sinister at hand. I awaited my consciousness to leave, and go far away from me, and yet, it stayed with me, holding my head firmly and making me experience the dreadful reality.
The light of the corner eventually faded, and I remember watching my dad banging at the bathroom door, while my sister stood crying in the corner. My dad yelled too but they were distant, and faint to me. I was trapped within my own shell of fear.
My dad kicked the door down, and there we found her. She lay still in the bathtub, now just a sack of pruned meat and not the person I remember as mom. Just flesh and bones. Flesh….and bones…
And then I realised the irony of it, and it seemed morbidly funny and I let out a slight chuckle. My lips quivered, not knowing whether to laugh or to mourn. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I fell on the floor, my throat threatening to tear as I cycled between crying and laughing, and crying and laughing and then … just weeping.
Mom was dead. And it was my fault as well. I should’ve entered. I could’ve helped her. If it wasn’t for my stupid fucking fears.
I ate my birthday cake while my dad spoke to other officers who’d come during the morning hours. His eyes had been bloodshot read, and it seemed like he was done crying, yet, he sat, putting on a strong face.
My dad helped me dress up for the funeral, I was in shock since her passing, and I barely spoke or got anywhere on my own.
On our way, watching the snowy winter land that our hometown was now transformed to, I remembered the old lady. I hadn’t told anyone about that. How could I? It had been just a nightmare, right? And even if it wasn’t, was I to tell them that I let a ghost drown my mother in a bathtub, even though the cause had been as an accident?
I embraced myself, the funeral was going to be hard on me, but I had to face it.
After walking through the few early arrivals, my grandparents and some uncles (all from my father’s side), I stood next to my dad, but my sister wanted to have some time alone with mother, so dad let her go first, silently patting her on the shoulder.
I stood next to him, hearing him talk in whispers as I saw down to the ground. I looked at the entrance of the church, turning my head away from the grim atmosphere, and there, I saw the outline of a person, a woman. I tried to make out which aunt or neighbour she was, but then she just walked out in a hurry.
I chalked it up to an honest mistake, and began to turn back, just when I heard my sister scream. I froze up for a moment, but I decided to fight through this time, following after my dad and his elder brother as they ran into the room.
My uncle reached first, and I slowed my pace seeing she was okay, he knelt down to my sister and exchanging a few words, before she pointed to my mother’s casket. He stood up abruptly as he saw within and shielded my sister’s eyes as well.
My dad looked into it, and gasped, covering his mouth with his roughened hands, and turned away.
My stomach began to drop, as I got closer, expecting the worst. I looked within.
She was completely naked. The dark gown she was supposed to be clad in was gone. A large cut had been made in her back, and blood, it was clean and dry. Mom no longer even looked like mom. I came to a horrible realisation, as the contents of my stomach began to rise up to my throat.
All that was left of her, was flesh and blood.
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2020.10.18 17:47 cleanyourbedroomboy Skeletons Of Winter Part I

“Once upon a time, in a cold, dark land, there was a king who lived on tall mountains of ice. A king without a castle, who sat on a throne of blood and skin; from the top of his mountain, he watched over his kingdom of skeletons; roaring loudly for his subject skeletons on the arrival of winter, cautioning them of the impending icy winds.”
“The skeleton kingdom was home to all kinds of skeletons. Tall skeletons, short skeletons, fat skeletons and thin skeletons, old skeletons and younger, fresher skeletons.”
“When they were old enough, a skeleton started to grow skin, or had blood flowing through its body. Every time that happened, they would go to the king, and bow in front of him”
““My lord of flesh and blood” A skeleton would say, “Here I give to you a humble offering, so you may make it one with your throne.” And with that, the skeleton would offer the king all the flesh and blood it had, and the king would find a place of it on his throne.”
“Every day, offers were made, and the throne grew bigger and bigger, taller and taller, fatter and fatter, and the king went up higher and higher.”
“More and more skeletons would come in every day and every night, and they would keep giving more and more flesh and blood to the king’s chair.”
“The king’s throne eventually grew so tall; his voice became faint, and soft to the ones who stood below. But the skeletons did not stop; like obedient subjects, they making their humble contributions to the throne.”
“Every day they added.”
“And every night they added.”
““My lord I come to offer you more of my own flesh and blood, and I hope my humble gives more strength to your throne.”, and in reply, they heard just a distant mumble from high up.”
“The throne eventually went so up high, the throne became a living tower, covered in flesh, with veins of blood flowing through it. If you were still enough, a faint heartbeat could be heard from within the tower.”
“The tower went so high up, the skeletons believed that it might have pierced through the skies.”
“One day, a skeleton bowed in front of the tower. Fresh blood dripping from his bony white hands, and a handful of extracted flesh tied neatly with ropes on his back. After his words of offering, he stood up, waiting for the king’s reply. And he waited, and waited. Not a sound. He said his words a second time. He was yet again, met with silence.”
“And then he looked up, to the vast throne he and his fellow skeletons had built, and on top of it…he froze. He could not locate the top.”
“He felt like a sailor on a boat, trapped in the still, windless of the ocean of time. A few moments felt like ages in this uncertain stillness he found himself in. And then, like a gentle breeze of hopeful wind, his skull was kissed by the dropping snow.”
“He waited for the king’s roar, knowing full well that it may never come. The king was lost in the skies.”
“The skeletons rejoiced that day. They had finally gotten themselves rid of the fleshed king that ruled over this land of bones. They had found freedom,”
“The skeletons sang all day. And they sang all night. They danced till their bones came apart, and fell on the icy terrain below; but they put it back together and danced some more.”
“They sang wildly while the moon watched silently. They continued their songs even when the moon had hidden under the blankets of a sunless winter day.”
“And as time went on, the skeletons had found themselves used to this life without a leader, and lived life free and happy.”
“Eventually, their skins began to grow back, and blood began to flow into their veins.”
“The snowfall never stopped. And the winds grew ever colder. And with the growth of their skins, the cold finally touched them. But the cold was not so gentle. It was a fierce, with icy teeth, aimed on their skins. Wanting to bite through their skins, and freeze their blood. And bite it did.”
“The skeletons had never felt the cold before. They had no understanding of it. But with the growth of their skins, they felt the harsh cold for the first time. And with this new agony, they had to live.”
“The old ones died first. And then the youngest ones found themselves frozen in the cold.”
“The skeletons fought against each other, accusing each other of being at fault for this unescapable cold of the harsh winter. And with that, eventually the skeleton kingdom found itself buried in the snow.”
“The few that lived now, found themselves slaves to the ice. By this time, they could not find a way to rid themselves of their skins either. The flesh had found roots in their bones now, and were an eternal part of them.”
“Every summer they lived in peace, but that was only before. Now, with summers, they found themselves preparing themselves for the winter, and with the winters, they prayed for the summer’s return.”
“They had tried to get their king back, readying themselves for heavy and heartfelt words of apologies, and for the punishment that might follow. Yet, the living tower had been darkened and withered by the icy winds of winter, and they king lay trapped on this tower of rot.”
“And so, with heavy hearts, the skeletons finally accepted their fate of agony and hardship, and are now subjects of the winter.”
My mother stood up straight, looking down on me as she smiled warmly, thinking I had fallen into a deep slumber, as she cautiously paced in a gentle manner to the door, and gently shut it, leaving only a tiny sliver of light seeping into my room.
Sleep hadn’t taken me yet, and I opened my eyes, to the dark room. The tiny amount of light that the door allowed in formed a line on the font wall of the room, vertically reaching from the top of the window to the floor.
I had made sure the windows had been kept covered by the blinders as tight as possible, so that I couldn’t accidentally find myself looking out of it. Or anything accidentally looking in.
I shivered at the thought.
When I was seven years old, my mother had been in the hospital, giving birth to my sister, and I had been staying with my aunt Greta at the time. I had been watching T.V. late at night; Aunt Greta didn’t care much about me going to sleep at the time my parents had set for me. But she herself, exhausted, and possibly maybe even slightly drunk, had found rest on the couch, sitting next to me, while the television flickered with various colours, illuminating her skin, edging towards the moment a light bright enough would jerk her out of her sleep. Aunt Greta won that battle, and managed to keep her sleep. But not me, I was on the loosing side, and sleep had finally begun to tug at me.
I tried distracting myself my shaking my head, and then looking around the room. That’s when I made the grave mistake of looking at the front window next to the staircase in the living room.
Two eyes stared back at me, shining white with a touch of red in them. A demonic horned outline stood out, sinisterly grabbing hold of my gaze with the hellish stare it had locked me into.
