Without ado, here is the preface for the letter “M” and the emotion for the story is motherly.
There is nothing more terrifying as a heinous act committed by someone totally insane and out of control (and I’m not referring to married life).
In my lifetime I saw the press cover the horrific Charles Manson murders, making it tough to tell who the bloodsuckers and suckees were. No reason whatsoever for the last sentence except it felt cool to type it. Just when I thought I had seen it all, Jeffrey Dahmer comes along and ruins my appetite.
Not to say all madness is this severe. For example, it was truly horrific and absolute madness when the skinny young weather girl on the local news wore black and white! Stripes! Can you imagine? And that hair. What was she thinking?
I actually worked, as a high school senior, at a state mental institution. I earned extra credit for my Psychology class. On Saturdays I would assist with handing out prescriptions and general helping out for six patients. I talked with them, watched TV, read with and to them, and walked around the campus. I even go to hang out in their own version of a teen club where we would spin records. We talked about the same type of things, listened to a lot of the same music, even played some sports (wicked good ping pong players). We were dressed similarly and I never once noticed anything different about them. They seemed to be as normal as I am.
Wait a second…
I cast a wide net with the next emotion, Motherly. I figured anyone who has a mom will be able to relate so I can’t go wrong right? We’ll see.
They say there is no greater love than a mother has for her child, and I believe it. My own mom left this world far too soon. I miss her every day.
I actually have another draft for a story that I considered too sick to ask to have published. I love the stories where a mother of one species takes over the care and nurturing of an infant from a different species. How is that not cool? The human child birthing thing?
“Push! Push! Come on Nan, you can do it! Almost there now. Push!” her husband John cried out.
Nancy gritted her teeth one more time and shoved. She already had two babies, both delivered by C-section. But this was real pain. This required physical exertion like nothing she’d ever had to do in her life. Add in the fact that she was approaching her fortieth birthday soon and was not in the best of shape anyway. She felt like the ugliest monster on the face of the earth as she grunted and pushed with all her might. She just didn’t have the strength she had when she was twenty and giving birth to her first daughter.
“Push Nan Push!” John shouted.
Her face contorted and Nancy could feel John’s arm around her shoulder as…
“One more time!” he shouted and the weight was suddenly lifted.
The unconscious body of her mother tumbled awkwardly over the cliff, crushing her skull, and scattering blood, bone, and other vital fluids on the rocky coast below.
“Damn, she was heavy,” Nancy grunted to John as she fired up a joint. She took a deep hit and handed it to him.
“And I thought having kids was hard.”