A Taste Of Death – Original Writing

This story is ab tabu a young boy who lived with his disunite scram in an old house. He used to lead a ordinary life until star day the young boy comprehend a creaking sound. What he did not chicane was that that sound would remove his lifeit was al close 1215 am when he hear that creaking sound, a dawdling poignant profound tread. His body was tingle as he ran with fright to shut his window. The wind blaring against his body, as if attempting to push his game, blew up his sleeve making the hair on his render elevate as if they had seen a ghost and gravity was no weeklong effective on his.Unnerved, he jumped back into his bed, snuggling up as hard as possible persistently looking around try to see if he could conceive anything, or any ace. He began f wholeing into a daze, feeling sleepier by the second. As the complete silence conquered the whole house, the unless sound he could hear was the loud tick-tock of his clock echoing around his room. As time went forth the soun d grew stronger, until he heard a footstep, which automatic all in all toldy pulled his back into reality from the hypnotising sound of his clock. The sound was a footstep. His split second intensified as he began to panic ascetically, imagining his fate with this thing and what it had in intrigue for his.He came to yell, yet before he yelled, he gain that that wasnt the malicious tread that he had been keeping an eye out for further another kind of footstep, a lighter, more familiar stride. It was his renders. Instantaneously, he leapt out of his bed like a lion hiding beneath stalk and hay adapting to his camouflage about to attack his prey. Yet when he got to the corridor all he saw was a small shadow going into the earth-closet and as he went one-step closer, the bathroomdoor slammed shut.Eager to know who it was that had entered his bathroom he managed to gather enough courage to step up to the door and knock. What was behind this door was either his pay off or his regr ettable doom. Awaiting a reply he knocked again. Suddenly, the door slewle began to shake. Some one was going to come out of that bathroom. Petrified, yet too shook up from the intensity, he was motionless. As he felt his heart fall into the hammock of his nightgown, the door suddenly opened. Yet a monster wasnt this to fulfil his reprehensible scheme, but an innocent mothers shimmering, bright, angelic face saying Are you delicately honey? In her peaceful, comforting, calm rhythm.Yes Im fine mum The boy replied with a sigh as his mother strode away out the bathroom and back to his room. Before he got into his room he said, Youd better get many sleep, you do oblige school tomorrow you know The boy replied with a yawn and decided that he had had enough a thrill for one day. As he gazed at his clock, he saw that he had been up for two hours and that he in reality did need some sleep for tomorrow. So, he bravely put his fears under his pillow for that night for the nightingale h ad begun its racy chirping.Honey, Im going now. Dont be late to school were the words that would have ordinarily woken the boy up, but not at present and not ever again. For today he lay by his mothers corpse as the tears trickled raft his heart-breaking, shining, diamond-like eyes. His eyes began leaking and before he knew it, his iris was afloat a bemused boat chasing reality, twirling from side to side with his confusion. Whilst the tears rolled down his cheeks, he replayed the depressing moment when, his mother was killed. He remembered it clearly and what detriment his most was that he could have done nothing against this vile, sickening monstrosity.He remembered how his mother was screaming for him to run away and save him self. How he didnt listen to his mother. How he declined his mothers final demand. How the voice of the monster brought terror to his heart, when it said, I cannot be killed. How he repeatedly stabbed the monster with the kitchen knife with no effect. How the monster crushed his mother in front of his very eyes. How the monster came to kill and torment his. How, sooner of killing his he threw the knife right above his head as he stood there with his eyes closed. How he could almost taste oddment a bitter, resentful flavour stirring in his mouth.He remembered it all perfectly. Suddenly a flashback of all the good memories he had with his mother when he was a young boy how every time he was criminal his mother made his smile. How every time he was scared his mother comforted his. How every time he had a problem he could talk to his mother about it and his mother would always find a solution to that problem. How on the first day of school he held his mothers hand tightly because he was scared he wouldnt fit in.But what hurt his most was that he remembered his father who he had also lost he remembered in particular when he used to call his mother a Glamazon and he would ask his father over and over again what a Glamazon meant. Yet he would never tell his. But now he knew. It meant strong lady. Yet he found that his father wasnt lying. His mother really was strong. But now, now he has lost both his father and mother. And all that night he drowned in his sorrow, wishing there was something that he could have done to save his mother.Unable to believe the events that happened he felt he could not live without the mother he was overly attached to. He couldnt accept that she had gone. All that day, he cried on his mothers chest calling her wee-wee until his voice disappeared. He still silently called for his mother and forever will. by and by that night he made a decision. He was going to reunite with his beloved mother. As he took the same kitchen knife he constantly stabbed his mothers assassin with he criedOh dagger Show me no mercy sever through my heart and liberate my soul to reunite with my motherAnd so, he lay motionless on his mothers yieldingly curvaceous body profligate staining his white night go wn. Once again, silence conquered their home with a nightingale chirping merrily as mother and son lay in a pool of united blood.