I don’t remember the exact moment I let go, but my aunt was there to comfort me, calming me down, and the thing outside the window just stood still, flinching a little.
“It’s just a cat!” Aunt Greta said comfortingly, yet slightly irritated; shooing the horrid thing away by tapping the window lightly. It pounced through the window and out of my sight.
Innocent as that encounter had been all those years ago, it had instilled in me a heavy fear of cats and looking through windows in the dark of the night.
Yet tonight, I felt a different kind of heaviness. One that came with feelings of gloom and sadness. The story my mom told me about the skeletons was not a stranger to me. Yet, it was one story I could not find myself to bear. I felt like an idiot, asking to hear that story again. My mom had told it to me a few months back, and I felt the same melancholia back then. I felt that I had grown stronger within to be able to bare that dark tale again, yet, I had only found myself feeling bad about the skeletons. Even a tiny bit of guilt for keeping their suffering alive by asking that tale to be spoken again.
I had pretended to fall asleep in hopes of my mother leaving the story undone, and walking out alone, leaving me to face only my silly fear of the dark, and not this heavy air of sadness that had been left behind.
What was the point of that story? I asked myself. There was no moral attached, not a wholesome outcome. It was a story that tied an iron chain around my tiny eleven-year-old heart, and tossed it on the bottom of a river. I still feel the same way after all these years anyway.
And the way she would tell it, it made the whole experience even more depressing. So vivid, and indifferent her narration was, it was unsettling.
But thankfully, that night was not a snowy night. It was not even winter yet. The night was a rainy one.
There was no storm, not like I would have minded that anyway, but it was a calm, gentle rain with distant soothing rumble of thunder.
I closed my eyes to sleep through the gloom I felt, but the moment I did, images of skeletons building a tower of extracted skin and blood, and dancing to the moonlight filled the darkness.
I tried to think of other things, but the skeletons had already wrapped their body fingers all around my imagination.
I didn’t want to open my eyes and look around (and seeing risk the blinders on the window somehow opened), so I buried myself in the covers, and shut my eyes. My main concern was to just get to fall asleep somehow.
Slowly, I opened my eyes,
Just a tiny peek. Just a tiny peak and nothing would go wrong.
I looked out the covers, and scanned the room. The tiny line of light was gone. My mom had probably already gone to sleep.
My eyes then moved a slightly left, to the drawer, the pile of unread books on top of it, and then…. the window.
Nope!
I got of the covers, and ran to the door, all the while imagining eyes of that horrid thing in the window, I saw all those years ago following me.
I shut the door behind me, and decided to sneak to my parents’ room. I knew I wasn’t supposed to sneak out this way, my mom had a strict bedroom curfew at 9:00 p.m. for us kids. Of course, she would send us to bed earlier, but it was pretty clear she did not want us out of our rooms after nine.
But tonight, she had told me that story again, and hearing that led to a series of events that had led me to loose all of my bravery.
The rain did provide some comfort to me, calming and soft it was, I still dared not look at any windows of the hall.
Shielding half my field of vision by cupping my palm around my right eye, I went across the hall. The faint creaks of the wooden flooring making me painfully aware of my loneliness in the now dark hallway.
There was a corner up front, the left of which were some stairs leading down to the living room, and right of the corner, in a distance worth just a tiny few step was a turn, which led to the door to my parents’ bedroom, and the bathroom.
Now here, I stood still for a moment. I was trying to peak into the corner, and at the same time, trying to focus elsewhere.
If I wasn’t fast enough, something would come out of that corner, and grab me. There was so much darkness in that corner, it almost looked like a dark cloaked man sat there, concealing himself into that place with slow and even breaths.
The dark cloaked man breathed the light in and exhaled the dark. He was darkness itself. If I wasn’t quick enough, he would grab me with those long tendrils of his, and swallow me whole.
A rumble of thunder came, but not before a flash of lightning, lifting the veil of the dark from that corner, revealing… absolutely nothing. No cloaked men, no skeletons. But as soon as the light went away, I saw something there.
It was just for a tiny moment, but I swear I saw a big crawling mass of darkness. It was alive, and moving, with a thousand, or millions of appendeges, tendrils or even legs. Like a spider, or a squid, or some grotesque insect from the deep.
And when the thunder followed this time, it didn’t feel like the soothing, calming touch of my mother’s hands either; rather, it felt like a witch’s cackle, loud and hideous! Piercing through my soul and getting ever closer. A cackle from the depths of a throat with crawling maggots and rotting skin.
I bolted as fast as I can, almost tripping on my own feet, and somehow, I reached the room, and burst right through it. It was unlocked, and there I looked around in the dark, scanning frantically for my mother’s presence.
And there, standing in the dark, in front of the mirror stood someone. Hoping it was my mom, I tried to make out its features, but my heart was also infested with fear and I felt it clawing at my chest, pleading to be let out.
It was as tall as my mother, and was built like a woman. Yet…it was, naked. I could make the outline of bare, sagging breasts. Lighting struck again, this time bringing light to the entire room, and the thunder screamed a blood curdling scream as I saw the figure for what it was. The wrinkled, leathery and aged skin, along with a barren scalp. It’s lip, twisted and the jaws shut so closely, indicating a lack of teeth.
The naked old woman opened her mouth to say a few words, but I felt the world go dim around me, with a bright flash of light, before I was plunged into complete darkness.
Danny? Dan? Yeah…he’s opening his eyes…
The sound of my dad’s voice was the rope I pulled on to come out of my darkness, and I woke up with a jump.
My mother came up to the bed and wrapped her arms around me.
“I was so worried about you!” She said. “How are you feeling baby?”
Her arms around mine, I checked her for wrinkles, and suddenly feeling a bit stupid I turned a bit red.
My dad let out a laugh and punched me in the arm softly, and stood up, rubbing his bald head.
“I told you he’s a strong one. Aren’t you?”
I gave a hesitant nod.
My mother put her hands on my shoulders, sat back and looked me in the eye.
“Now, tell me what happened child. And tell me everything. It’s alright baby, mommy and daddy are here.”
I misliked the way she seemed to baby me, but I did not think to complain.
I looked at the window, the sun was rising up, and the sky seemed clear.
“Well I-“
I remembered what I saw the night before. The crawling mass of darkness, and the naked old lady.
It’s silly now that I think of it, but at that time, I was too embarrassed to tell my
parents that I saw a naked old woman, “NAKED” old woman in our house.
“I just had a bad dream… and I got scared.”
My mom stood up. Telling me words of comfort that were meaningless to me, and walked out, holding my sister’s hand and walking out the room downstairs.
“Dad.” I told my dad as he came down to sit next to me. “I think I want to sleep a bit.”
My dad nodded, “Do you want mom?” He asked me.
I refused and shut my eyes. I was too sleepy to care or think much.
I brushed the old lady off as a bad dream, and nothing more…during the day. At night, as much as I didn’t want to, I believed with all certainty that it was real. Our house was haunted by an old lady’s ghost. I had been sleepless the first few nights, even though I had mom next to me for three days. I kept a lookout at times, peeking out the sheets to see if the old lady had come back (making sure the blinds were shut first), but I didn’t see her.
A few weeks passed and I figured it was just a bad dream, and a year or two later, I pushed it in the rear end of my mind.
It was winter, and the first batch of snow had made its way to my hometown. Flecks of snow buried themselves in my hair, and their cousins and made their place on the ground, forming a white path home.
My sister and I usually walked home from school together. I usually was on my own while my sister talked to one of her friends, I didn’t really know any of them. She and I had never been close, and during school, we drifted apart even more.
She was in middle school, and she already knew what an enormous looser I was. I used to sneak out the school from the back, as to avoid Zackary Levitt and his “Henchmen”.
They never put a hand on me; and that’s how they got away with it. I felt ashamed, unable to stand up to them. Their words bit into me like rows of sharpened teeth.
The trouble began when a white cat had found itself in front of the school, and it got too close to me, and I cried because it kept hissing at me. A lot of people happened to see that. A lot.
Zachary rode past us in one of his friend’s car. I averted my eyes so as to not attract any attention, but the more I tried to look away, the surer my chances of being harassed were.
One of them poked their head out the window, making hissing sounds. That wasn’t so bad, but then I saw my sister and her friend turn back to look at me, and they chuckled a bit.
That hurt me even worse.
That encouraged them even more. They slowed the car a bit, now all of them started meowing and hissing at me while my sister and her friend looked straight ahead, probably trying to conceal their broad grins.
