A/N:
Hi everyone! Here’s a holiday special for all you guys! Just in case you want to get into the right halloween mood! So enjoy, and look forward to Christmas, which will have a far more humorous tone 🙂
Mother
The hallway was dark and silent as Molly slowly made her way through it. She’d had the most horrendous nightmare. Probably because of the mountains of sweets she’d consumed despite her fathers teasing that she was really getting too old to use Halloween as an excuse. She’d merely stuck her tongue out and told him sixteen was hardly old. She’d eat as many sweets as she pleased.
Now, however, she regretted doing so. She had trouble shaking the nightmare off, and discovering the light had gone out hadn’t helped. It was with a baited breath she felt her way through the hallway; a sigh of relief escaping as she finally made it to the safety of the kitchen.
Despite the late hour it was well-lit, and Molly’s eyes watered at the sudden assault of light. Her mother was still up even though she’d told Molly and her dad that she would go to bed hours ago. She was currently doing the dishes that they’d decided could wait for tomorrow.
“Good morning, honey,” she said cheerfully without turning around.
“Morning,” Molly mumbled, still trying to shake off the unsettling feeling left over from the nightmare.
“Whatever are you doing up?” Her mother asked. “I thought you went to bed hours ago. I hope I didn’t wake you up?”
“No, not at all. I just had a bad dream.”
“My poor girl!” Her mother sighed in sympathy, but didn’t turn around to hug her as usual.
“It was just a dream,” Molly mumbled; knowing her mother would offer her a cup of hot chocolate as she always did whenever Molly had a bad dream. It had been a habit since she was four, which they had simply never given up.
“Well, why don’t you heat up a cup of milk?” her mother said instead. “That’ll be sure to put you right to sleep.”
Wondering if her mother thought her too old for hot chocolate as a mean for comfort, Molly couldn’t help but think hot milk wasn’t exactly an adult drink either.
“No, I’ll just take a coke,” she said, fetching one from the fridge. “What are you still doing up? Couldn’t stand the thought of the dirty dishes just laying around?” Molly teased.
“Oh, hush,” her mother told her. “I couldn’t sleep and decided to do something productive with my time.”
“And so you decided to do the dishes?” Molly asked, teasing.
“I swear you’re as bad as your father!” her mother exclaimed, pretending she wasn’t amused. Molly, however, knew her mother well enough to know that she was currently hiding a smile.
“Is dad sleeping?” she asked. Her dad was crazy with Halloween, and it wouldn’t surprise Molly if he was still up; reading one of his many beloved horror stories.
“As a manner of speaking,” her mother said. “Holly, darling, would you hand me the dish towel?”
“Did you just call me Holly?” Molly asked, surprised.
“Don’t be silly,” her mother laughed. “Of course not. Don’t you think I know my own daughter’s name? You should get your ears checked.”
Molly smiled the same crooked smile she had inherited from her father. She was used to her parents’ teasing. “Maybe you’re just getting dementia,” she returned. “Isn’t that part of getting old? I’m certainly not looking forward to getting old myself.”
“Don’t worry,” her mother said. “You won’t.”
“What?”
“Well, you’ll always be my little girl.”
“I’m not a little girl anymore.” She looked at her mother in reprove. Did she just have a bad memory or did the stack of clean dishes next to her mother not grow?
“Mum, haven’t you been washing that plate for an awful long time?”
“It’s not a plate, honey.”
“Well, what is it? You’ve been scrubbing it for like ten minutes already.”
“It’s your dad.”
Molly blinked.
“What?” she said.
“It’s your dad,” her mother repeated finally pulling her hands out of the water. In her right grip was a cut off head, blood still dripping down into the water, which Molly could now she was red, where it wasn’t covered in bubbles. The head had a silly little moustache and was somehow still wearing a pair of old-fashioned horn-rimmed glasses. It was her dad.
Molly screamed. Was this some sort of sick joke? It looked far too real, but it had to be a prop.
“Mum,” she cried; thinking her evil to even attempt a poor joke like that.
Her mother laughed.
“I’m not your mother,” she said, finally turning around. “At least not any longer.”
Molly screamed again. Where her mother’s faced was supposed to be was a bloody mess. Someone had cut off her mother’s face and left raw flesh in its place, empty eye sockets and a skull’s broad grin.
The creature let go of her father’s head and picked up the kitchen knife next to it, the eerie grin never leaving it’s face.
“Time to join mummy and daddy,” it said as it started to walk towards her in her mother’s body.
With a choked sob Molly ran. Within a couple of seconds she’d left the well-lit kitchen, and was sprinting down the darkened hallway; throwing herself at the front door. A desperate search for the door knob. A frustrated scream. Finally she found it and tore it downwards just to find out it was locked. She turned around.
The creature was going toward her calmly. It was still wearing her mother’s favourite blue dress and the apron she’d loved so much.
“Now, darling, why are you running?” It said with her mother’s voice. “Don’t you recognize your own mother?” It threw its head back and laughed; showing off her mother’s pearl necklace.
“Please,” Molly said; desperately looking for a way to escape. There was none. “Please,” she begged again.
The creature gave a disappointed shake with it’s head. “Now is that any way to talk to your mother? Aren’t you a good daughter? Good daughters do what their mothers’ tell them. And I’m telling you to die like your mummy and daddy.”
Molly was crying now. “Please,” she begged, desperately throwing herself against the door.
“Now, don’t be such a baby. We’ll have so much fun. Your mum and dad had to be killed quickly. I didn’t want to wake you. But now we have all the time in the world, and you’ll be screaming so sweetly for me. We have hours to kill.”
“No!”
“But yes!” The creature laughed and lunged for Molly. Her mother’s pale hand closed around her upper arm, and the creature gave a triumphant grin. Molly screamed in horror.
“Now, why are you screaming so loudly?” it asked at it raised the kitchen knife; laughing manically. “Don’t you recognize your own mother?”
Her mother’s deformed, dead face would be the last thing Molly ever saw.
mariasjostrand 