When the little boy had slipped out of his bed (a race car one that he had got for Christmas) slipped on his slippers, then jacket, mittens, hat, and scarf. He did it mindlessly like when he was sleepy and mom was guiding him through the motions of getting dressed on a cold day for school. He felt the ghost of cool hands sliding along taking control, zipping the jacket all the way to his chin (just like mom), tugging his hat down to his eyebrows (just like mom), and wrapped his scarf extra tight (just like mom).
He felt her right by his side guiding him down the stairs, helping him skip the creaky step on the stairs that would get him caught (why does he not want to get caught)? His little hand on the doorknob he stops and turns looking around looking for mom (where is mom)? On the other side of the door there is mom, something tells him so he opens the door and there is no mom. But it’s okay, that ghostly hand soothes him (just the way mom does) because mom is only a little further and when he sees mom it will be alright.
So the little boy shuffles down the driveway in his thick pants and thick jacket warm as can be on the cold night. He feels a hand in his and only is slightly aware, still tired, still having that dream-like feeling. He shuffles down the road to the right, down farther, then the left, and the maze of directions continue on and on for what could be hours or minutes but he is too young to tell, too young, too tired, and too focused on (mommomommomommomomom where is mom). He needs to find her more than he needs anything cartoons in the morning, juice with breakfast instead of milk.
Where is my mom?
“Mom is right here.” The boy blinks once, twice, a third time, and a fourth to be completely sure. Mom is there in front of him. She looks off. And that makes no sense mom isn’t supposed to be off but she is. Something is wrong with mom and that is not okay because mom is mom. Off-Mom raises her hand and he raises his hand to meet hers. “Mom your cold” he mumbles but when he is ignored he takes it as a truth. Mom is cold, mom is always cold, mom has been cold.
Wordlessly mom leads him into the woods on the end of Whicker street, takes him down that long road that’s so long his legs always hurt by the end of it but this time it doesn’t. And that thought makes him grin because if his legs don’t hurt because of that long road that means he’s a big boy. The thought takes over his mind and he doesn’t notice when smooth gravel turns to crunchy leaves and sticks. Doesn’t notice until mom stops and they are at the edge of a lake, some large lake he has never known of in the middle of the woods he was told not to go under any circumstances at all (he had not understood what the word circumstances meant but he acted like he did).
The lake was silent and still and something about it made him shiver. It felt like the sun and shone over the clouds and seeing the lake gave him a clarity.
This was not mom.
The thing still holding his hand gripped it tighter, as if seeing with the boy that he understood finally mom was not here. Mom was not here at all. It clutched its cold hand around his gloves and started walking towards the water. Panic set in and all he could do was dumbly walk unsure of what to do. A fog crept into his mind once again and the panic was soothed just as his slippers hit the water.
Cold water stung his feet and as he slowly descended into the water, numbness set in.
Waist deep a sharp tug from mom (not mom something said deep deep in the back of his head, the something screamed and pounded the fog but it was so deep below that nothing but the echoes were heard). And he titled forward only barley righting himself when his right slipper caught on a branch at the bottom.
He woke up for the third time that night. True fear struck his heart and he began to pull against the hand of who held him. The hand was long and thin, all sickly white skin and bones. His body was wet and heavy pulling him down into the lake with the woman who took him.
At his resistance she turned and her true face made him shriek, he threw himself backwards but nothing gave. Her face was nothing. Skin covered where her other features should have been, a white gown hung over her now with thick white hair the same shade as her dress.
But with no mouth she still spoke.
“Son…not my son NOT MY SON NOT MY SON NOT MY SON”
She shrieked fury evident and reached for him with her thin hand wrapping her hand around his crushing him. He cried out at the feeling and tried to wrench himself back but again nothing. Desperately he tried pulling pulling pulling as the women kept pushing him down down down to the bottom of the lake, where her sons were. Finally she got him under and he took a gulp before he went, tiny lungs already burning. She kept wrenching away, throwing himself so hard it made him hurt but still he kept going.
And just as he felt like he had to open his mouth, his wet glove came away from his hand. With a speed he didn’t know he had the boy burst forward away from the bottom and to the surface. The woman raged behind him chanting “NOT MY SON” as she raced to grab him. Something told him if he could reach the shore he would be safe, but he did not give in. He would not stop until he made it home, and not to his bed but to his parents, not until he was safe in their arms, wet clothes and all.
He reached the bank, the hand missing his jacket by seconds, The air hit him and his joints ached but he kept on. The sound of his soggy slippers running down the streets filled the dead air of the witching hour. Still he could hear her behind him, could feel her trying to fog his mind but his fear was too much. Enraged she continued until they reached his porch and he slammed the door open then closed, taking precious seconds to lock it all he could feel his heart pound like drums in his ears barely covering the sounds of fists beating the door and clawing it in anger.
Finally he bounded up the stairs and flung his parents’ doors open. And launched himself into their warm bed. They awoke confused and mad, but he would tell them the best he could in the morning, for now he was safe and that was all he needed.