In my mind, I hid in a shell like a turtle, only hearing faint echoes of their taunts. Every time I got mad enough and yelled a few colourful words of my own, they pulled their fists, ready for a fight, and the scrawny, skinny kid I was, I thought it wiser to back away.
I never cried myself to sleep. I didn’t even think about it all that much to be honest. It had become such a normal occurrence; I didn’t feel much about it.
At nights, I stayed awake, staring up to the ceiling. The only source of light in the room was the tiny sliver that creeped in from outside, as my mom stayed up much later.
The blinds as usual, had to remain shut. My fear of cats and windows were the only two things I carried, other than my shame and constant feeling of emptiness. I didn’t care I didn’t have many friends, nor did I care much about school or anything… what I cared about was, seeing through this gloomy fog that surrounded me.
Knock
The sound of my door creaking open made me sit up.
“Happy birthday to you!” My mom sang, holding up a metal tray.
My sister and my dad followed behind, turning the lights on and mom sat in front of me on the bed, placing a tiny chocolate cupcake with a skinny red candle on it, right next to me.
I looked at the clock, it had struck 12.
I put on a smile, and accepted mom’s embrace. I still remember it vividly. She wore no perfume, yet she had a soothing motherly scent to her. Her arms were skinny, and yet she had a firm hold of me. The fabric of her sleeves felt slightly rough on my neck but I didn’t care.
She planted a kiss on my cheek.
“You’re a man now son!” My dad said. He still wore his uniform. He probably got the cake while patrolling, and he would probably have to go back to patrolling after this.
“Eighteen years!” Mom said smiling, “I can’t believe I’m that old now!” She laughed a bit, “Ellen, wish your brother!”
Ellen came to me, giving a forced, loose hug and wishing me awkwardly and moving next to mom.
“You know the rules…. You get the big cake tomorrow… and the gifts too.” Mom said.
“Well…” Dad cut in, adding to this playful act they put up, “Maybe except this.”
My dad handed me a white, unmarked box.
“Open it!” He said with a grin.
A lamp. A lamp that gave off a blue light. Nice.
“Well it isn’t much, but like your mom said, you get the real gifts tomorrow. We have to keep it exciting you know…” My dad gave me a wink. “But…I figured you’d probably have more use of this thing tonight.”
I thanked all of them, and they eventually departed for the night.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I was trying to get myself excited for tomorrow, but I felt nothing but emptiness. I felt like the best of my life had been over sometimes, and tonight was one of those times.
I flicked the light on, giving the room a blue tint, and creating a million shadows with the dim nightlight. And then turned it off, sending the room back into the darkness. It was better this way. The shadows formed strange shapes that I didn’t not want to see. Yet my thumb decided to flick the switch, creating an army of shadows in the room once more. And so, it went for a long while.
Tomorrow was Sunday, so I could stay up a bit later. My own room had begun to make me uncomfortable, so I decided to go downstairs and watch some T.V. Lamp in hand, I left the room.
I walked straight to the hall. The window tapped slightly as tiny snowflakes touched it on their way down, and yet, I could not bring myself to look that way. Like I said, the fear was one of the things I carried with me.
The bathroom lights were on, my mom was in there, her bedroom door was wide open. She sang a soft tune in the bathroom, and it just confirmed her presence in there. I would never forget that tune. It sounded like something old and gloomy. It provoked strange imagery in my mind, but only vague shapes that I couldn’t place. Coupled with the winter winds outside, it would form almost a haunting scenery.
The dark corner was still there, the light from the closed bathroom had not reached far enough. I was peeking at me, threating to show me horrid things in itself. Thankfully, I had the lamp in my hand for that. The light my mom and dad had given me, and I flicked it on, sending all terrible entities in the dark fleeing away and leaving behind an innocent corner.
I went down the stairs and to the living room, and watched 10 minutes of mindless television and my eyes began to get drowsy. Turning it off, I went back upstairs, readying myself for the sweet hold of a restful sleep.
I took the final step, looking down to flick the light on to scare the darkness in the corner away, and when I did, the blue light fell on the aged and wrinkled skin of a naked old woman.
I froze in fear. The light held still in my hands. The woman walked, straight past my parents’ bedroom, which was still wide open and in complete darkness, and to the bathroom.
I hear no singing from my mother, no sounds at all except the splashing of water. I stood there frozen. Blue light my only company, while that thing went inside with my mother.
The splashing grew intense, and yet, all I could do was stand still, my eyes wide open and my jaws clung tightly together. I was afraid. But, so afraid, I didn’t feel it. I became it. My body had forgotten it’s own self, and decided to accept whatever horrid end it awaited.
Splish. Splash.
I pictured nothing. It was just the of splashing water to me, nothing more. But I knew there was something far more sinister at hand. I awaited my consciousness to leave, and go far away from me, and yet, it stayed with me, holding my head firmly and making me experience the dreadful reality.
The light of the corner eventually faded, and I remember watching my dad banging at the bathroom door, while my sister stood crying in the corner. My dad yelled too but they were distant, and faint to me. I was trapped within my own shell of fear.
My dad kicked the door down, and there we found her. She lay still in the bathtub, now just a sack of pruned meat and not the person I remember as mom. Just flesh and bones. Flesh….and bones…
And then I realised the irony of it, and it seemed morbidly funny and I let out a slight chuckle. My lips quivered, not knowing whether to laugh or to mourn. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I fell on the floor, my throat threatening to tear as I cycled between crying and laughing, and crying and laughing and then … just weeping.
Mom was dead. And it was my fault as well. I should’ve entered. I could’ve helped her. If it wasn’t for my stupid fucking fears.
I ate my birthday cake while my dad spoke to other officers who’d come during the morning hours. His eyes had been bloodshot read, and it seemed like he was done crying, yet, he sat, putting on a strong face.
My dad helped me dress up for the funeral, I was in shock since her passing, and I barely spoke or got anywhere on my own.
On our way, watching the snowy winter land that our hometown was now transformed to, I remembered the old lady. I hadn’t told anyone about that. How could I? It had been just a nightmare, right? And even if it wasn’t, was I to tell them that I let a ghost drown my mother in a bathtub, even though the cause had been as an accident?
I embraced myself, the funeral was going to be hard on me, but I had to face it.
After walking through the few early arrivals, my grandparents and some uncles (all from my father’s side), I stood next to my dad, but my sister wanted to have some time alone with mother, so dad let her go first, silently patting her on the shoulder.
I stood next to him, hearing him talk in whispers as I saw down to the ground. I looked at the entrance of the church, turning my head away from the grim atmosphere, and there, I saw the outline of a person, a woman. I tried to make out which aunt or neighbour she was, but then she just walked out in a hurry.
I chalked it up to an honest mistake, and began to turn back, just when I heard my sister scream. I froze up for a moment, but I decided to fight through this time, following after my dad and his elder brother as they ran into the room.
My uncle reached first, and I slowed my pace seeing she was okay, he knelt down to my sister and exchanging a few words, before she pointed to my mother’s casket. He stood up abruptly as he saw within and shielded my sister’s eyes as well.
My dad looked into it, and gasped, covering his mouth with his roughened hands, and turned away.
My stomach began to drop, as I got closer, expecting the worst. I looked within.
She was completely naked. The dark gown she was supposed to be clad in was gone. A large cut had been made in her back, and blood, it was clean and dry. Mom no longer even looked like mom. I came to a horrible realisation, as the contents of my stomach began to rise up to my throat.
All that was left of her, was flesh and blood.
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2020.10.18 17:46 cleanyourbedroomboy Skeletons Of Winter Part I

“Once upon a time, in a cold, dark land, there was a king who lived on tall mountains of ice. A king without a castle, who sat on a throne of blood and skin; from the top of his mountain, he watched over his kingdom of skeletons; roaring loudly for his subject skeletons on the arrival of winter, cautioning them of the impending icy winds.”
“The skeleton kingdom was home to all kinds of skeletons. Tall skeletons, short skeletons, fat skeletons and thin skeletons, old skeletons and younger, fresher skeletons.”
“When they were old enough, a skeleton started to grow skin, or had blood flowing through its body. Every time that happened, they would go to the king, and bow in front of him”
““My lord of flesh and blood” A skeleton would say, “Here I give to you a humble offering, so you may make it one with your throne.” And with that, the skeleton would offer the king all the flesh and blood it had, and the king would find a place of it on his throne.”
“Every day, offers were made, and the throne grew bigger and bigger, taller and taller, fatter and fatter, and the king went up higher and higher.”
