Mommy
Chapter 1
Chloe sat alone in the halls of an empty building, curled in a ball along one of the narrow corners. She was waiting for something...no, someone. She wasn’t certain how or when she arrived to this abandoned building, but she did know that the rotting stench reminded her of a time when her mother took her to the cemetery. Chloe had gotten reprimanded for some reason or another– she couldn’t recall exactly what it was– and proclaimed that she wished she had never been born. She didn’t mean it, really. However, her mother, in an angry rampage, grabbed her child and dragged her into the car and to the cemetery and told Chloe that this was where people that didn’t want to live any more went. Years later, Chloe would be visiting that same cemetery, standing over her own mother’s gravesite, dearly trying to suppress the overwhelming sadness at the loss of her only mother.
Chloe was brought out of her thoughts as a large rodent skittered across the concrete floor. She was cold, and wondered if she should be hungry. She couldn’t remember when it was that she last ate. Judging by the ribs protruding from her stomach, it had been quite a while. She didn’t, however, make a move to find any sustenance. In truth, Chloe wasn’t sure that her limbs would hold her frail body up.
When Chloe was little, she recalled, her grandmother would always scold Chloe’s mother about the child’s weight. It was perfectly normal, mind you, but the grandmother always deemed Chloe as far too thin. What would she say now if she saw her? The grandmother lay in her bed of soil and worms alongside of Chloe’s mother now. Chloe wondered how long it would be before she joined their graves.
Oh graves, she could remember now. She used to have a red-headed friend named Rebecca Graves. Such a sweet gal. That Rebecca, Chloe mused, she would come over in the pouring rain, walking the whole way, just to give a friend in need a helping hand, no matter the cause. Rebecca was brilliant, too, top of her class every year. Chloe hated her. She hated the long curly locks on the back of Rebecca’s skull, she hated Rebecca for her shiny white teeth and her right perfect grades. Most of all, Chloe hated her for the friendship she gave to Chloe.
Chloe wondered if whomever she was waiting on was a friend. Maybe it was a business associate. Did she even have a job, she wondered. She also wondered if all she did was wonder and watch rats run around. She wondered if wondering made someone wonderful. Mostly, she just wondered if she was really real.
She felt a warm, stickily liquid stream down from her collarbone, and looked to find the source. She spotted the iron-filled vermillion liquid and wondered where the large gash came from. Chloe assumed that she should probably put pressure on the wound, but her eyes remained transfixed on the thick fluid that rained from her collar bone down to her chest.
She remembered a scarlet dress her mother used to wear whenever Chloe’s father would return from a long business trip. She remembered her mother forcing Chloe and her siblings to dress cleverly whenever their father was arriving home. Chloe really couldn’t recall her father much anymore. She couldn’t recall his facial features, his scent, or even his personality. She could recollect that he loved his children, but not enough to stay with them. She never found out where he had gone to. Was he even gone?
Chloe’s eyes snapped opened, and she imagined that they were bloodshot now. The vicinity around her was all gray, and the sunlight from outside was beginning to dim. She felt herself begin to nod off as a voice inside her screamed to stay awake. She was so drowsy, though. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, but she heard another voice. This time, the voice was heard not from within her, but from the room! It was her mother! She was waiting for her mother. It seemed so silly now, of course it was her mother. “Mommy, I missed you,” She mumbled, curling herself into a tighter ball and closing her eyes. Just as the sun had completely vanished from the sky, she saw herself reaching out to her mother, grabbing her hand and walking away together.
Chloe was brought out of her thoughts as a large rodent skittered across the concrete floor. She was cold, and wondered if she should be hungry. She couldn’t remember when it was that she last ate. Judging by the ribs protruding from her stomach, it had been quite a while. She didn’t, however, make a move to find any sustenance. In truth, Chloe wasn’t sure that her limbs would hold her frail body up.
When Chloe was little, she recalled, her grandmother would always scold Chloe’s mother about the child’s weight. It was perfectly normal, mind you, but the grandmother always deemed Chloe as far too thin. What would she say now if she saw her? The grandmother lay in her bed of soil and worms alongside of Chloe’s mother now. Chloe wondered how long it would be before she joined their graves.
Oh graves, she could remember now. She used to have a red-headed friend named Rebecca Graves. Such a sweet gal. That Rebecca, Chloe mused, she would come over in the pouring rain, walking the whole way, just to give a friend in need a helping hand, no matter the cause. Rebecca was brilliant, too, top of her class every year. Chloe hated her. She hated the long curly locks on the back of Rebecca’s skull, she hated Rebecca for her shiny white teeth and her right perfect grades. Most of all, Chloe hated her for the friendship she gave to Chloe.
Chloe wondered if whomever she was waiting on was a friend. Maybe it was a business associate. Did she even have a job, she wondered. She also wondered if all she did was wonder and watch rats run around. She wondered if wondering made someone wonderful. Mostly, she just wondered if she was really real.
She felt a warm, stickily liquid stream down from her collarbone, and looked to find the source. She spotted the iron-filled vermillion liquid and wondered where the large gash came from. Chloe assumed that she should probably put pressure on the wound, but her eyes remained transfixed on the thick fluid that rained from her collar bone down to her chest.
She remembered a scarlet dress her mother used to wear whenever Chloe’s father would return from a long business trip. She remembered her mother forcing Chloe and her siblings to dress cleverly whenever their father was arriving home. Chloe really couldn’t recall her father much anymore. She couldn’t recall his facial features, his scent, or even his personality. She could recollect that he loved his children, but not enough to stay with them. She never found out where he had gone to. Was he even gone?
Chloe’s eyes snapped opened, and she imagined that they were bloodshot now. The vicinity around her was all gray, and the sunlight from outside was beginning to dim. She felt herself begin to nod off as a voice inside her screamed to stay awake. She was so drowsy, though. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, but she heard another voice. This time, the voice was heard not from within her, but from the room! It was her mother! She was waiting for her mother. It seemed so silly now, of course it was her mother. “Mommy, I missed you,” She mumbled, curling herself into a tighter ball and closing her eyes. Just as the sun had completely vanished from the sky, she saw herself reaching out to her mother, grabbing her hand and walking away together.
♠ ♠ ♠
This was originally a story I wrote in Literature class, and the objective was to write a story in a Stream-of-Consciousness format. I hope you enjoyed reading this.