Scrambled Brain

Image by blogetta

Image by blogetta

Will rises early, eager to please his mother, whose birthday is today of all days. He shuffles to the kitchen to make her a special breakfast. He looks in the refrigerator but finds it bare. He checks the pantry and sees cobwebs in it. Remembering another refrigerator in the house, he goes downstairs to the basement.

What a senile moment, he chuckles to himself. Of course, he stocks the downstairs fridge so no one can see the exotic food he keeps. He takes out a plastic container and brings it upstairs.

After fussing around the kitchen and making all the fixings, Will carries a tray of food down a short hallway. He stops in front of a closed door and knocks.

“Mama?” He calls out softly and gently opens the door. He sets down the tray on a dusty dresser and walks to the bed where a desiccated looking body is laying under a blanket.

“Rise and shine, birthday gal.” Will sits the figure up. “I made your favorite, scrambled brain, Mama.” He gets the tray and places it on the bed between the remains and himself. Sitting across from her, he talks about the things they’ll do to celebrate her birthday.  Every year he finds it easier to face his mother because his vision is growing weaker. He doesn’t like seeing how his mother ages.

The Unfortunate Seed

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Image: Pixabay

Baby Toula is an ugly baby even her own mother can’t kiss, although she claims to love her, only because she came from her womb. That’s a womb its owner, Mama Lydia, did not know had become a receptacle to a hodgepodge of chemicals, such  as synthetic fragrances she’s inhaled and the artificially preserved lotions her skin’s absorbed from the time she was a little girl to the mature fruit bearer she has now become.

As with any unsuspecting person, Lydia paid no heed to what her body was accumulating over time. How did she know the sweet, cloying Vanilla Ice cologne contained something that was also the lethal ingredient in a bug spray? Or a window cleaner? She isn’t one to question things like that. To her 20-something life, it’s more about fun stuff–like tasting those delicious bon bons that come in unnaturally vivid colors. She simply thought that if others bought them, they must be fine. The companies that churn them out are household names, so they can be trusted. Their packaging says they are mostly natural and good for you.

Now, she rocks on her chair looking at her baby from across the room, because Toula repulses her. She has pustules on a face that should be smooth-cheeked. And what should be shiny, baby fine hair is more like a patch of raised bumps. Where her lidded bright eyes would have been are unblinking dots filled in with odd-shaped cells. How she welcomes a loud cry. Instead, there’s only occasional bursts of heaves that raise her hackles.

Lydia thinks Toula is an unfortunate seed, though not a bad seed like her older sister Lizzie, who grew up to butcher their parents. Lydia will have to make sure Toula doesn’t have access to any axes.

A Visitor

Her eyes open, slowly focusing at the rail on the side of her bed. She struggles to breathe, a flash of anger courses through her as she tries to inhale what little air she can get into her terminally ill lung. A tear slides by the side of her eye, as she prays silently for mercy. She rolls onto her back and stares unseeingly up the ceiling. Her thoughts jumble. Instantly, she has a lucid thought, “I had a good, long life.” Continue reading