“More and more skeletons would come in every day and every night, and they would keep giving more and more flesh and blood to the king’s chair.”
“The king’s throne eventually grew so tall; his voice became faint, and soft to the ones who stood below. But the skeletons did not stop; like obedient subjects, they making their humble contributions to the throne.”
“Every day they added.”
“And every night they added.”
““My lord I come to offer you more of my own flesh and blood, and I hope my humble gives more strength to your throne.”, and in reply, they heard just a distant mumble from high up.”
“The throne eventually went so up high, the throne became a living tower, covered in flesh, with veins of blood flowing through it. If you were still enough, a faint heartbeat could be heard from within the tower.”
“The tower went so high up, the skeletons believed that it might have pierced through the skies.”
“One day, a skeleton bowed in front of the tower. Fresh blood dripping from his bony white hands, and a handful of extracted flesh tied neatly with ropes on his back. After his words of offering, he stood up, waiting for the king’s reply. And he waited, and waited. Not a sound. He said his words a second time. He was yet again, met with silence.”
“And then he looked up, to the vast throne he and his fellow skeletons had built, and on top of it…he froze. He could not locate the top.”
“He felt like a sailor on a boat, trapped in the still, windless of the ocean of time. A few moments felt like ages in this uncertain stillness he found himself in. And then, like a gentle breeze of hopeful wind, his skull was kissed by the dropping snow.”
“He waited for the king’s roar, knowing full well that it may never come. The king was lost in the skies.”
“The skeletons rejoiced that day. They had finally gotten themselves rid of the fleshed king that ruled over this land of bones. They had found freedom,”
“The skeletons sang all day. And they sang all night. They danced till their bones came apart, and fell on the icy terrain below; but they put it back together and danced some more.”
“They sang wildly while the moon watched silently. They continued their songs even when the moon had hidden under the blankets of a sunless winter day.”
“And as time went on, the skeletons had found themselves used to this life without a leader, and lived life free and happy.”
“Eventually, their skins began to grow back, and blood began to flow into their veins.”
“The snowfall never stopped. And the winds grew ever colder. And with the growth of their skins, the cold finally touched them. But the cold was not so gentle. It was a fierce, with icy teeth, aimed on their skins. Wanting to bite through their skins, and freeze their blood. And bite it did.”
“The skeletons had never felt the cold before. They had no understanding of it. But with the growth of their skins, they felt the harsh cold for the first time. And with this new agony, they had to live.”
“The old ones died first. And then the youngest ones found themselves frozen in the cold.”
“The skeletons fought against each other, accusing each other of being at fault for this unescapable cold of the harsh winter. And with that, eventually the skeleton kingdom found itself buried in the snow.”
“The few that lived now, found themselves slaves to the ice. By this time, they could not find a way to rid themselves of their skins either. The flesh had found roots in their bones now, and were an eternal part of them.”
“Every summer they lived in peace, but that was only before. Now, with summers, they found themselves preparing themselves for the winter, and with the winters, they prayed for the summer’s return.”
“They had tried to get their king back, readying themselves for heavy and heartfelt words of apologies, and for the punishment that might follow. Yet, the living tower had been darkened and withered by the icy winds of winter, and they king lay trapped on this tower of rot.”
“And so, with heavy hearts, the skeletons finally accepted their fate of agony and hardship, and are now subjects of the winter.”
My mother stood up straight, looking down on me as she smiled warmly, thinking I had fallen into a deep slumber, as she cautiously paced in a gentle manner to the door, and gently shut it, leaving only a tiny sliver of light seeping into my room.
Sleep hadn’t taken me yet, and I opened my eyes, to the dark room. The tiny amount of light that the door allowed in formed a line on the font wall of the room, vertically reaching from the top of the window to the floor.
I had made sure the windows had been kept covered by the blinders as tight as possible, so that I couldn’t accidentally find myself looking out of it. Or anything accidentally looking in.
I shivered at the thought.
When I was seven years old, my mother had been in the hospital, giving birth to my sister, and I had been staying with my aunt Greta at the time. I had been watching T.V. late at night; Aunt Greta didn’t care much about me going to sleep at the time my parents had set for me. But she herself, exhausted, and possibly maybe even slightly drunk, had found rest on the couch, sitting next to me, while the television flickered with various colours, illuminating her skin, edging towards the moment a light bright enough would jerk her out of her sleep. Aunt Greta won that battle, and managed to keep her sleep. But not me, I was on the loosing side, and sleep had finally begun to tug at me.
I tried distracting myself my shaking my head, and then looking around the room. That’s when I made the grave mistake of looking at the front window next to the staircase in the living room.
Two eyes stared back at me, shining white with a touch of red in them. A demonic horned outline stood out, sinisterly grabbing hold of my gaze with the hellish stare it had locked me into.
I don’t remember the exact moment I let go, but my aunt was there to comfort me, calming me down, and the thing outside the window just stood still, flinching a little.
“It’s just a cat!” Aunt Greta said comfortingly, yet slightly irritated; shooing the horrid thing away by tapping the window lightly. It pounced through the window and out of my sight.
Innocent as that encounter had been all those years ago, it had instilled in me a heavy fear of cats and looking through windows in the dark of the night.
Yet tonight, I felt a different kind of heaviness. One that came with feelings of gloom and sadness. The story my mom told me about the skeletons was not a stranger to me. Yet, it was one story I could not find myself to bear. I felt like an idiot, asking to hear that story again. My mom had told it to me a few months back, and I felt the same melancholia back then. I felt that I had grown stronger within to be able to bare that dark tale again, yet, I had only found myself feeling bad about the skeletons. Even a tiny bit of guilt for keeping their suffering alive by asking that tale to be spoken again.
I had pretended to fall asleep in hopes of my mother leaving the story undone, and walking out alone, leaving me to face only my silly fear of the dark, and not this heavy air of sadness that had been left behind.
What was the point of that story? I asked myself. There was no moral attached, not a wholesome outcome. It was a story that tied an iron chain around my tiny eleven-year-old heart, and tossed it on the bottom of a river. I still feel the same way after all these years anyway.
And the way she would tell it, it made the whole experience even more depressing. So vivid, and indifferent her narration was, it was unsettling.
But thankfully, that night was not a snowy night. It was not even winter yet. The night was a rainy one.
There was no storm, not like I would have minded that anyway, but it was a calm, gentle rain with distant soothing rumble of thunder.
I closed my eyes to sleep through the gloom I felt, but the moment I did, images of skeletons building a tower of extracted skin and blood, and dancing to the moonlight filled the darkness.
I tried to think of other things, but the skeletons had already wrapped their body fingers all around my imagination.
I didn’t want to open my eyes and look around (and seeing risk the blinders on the window somehow opened), so I buried myself in the covers, and shut my eyes. My main concern was to just get to fall asleep somehow.
Slowly, I opened my eyes,
Just a tiny peek. Just a tiny peak and nothing would go wrong.
I looked out the covers, and scanned the room. The tiny line of light was gone. My mom had probably already gone to sleep.
My eyes then moved a slightly left, to the drawer, the pile of unread books on top of it, and then…. the window.
Nope!
I got of the covers, and ran to the door, all the while imagining eyes of that horrid thing in the window, I saw all those years ago following me.
I shut the door behind me, and decided to sneak to my parents’ room. I knew I wasn’t supposed to sneak out this way, my mom had a strict bedroom curfew at 9:00 p.m. for us kids. Of course, she would send us to bed earlier, but it was pretty clear she did not want us out of our rooms after nine.
But tonight, she had told me that story again, and hearing that led to a series of events that had led me to loose all of my bravery.
The rain did provide some comfort to me, calming and soft it was, I still dared not look at any windows of the hall.
Shielding half my field of vision by cupping my palm around my right eye, I went across the hall. The faint creaks of the wooden flooring making me painfully aware of my loneliness in the now dark hallway.
There was a corner up front, the left of which were some stairs leading down to the living room, and right of the corner, in a distance worth just a tiny few step was a turn, which led to the door to my parents’ bedroom, and the bathroom.
Now here, I stood still for a moment. I was trying to peak into the corner, and at the same time, trying to focus elsewhere.
If I wasn’t fast enough, something would come out of that corner, and grab me. There was so much darkness in that corner, it almost looked like a dark cloaked man sat there, concealing himself into that place with slow and even breaths.
The dark cloaked man breathed the light in and exhaled the dark. He was darkness itself. If I wasn’t quick enough, he would grab me with those long tendrils of his, and swallow me whole.
