A Story A Night

I woke up to the creaks in the floorboards, and a shadow under the door.

"MUM!" I yelled, both angry and scared. Mum had made me fall asleep without my bedtime story! How dare she!

"Mum! You haven’t told me my story!"

The footsteps paused, there was a sigh then the creak of an opening door. I watched Mum walk over to sit on the bed, shoulders sagging.

"Well, there once was a boy," she started, "He was very annoying and never wanted to sleep. He was told to shut up, but he never listened. He was so stubborn he couldn’t shut the fuck up for a few moments."

I gasped. Such profanities! But before I could complain she continued.

"So he was told, one FINAL time, to shut. The fuck. Up. Or he would find himself unable to speak for- well, the rest of his life."

I opened my mouth again, but was interrupted. Again.

"Don’t. Say. Another. Fucking. Word. Okay?"

But me? No, Mum NEVER speaks to me like this. I couldn’t just let her walk away!

"Mum, how dare you! I demand you walk back here this instant and tell me my bedtime story!"

Those last few screeched words rung slightly. Mum sighed, turned around and walked over. She drew a knife.

"I ain’t your fucking mother."

I didn’t even feel the knife slide across my trachea. No, all I really felt was the figure ripping out my vocal cords.

—
Credits to: Mr_Halloween