A rumble of thunder came, but not before a flash of lightning, lifting the veil of the dark from that corner, revealing… absolutely nothing. No cloaked men, no skeletons. But as soon as the light went away, I saw something there.
It was just for a tiny moment, but I swear I saw a big crawling mass of darkness. It was alive, and moving, with a thousand, or millions of appendeges, tendrils or even legs. Like a spider, or a squid, or some grotesque insect from the deep.
And when the thunder followed this time, it didn’t feel like the soothing, calming touch of my mother’s hands either; rather, it felt like a witch’s cackle, loud and hideous! Piercing through my soul and getting ever closer. A cackle from the depths of a throat with crawling maggots and rotting skin.
I bolted as fast as I can, almost tripping on my own feet, and somehow, I reached the room, and burst right through it. It was unlocked, and there I looked around in the dark, scanning frantically for my mother’s presence.
And there, standing in the dark, in front of the mirror stood someone. Hoping it was my mom, I tried to make out its features, but my heart was also infested with fear and I felt it clawing at my chest, pleading to be let out.
It was as tall as my mother, and was built like a woman. Yet…it was, naked. I could make the outline of bare, sagging breasts. Lighting struck again, this time bringing light to the entire room, and the thunder screamed a blood curdling scream as I saw the figure for what it was. The wrinkled, leathery and aged skin, along with a barren scalp. It’s lip, twisted and the jaws shut so closely, indicating a lack of teeth.
The naked old woman opened her mouth to say a few words, but I felt the world go dim around me, with a bright flash of light, before I was plunged into complete darkness.
Danny? Dan? Yeah…he’s opening his eyes…
The sound of my dad’s voice was the rope I pulled on to come out of my darkness, and I woke up with a jump.
My mother came up to the bed and wrapped her arms around me.
“I was so worried about you!” She said. “How are you feeling baby?”
Her arms around mine, I checked her for wrinkles, and suddenly feeling a bit stupid I turned a bit red.
My dad let out a laugh and punched me in the arm softly, and stood up, rubbing his bald head.
“I told you he’s a strong one. Aren’t you?”
I gave a hesitant nod.
My mother put her hands on my shoulders, sat back and looked me in the eye.
“Now, tell me what happened child. And tell me everything. It’s alright baby, mommy and daddy are here.”
I misliked the way she seemed to baby me, but I did not think to complain.
I looked at the window, the sun was rising up, and the sky seemed clear.
“Well I-“
I remembered what I saw the night before. The crawling mass of darkness, and the naked old lady.
It’s silly now that I think of it, but at that time, I was too embarrassed to tell my
parents that I saw a naked old woman, “NAKED” old woman in our house.
“I just had a bad dream… and I got scared.”
My mom stood up. Telling me words of comfort that were meaningless to me, and walked out, holding my sister’s hand and walking out the room downstairs.
“Dad.” I told my dad as he came down to sit next to me. “I think I want to sleep a bit.”
My dad nodded, “Do you want mom?” He asked me.
I refused and shut my eyes. I was too sleepy to care or think much.
I brushed the old lady off as a bad dream, and nothing more…during the day. At night, as much as I didn’t want to, I believed with all certainty that it was real. Our house was haunted by an old lady’s ghost. I had been sleepless the first few nights, even though I had mom next to me for three days. I kept a lookout at times, peeking out the sheets to see if the old lady had come back (making sure the blinds were shut first), but I didn’t see her.
A few weeks passed and I figured it was just a bad dream, and a year or two later, I pushed it in the rear end of my mind.
It was winter, and the first batch of snow had made its way to my hometown. Flecks of snow buried themselves in my hair, and their cousins and made their place on the ground, forming a white path home.
My sister and I usually walked home from school together. I usually was on my own while my sister talked to one of her friends, I didn’t really know any of them. She and I had never been close, and during school, we drifted apart even more.
She was in middle school, and she already knew what an enormous looser I was. I used to sneak out the school from the back, as to avoid Zackary Levitt and his “Henchmen”.
They never put a hand on me; and that’s how they got away with it. I felt ashamed, unable to stand up to them. Their words bit into me like rows of sharpened teeth.
The trouble began when a white cat had found itself in front of the school, and it got too close to me, and I cried because it kept hissing at me. A lot of people happened to see that. A lot.
Zachary rode past us in one of his friend’s car. I averted my eyes so as to not attract any attention, but the more I tried to look away, the surer my chances of being harassed were.
One of them poked their head out the window, making hissing sounds. That wasn’t so bad, but then I saw my sister and her friend turn back to look at me, and they chuckled a bit.
That hurt me even worse.
That encouraged them even more. They slowed the car a bit, now all of them started meowing and hissing at me while my sister and her friend looked straight ahead, probably trying to conceal their broad grins.
In my mind, I hid in a shell like a turtle, only hearing faint echoes of their taunts. Every time I got mad enough and yelled a few colourful words of my own, they pulled their fists, ready for a fight, and the scrawny, skinny kid I was, I thought it wiser to back away.
I never cried myself to sleep. I didn’t even think about it all that much to be honest. It had become such a normal occurrence; I didn’t feel much about it.
At nights, I stayed awake, staring up to the ceiling. The only source of light in the room was the tiny sliver that creeped in from outside, as my mom stayed up much later.
The blinds as usual, had to remain shut. My fear of cats and windows were the only two things I carried, other than my shame and constant feeling of emptiness. I didn’t care I didn’t have many friends, nor did I care much about school or anything… what I cared about was, seeing through this gloomy fog that surrounded me.
Knock
The sound of my door creaking open made me sit up.
“Happy birthday to you!” My mom sang, holding up a metal tray.
My sister and my dad followed behind, turning the lights on and mom sat in front of me on the bed, placing a tiny chocolate cupcake with a skinny red candle on it, right next to me.
I looked at the clock, it had struck 12.
I put on a smile, and accepted mom’s embrace. I still remember it vividly. She wore no perfume, yet she had a soothing motherly scent to her. Her arms were skinny, and yet she had a firm hold of me. The fabric of her sleeves felt slightly rough on my neck but I didn’t care.
She planted a kiss on my cheek.
“You’re a man now son!” My dad said. He still wore his uniform. He probably got the cake while patrolling, and he would probably have to go back to patrolling after this.
“Eighteen years!” Mom said smiling, “I can’t believe I’m that old now!” She laughed a bit, “Ellen, wish your brother!”
Ellen came to me, giving a forced, loose hug and wishing me awkwardly and moving next to mom.
“You know the rules…. You get the big cake tomorrow… and the gifts too.” Mom said.
“Well…” Dad cut in, adding to this playful act they put up, “Maybe except this.”
My dad handed me a white, unmarked box.
“Open it!” He said with a grin.
A lamp. A lamp that gave off a blue light. Nice.
“Well it isn’t much, but like your mom said, you get the real gifts tomorrow. We have to keep it exciting you know…” My dad gave me a wink. “But…I figured you’d probably have more use of this thing tonight.”
I thanked all of them, and they eventually departed for the night.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I was trying to get myself excited for tomorrow, but I felt nothing but emptiness. I felt like the best of my life had been over sometimes, and tonight was one of those times.
I flicked the light on, giving the room a blue tint, and creating a million shadows with the dim nightlight. And then turned it off, sending the room back into the darkness. It was better this way. The shadows formed strange shapes that I didn’t not want to see. Yet my thumb decided to flick the switch, creating an army of shadows in the room once more. And so, it went for a long while.
Tomorrow was Sunday, so I could stay up a bit later. My own room had begun to make me uncomfortable, so I decided to go downstairs and watch some T.V. Lamp in hand, I left the room.
I walked straight to the hall. The window tapped slightly as tiny snowflakes touched it on their way down, and yet, I could not bring myself to look that way. Like I said, the fear was one of the things I carried with me.
The bathroom lights were on, my mom was in there, her bedroom door was wide open. She sang a soft tune in the bathroom, and it just confirmed her presence in there. I would never forget that tune. It sounded like something old and gloomy. It provoked strange imagery in my mind, but only vague shapes that I couldn’t place. Coupled with the winter winds outside, it would form almost a haunting scenery.
The dark corner was still there, the light from the closed bathroom had not reached far enough. I was peeking at me, threating to show me horrid things in itself. Thankfully, I had the lamp in my hand for that. The light my mom and dad had given me, and I flicked it on, sending all terrible entities in the dark fleeing away and leaving behind an innocent corner.
I went down the stairs and to the living room, and watched 10 minutes of mindless television and my eyes began to get drowsy. Turning it off, I went back upstairs, readying myself for the sweet hold of a restful sleep.
I took the final step, looking down to flick the light on to scare the darkness in the corner away, and when I did, the blue light fell on the aged and wrinkled skin of a naked old woman.
I froze in fear. The light held still in my hands. The woman walked, straight past my parents’ bedroom, which was still wide open and in complete darkness, and to the bathroom.
I hear no singing from my mother, no sounds at all except the splashing of water. I stood there frozen. Blue light my only company, while that thing went inside with my mother.
The splashing grew intense, and yet, all I could do was stand still, my eyes wide open and my jaws clung tightly together. I was afraid. But, so afraid, I didn’t feel it. I became it. My body had forgotten it’s own self, and decided to accept whatever horrid end it awaited.
Splish. Splash.
I pictured nothing. It was just the of splashing water to me, nothing more. But I knew there was something far more sinister at hand. I awaited my consciousness to leave, and go far away from me, and yet, it stayed with me, holding my head firmly and making me experience the dreadful reality.
The light of the corner eventually faded, and I remember watching my dad banging at the bathroom door, while my sister stood crying in the corner. My dad yelled too but they were distant, and faint to me. I was trapped within my own shell of fear.
My dad kicked the door down, and there we found her. She lay still in the bathtub, now just a sack of pruned meat and not the person I remember as mom. Just flesh and bones. Flesh….and bones…
And then I realised the irony of it, and it seemed morbidly funny and I let out a slight chuckle. My lips quivered, not knowing whether to laugh or to mourn. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I fell on the floor, my throat threatening to tear as I cycled between crying and laughing, and crying and laughing and then … just weeping.
Mom was dead. And it was my fault as well. I should’ve entered. I could’ve helped her. If it wasn’t for my stupid fucking fears.
I ate my birthday cake while my dad spoke to other officers who’d come during the morning hours. His eyes had been bloodshot read, and it seemed like he was done crying, yet, he sat, putting on a strong face.
My dad helped me dress up for the funeral, I was in shock since her passing, and I barely spoke or got anywhere on my own.
On our way, watching the snowy winter land that our hometown was now transformed to, I remembered the old lady. I hadn’t told anyone about that. How could I? It had been just a nightmare, right? And even if it wasn’t, was I to tell them that I let a ghost drown my mother in a bathtub, even though the cause had been as an accident?
I embraced myself, the funeral was going to be hard on me, but I had to face it.
After walking through the few early arrivals, my grandparents and some uncles (all from my father’s side), I stood next to my dad, but my sister wanted to have some time alone with mother, so dad let her go first, silently patting her on the shoulder.
I stood next to him, hearing him talk in whispers as I saw down to the ground. I looked at the entrance of the church, turning my head away from the grim atmosphere, and there, I saw the outline of a person, a woman. I tried to make out which aunt or neighbour she was, but then she just walked out in a hurry.
I chalked it up to an honest mistake, and began to turn back, just when I heard my sister scream. I froze up for a moment, but I decided to fight through this time, following after my dad and his elder brother as they ran into the room.
My uncle reached first, and I slowed my pace seeing she was okay, he knelt down to my sister and exchanging a few words, before she pointed to my mother’s casket. He stood up abruptly as he saw within and shielded my sister’s eyes as well.
My dad looked into it, and gasped, covering his mouth with his roughened hands, and turned away.
My stomach began to drop, as I got closer, expecting the worst. I looked within.
She was completely naked. The dark gown she was supposed to be clad in was gone. A large cut had been made in her back, and blood, it was clean and dry. Mom no longer even looked like mom. I came to a horrible realisation, as the contents of my stomach began to rise up to my throat.
All that was left of her, was flesh and blood.
submitted by cleanyourbedroomboy to TheDarkGathering [link] [comments]


2020.10.18 02:17 Jrubas They Won't Let Go

What is evil?
Selfishness. Every evil act - every rape, hit, murder, genocide - springs from selfishess, from someone thinking only of themselves or of their tribe, someone giving into their perverted desires, someone wanting to make money or save themselves from embarrassment, woe, or death. Jesus Christ, the paragon of Good, was selfless and instructed His followers to be selfless as well. He died on a cross for other people’s sins. What’s more selfless than that?
Whether you believe in Him or not, the Gospel makes clear that He considered selflessness the ultimate good. Therefore, selfishness is the ultimate bad. When we all love and care for each other, the world is good. When we care only for ourselves, it is bad.
Evil exists.
I know because my grandparents are evil.
You wouldn’t know it by looking at them. They’re libreral, they recycle, they care about the planet and they believe in science. My father is a Republican and I grew up looking at Democrats as the bad guys, but even deep down, I admired my grandparents and thought, in my own half-formed way, that we should all strive to be like them.
They both grew up in the sixties and met at Woodstock. Grandma came from a middle class family that she rebelled against and Grandpa came from the wrong side of the tracks, a fact of which he was perversely proud. “I’m a real common man,” he would say with a grin. By the time I was fifteen in 2015, they were retired and living in a retirement community near Daytona Beach. In the summer of 2016, they invited me down to spend a few weeks with them.
I barely got to see them after they moved in 2010 and I jumped at the chance, especially since my father and I didn’t get along. Typical teenage rebellion stuff that looks stupid in hindsight. I took a plane to Daytona in early June and they met me at the airport. “Hey, there you are,” Grandpa said and pulled me into a hug. There was something different about them, something that bothered me for my first two days there, something that I just couldn’t place. There was a..a...a glow about them, and the twinkle in my grandfather’s eye was one of a much younger man. Maybe even someone my age - a randy and mischievous boy who hadn’t been worn down by fifty years of work, kids, and mortgage payments. With Grandma, the change was physical. She seemed...I don’t know...more lively, like a young girl in the bloom of youth. I figured I kind of aged them up in my mind and thought of them as older and slower than they really were. They weren’t that old, after all, and had never been in anything approaching poor health.
Their community - called Lamplighter - was a fifty-five and over trailer park in Port Orange near the South Daytona line. The trailers were all modern doublewides, well-maintained, and the yards were green and spacious. There was a club house at the front of the park featuring a room for events, a little gym, and a library. Next to it was a pool. The residents were all friendly and nice. My first day there, Grandma and Grandpa took me to a social event at the clubhouse and I was the star of the show; old men patted my back, old ladies pinched my cheek, it was kind of annoying but also nice. Girls might get compliments all the time, but guys really don’t, and it felt good to be the center of attention for a little bit.
The only downside was the handyman, Jeff. Close to fifty, he was slow and crept around the edge of the room like an attack dog, his eyes always on me, like a painting that follows you around no matter where you go. “He’s very protective of us,” Grandpa explained, “he’s sort of our bodyguard.” He laughed like that was the funniest thing ever. “Don’t worry about him.”
Grandma and Grandpa’s next door neighbor was a guy named Jim Anderson. He wore polo shirts, plaid shorts, black socks pulled up his hairy calves, and putzed around his yard all day long doing next to nothing. His granddaughter lived with him. Her name was Lindsey. I met her at the clubhouse one day when I was getting Grandma and Grandpa’s mail. I slammed the little door and turned, and there she was, on the same mission. She was a few inches shorter than me and thicc, for a lack of a better term - I can’t bring myself to call her pudgy even if, maybe, she was. Her long brown hair shimmered in the tropical sun and she had this little gap in her front teeth that I instantly thought of as cute. Not in a demeaning way, just…
I was attracted to her. I thought she was beautiful and the moment I saw her, my heart launched into my throat. She felt me staring and turned to look at me, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Uh...hey,” I said.
“Hey,” she replied cautiously.
“Kind of shocking to see someone around here who isn’t seventy.”
“I live with my grandpa.”
“Oh I’m visiting mine.” I shoved my hands nervously into the pockets of my hoodie and tried not to look like a dweeb. “I’m Kyle.”
“Lindsey,” she said and shut the mailbox.
We walked back together and made small talk. I was awkward and she was uncomfortable. Looking back at it now, I cringe, but I also smile.
Lindsey told me that her parents were killed in a car crash three years ago. She was a self-professed book worm and “old fashioned.” She liked the same music my grandparents did and had a real hard-on for the seventies and eighties. “I just love everything about them,” she gushed. Her face shone like a lamp, and, if possible, she was even more beautiful than she was before. “The clothes, the music, just...everything. It was so much better back then. I wish I had a time machine.”
Because she didn’t “connect” with our generation, Lindsey didn’t have many friends. “I’ve always gotten along better with older people.”
“So you’re one of them,” I said cheekily and nodded to an old woman in her yard.
Lindsey laughed. “I guess.”
She said that there were five teenagers in the community, all living with an older relative. They hung out at the clubhouse sometimes, sharing each other’s company because they were all they had in a place like this. She invited me to hang out with them, and two days later, we met at the pool. There was Lindsey, a black boy named Nathan, a white boy named Evan, a white girl named Cassidy, and an Asian boy named Tran who went by T. “I like to keep it fresh,” he told me with a big grin.
“Fresh as a dirty diaper,” Nathan said and rolled his eyes.
“You got me fucked up,” T said.
“Man, shut up,” Nathan said, “you sound so dumb. I thought y’all were supposed to be educated.”
“School of Pimpanomics Class of 2016,” T replied.
Evan snorted. “You wish.”
We hung out most of the day and when it was over, I decided that I liked them.
It didn’t last very long.
Three days later, T dropped out of sight. I went to his house and his grandparents said he moved in with an uncle in Iowa. There was something in their eyes that told me they weren’t being entirely honest.
I accepted their story anyway. I wish I hadn’t.
Me, Lindsey, and the others would walk around the trailer park together, just talking and goofing off, and after a while, I realized that every time we did, Jeff would pass in his old truck and glare at us, then follow us on foot, pretending to do other things but glowering at us like he expected us to do something wrong. I kind of got that even then - some teens do dumb shit - but the murder in his eyes creeped me out.
Did he do something to T?
Handyman Jeff...more like Jeff the Killer.
Heh.
In early July, Evan disappeared. Same thing. His grandparents said he moved away. Their eyes were red as though they’d been crying, and his grandmother’s voice trembled as she told me he was gone.
It felt like she was telling me he died.
The rest of us talked about it. Nathan agreed with me that something was wrong. Cassidy thought we were stupid. Lindsey just looked uncomfortable. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said. “Kids come and go here. You know that.”
“Yeah,” Nathan said, “a little too much.”
“Because they visit.”
“Not all of them,” Nathan pointed out. “How many kids have we known who moved away?”
Lindsey fell silent.
“He’s wrong,” she told me later. We were walking aimlessly along one of the twisting streets after dark, the humid light of the moon playing in her hair. “There’s nothing strange about it at all. He’s just paranoid.”
I didn’t notice the hint of desperation in her voice, I didn’t realize she was begging me to believe her.
If I had, I may have known she was lying to me.
“Maybe,” I said, “I don’t know.”
She stopped and looked at me, her eyes dark and mysterious. “Really. Don’t get caught up in some conspiracy stuff.”
We gazed into each other’s eyes, and slowly, like the moon pulling the tide, our lips met. She kissed me, her tongue light and timid, and I kissed her back, mine clumsy and overeager. She grabbed the front of my hoodie and pulled me closer, and I cupped her face in my hands. The kiss deepened and became more urgent, Her heart pounded against mine and I remember thinking She’s really into it. I was too dumb to realize that she was a lost soul, a stranger in a strange land who had always been alintated from other kids by her obsession with times gone by. I didn’t realize that deep down, she was sad and alone and on the outside looking in...that she was desperate for someone, a boy her own age, to understand her.
I just thought she liked me.
She pulled away from me and flashed a dreamy smile. “That was nice,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, the taste of her mouth like candy on my lips, “it was.”
I put my arm around her and we walked home.
The next day, I went over to Nathan’s house.
His grandfather, a stooped man in a baseball cap boasting the name of the company her served with in Vietnam, appeared at the door. “Is Nathan here?” I asked.
Even if I live to be a thousand, I’ll never forget the look of hatred that crossed his wizened face. His bushy eyebrows angled down in a deadly V and her puckered lips drew into a wild sneer. The venom in his expression struck me like a fist to the stomach and I stumbled back against the railing. “He’s not here,” he spat, “he went to visit his aunt.” His eyes hardened as he spoke and his lips puckered even more, as though the words were sour in his mouth.
“Oh...okay.”
He slammed the door, and even though it was almost ninety degrees, a shiver raced down my spine. I turned and froze.
Across the street, Jeff stood next to a bush in someone’s front yard, a pair of sheers at his side.
He was staring at me.
His expression was much like Nathan’s grandfather’s.
An old woman came out of her trailer and walked over to him. He turned to her, and the hate was gone, replaced by the look of a small puppy overjoyed to see its master. I took the opportunity to escape and made my way to the clubhouse. I found Lindsey and Cassidy sitting in the library. Lindsey smiled when she saw me, but it faded away at my pale-faced expression. I sat down across from them and stole a look around, crazily convinced that Jeff would be there, like a killer from a bad horror movie who can be anywhere he wants, anytime he wants to be there.
“Nathan’s gone,” I said.
I told them what happened, and the color drained from Cassidy’s face.
“Come on, guys,” Lindsey said, “it’s nothing. He only went to visit his aunt. He’s coming back.”
“Seems kind of strange that it just happened like this,” I said. “He didn’t even mention it.”
“That’s Nathan for you,” she said.
I was stupid and in love...so I listened to her. I trusted Lindsey over my own gut instinct and I accepted a lie, once again.
After Nathan disappeared, I didn’t see much of Cassidy. I spent most of my time with Lindsey. We would sit in the padded swing on her front porch talking and holding hands. When her grandfather wasn’t around, we touched and kissed. When he was around, she would show me music videos from the seventies and eighties on her phone. I didn’t really like any of it, but her face always lit up when the music started to play, and she would stare at the screen with a sly little smile. Mesmerized. That’s how she looked. With each video, she lost herself in a time that she never knew, a time that she fetishized and revered only the way someone who wasn’t really there can. For her, the eighties were a warm, fuzzy dream. Nothing bad happened there. It was perfect. It was paradise.
On July 25 - I can still remember every detail - Lindsey’s grandfather was away. She led me into her bedroom and we kissed on her bed until we were heady and drunk on one another. Our hands roamed and our bodies quaked with need.
She was never more beautiful than she was with her hair pooled around her head like a halo, and no woman has ever felt as right as Lindsey did. Someone, somewhere, said that your first time is always awful, but mine wasn’t.
At the end of July, Grandma and Grandpa started acting strangely. Grandpa wouldn’t look me in the face and when Grandma did, I saw mourning in her eyes. The atmosphere, light and summery since June, turned dark and tense. Grandpa didn’t joke and twinkle and all of Grandma’s liveliness seemed to have drained away overnight. It was almost like someone died. I asked them what was wrong but they said everything was fine.
Bullshit.
It was probably a cancer diagnosis or something. One of them was sick and the doctors didn’t think they’d make it. Dread gnawed at me and I laid awake at night in worry.
I’m not exactly the best at sharing my emotions, I keep things to myself, but Lindsey managed to drag it out of me one day. We were sitting on her grandfather’s padded porch swing, our fingers entwined and Lindsey’s head resting on my shoulder. She always squeezed so tight...like she was afraid someone would take me away from her. “It’s probably nothing,” I said haltingly, “I just...I’m kind of scared.”
When she didn’t reply, I turned to look at her. Unshed tears shimmered in her eyes. A single bead streaked down her freckled cheek like a fleck of diamond, and my heart dropped. “What?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing. I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“How much I don’t want you to leave.”
Is it possible for something to sound like a lie and the truth at the same time? Can someone mean what they say, but mean something else?
I pulled my hand out of hers and put my arm around her shoulder. She melted into me, and we just sat there, the only sound the hiss of the wind in the trees and the metallic tinkle of windchimes. I wanted to promise I wouldn’t leave her, that we could stay together, but I couldn’t, so I said nothing.
Friday night, August 2, I was sitting in my room and scrolling through Discord when Grandpa came in without knocking. Grandpa always knocked.
I looked up, and his face was pale and drawn. He looked far, far older than I’d ever seen him.
In an instant, I knew something was wrong. “Lindsey’s here.”
That’s not what I expected to hear at all. Your Grandmother’s dead, maybe, or I have terminal AIDS. Why did he look so upset that Lindsey was here?
I put my computer aside, pulled on my hoodie, and went outside. Lindsey stood at the bottom of the stairs, and when she saw me, the corners of her mouth turned up in a pallid smile. “Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” she replied gloomy.
“What’s up?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I just wanted to see if...you wanted to go for a walk.”
Hand-in-hand, we made our way toward the clubhouse. I told her about my grandfather and she listened silently. Her grip on my hand tightened the closer we got - then, I thought she did it to comfort me, but now I think it was out of desperation. The clubhouse appeared in the distance, every window blazing with light. Something was happening. A 90th birthday party or a 50th anniversary, maybe.
Lindsey stopped me. I turned to face her, and, pushing up on her tippy toes, she held my face in her hands and kissed me. Were those tears in her eyes again?
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too,” I replied.
Did I mean it? I don’t know. I was fifteen. Did she mean it? In her own way, I think she did.
Holding my hand again, she led me purposely toward the clubhouse, her grip forcing my knuckles together.
We were at the back door by the mailboxes when she let go. Her hand fluttered to her face and she began to cry.
I opened my mouth, but someone hit me from behind and I blacked out.

***

I came awake gradually, like a diver rising from the depths. My head throbbed in sickly rhythm with my heart and my stomach churned so badly I almost puked. I pushed myself to a sitting position and a wave of nausea crashed over me. I moaned and almost went down again.
When I recovered, I looked around, my heartbeat speeding up. I was in a cage in the storeroom, murky light emanating from an overhead bulb. I was naked save for my boxers and there was a dog collar around my neck.
A door opened, and Lindsey came in, her eyes pointed ashamedly at her feet. She wore a long brown robe with the hood pushed back. Her face was white and her steps somber. “What’s going on?” I asked, panic gripping me. “What’s happening?”
Still not looking at me, Lindsey knelt before the cage. “I tried to stop them.”
“Who?” I asked.
“The Masters.”
My head spun. Masters? Who were the masters?
“I really tried,” she said, her voice breaking. “But you were chosen.”
“For what?” I asked.
Finally, she looked up at me, great sadness in her eyes. “As a sacrifice.”
Before I could reply, Jeff came in, a lesh in one hand and a cattle prod in the other. Lindsey produced a key from the folds of her robe and unlocked the cage. Jeff dragged me out, attached the lesh to the collar, and shoved me toward the door, making me stumble.
They led me into the main room, where all the events were held, and what I saw froze my blood. All of the residents - old men, old ladies, people I had spent the summer getting to know - were crowded in the middle of the floor, each one wearing a robe like Lindsey’s. Jerking left and right, I saw Nathan’s grandparents, Evan’s, mine. Grandma looked away, tears streaming down her face, and Grandpa gazed into the ether, regret stamped onto his face. At the head of the room was a metal X-shaped thing on a raised platform. Mr. Anderson stood next to it and watched me with disdain as Jeff and Lindsey strapped me into it, binding my wrists and ankles. Lindsey stroked my cheek, favored me with a longing look, then joined the crowd.
Mr. Anderson’s voice filled the room, rich and booming. “We are gathered here tonight as the Last Generation, the Greatest Generation, the Generation That Shall Not Pass.”
“Forever,” everyone intoned.
“Winter approaches each of us, but we will not give it quarter. We will not allow ourselves to fade away. We have built the altar and the works upon it and we will not hand them down.”
I struggled against my bonds, sputtering broken words and half-coherent prayers. I flexed and rolled my wrists.
The right one...the one that Lindsey secured...was loose.
“...we will not lay down and let a new generation, an inferior generation, take our place. This is our world and we will cede it to no one.”
He withdrew a wickedly sharp knife from beneath his robe, and terror burst inside of me. “We will consume the blood of this boy and it will sustain us. On their blood, we will live. On their bones, we will build. With their lives, we will dwell in power forever.”
“Forever.”
I yanked, tugged, and arched my back. The strap was looser. If I pulled just a little more, I could get my hand free.
Mr. Anderson took a step toward me, but a long, high scream stopped him. Everyone turned to look at Nathan’s grandmother. Her chest rose and fell and her eyes bulged from their sockets in madness. “This isn’t right!” she screamed. “We can’t do this!”
Her husband tried to calm her, but she pulled away. “It’s wrong! You killed my grandbaby and it’s wrong!” She broke down in tears.
Mr. Anderson looked at Jeff and Jeff walked over. Nathan’s grandfather glared. “You stay away from her. Can’t you see she’s mourning?”
“There is no mourning,” Mr. Anderson said.
Jeff grabbed Nathan’s grandfather. With surprising speed, Nathan’s grandfather punched him in the face. A shocked murmur ran through the room, and Mr. Anderson went to go help his minion. Jeff, having recovered, lunged for Nathan’s grandfather and pinned him to the wall.
Nathan’s grandmother screamed and attacked Jeff with a flurry of slaps. Jeff shoved her away, and someone held her back. I flexed and rolled my wrists harder, harder, harder. Finally, my hand slipped out, and working on pure adrenaline, I unstrapped my other hand and my feet.
“He’s getting away!” someone cried.
I jumped from the platform and bolted for the nearest door, my bare feet slapping against the tiles and my heartbeat echoing through my head. They chased me, but I didn’t look back, couldn’t look back.
Slamming through the door, I ran down the street toward the main road where traffic streaked by in both directions.
I don’t remember almost being hit by a car, don’t remember how I wound up in the back of a police cruiser sobbing hysterically. I wished I didn’t remember any of it.
The police didn’t believe my story. Grandma and Grandpa cooked up a story about a fight and said I ran away. Dad bought it because he thought I was an asshole, and Mom bought it because who wants to believe that their parents are killers?
I haven’t spoken to anyone about this since it happened. Not Mom, not Dad, and not my grandparents. They send me cards for my birthday and Christmas but I never read them. Last month, I got one for Easter, and I don’t know why, but I looked inside.
We’re sorry, Grandma had written, but we’re afraid to let go.
I believe them. They’re terrified of letting go and passing away.
They’re terrified of growing old and dying.
They’re terrified of us.
submitted by Jrubas to homeofscares [link] [comments]


2020.10.17 03:21 Bean0mean Naked moms kissing

I don’t wanna be triggering but I’m honestly so alone when it comes to what happened yet I barely get to talk about it and I’m in a relationship and shit happened to him around the same time shit happened to me I feel so in love with him but he doesn’t ever wanna talk about anything with me but I just wanna get over it. My friends don’t understand despite my current best friend being there and my boyfriend is emotionally unavailable.
It was me “the thing” and my friends first sleep over of the month maybe even year all together. Me and thing had already been doing shit... I would come over and she showed me porn for the first time honestly I can’t remember if it was the same night or not but it was like teacher and a student ducking and a like I said these days blended together but I remember watching Minecraft and she started masturbating I got up not wanting to be in the same bed as her while she did that and went to go play dolls. She asked me to put my finger in her thing and I said no. I remember this exactly but she said well “jada did it and I haven’t even been friends with her long” I looked away and played with her expensive Barbie house and doll. She said well at least give me something to use so I gave her a Barbie. The rest of that night was a blur but I remember her laying in the bed with her legs wide open so vividly. Again I went over we were best friends, my little sister came over this time my sister is two years you her then me I don’t remember when this was anymore. We watched porn again and then she let her dog come in and lick her. She told us to try it and I felt so grossed out but my little sister did it I felt so guilty and I wanted to scream and say stop but I thought I trusted her and she said you can just do it through the undies so I did, I think it happened a few more times but honestly I can’t really remember.... This night is where everything changed we went to my friends trailer to have “the best sleepover ever” we messed around I had so much fun but thing got bored and said we should watch porn, we layed on friends twin bed vertical watching porn once again she got bored.... we played truth or dare I picked truth again and again. She changed it to dirty truth or dare I picked truth so it became dare or dare... we all got dared lots of sexual things my friend was smart and said she started her period... so all the dates went to me we kissed licked eachother but it went downhill when someone was dared to finger someone. Of course it was me... I cried and begged I didn’t wanna do it... I don’t ever remember getting naked but when I think back I’m naked and so scared. But after crying I just stood still because she wasn’t gonna give up. She walked up to me and slipped her hand into my pants and was leaning really close to me I don’t ever remeber looking at her but I can still see our bodies being so close together... but I do see the popcorn ceiling and the red fairy lights reflecting off each bump... I also remember joking hoping to make myself feel better I was coping I didn’t know what else to do? I can’t remeber the rest of the night but in the morning in the car I remeber thinking was last night normal? I honestly didn’t think about it for a year until news got out about her and the dog from someone else. I wanna hate u thing I do but I can’t. But It ruined my perception of every female in my life. I have nightmares and if my mom hugs me little too weird I get triggered and tell her to get off me and go to my room and cry have nightmares of my grandma and mom raping me and my little sister. You’ve ruined women for me.
submitted by Bean0mean to adultsurvivors [link] [comments]