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"Everyday"

Enter Masky: Part 1.5

F.)        Slenderman keeled down “Listen… go with your mother, she must be devastated.”

 Tim “B-But why?”

 Slenderman “Because you made a valid point… Look you and the other boy do belong to me now, however; I owe to you this much and since your life as you will come to know it, will never be the same. I will grant you ‘half’ a ‘normal’ life… besides only your mother could know how to raise you properly right?”

Tim nodded; still un-entirely sure over what was going to happen. “But so…” Tim tilted his head toward the direction the hooded boy had ran off to “what about him?”

 Slenderman looked over as well “He will not be so lucky, I’m afraid; he does not have anywhere to go.”

 Tim “What about his mom and dad?”

 Slenderman stroked Tim’s cheek “He’s not as lucky as you.”

 Tim stared at Slenderman hard, trying to find the missing emotion from his words.

 Slenderman “Because I’m giving you ‘half’ a life, you will only remember pieces of our encounters here... do you understand?”

 Tim nodded “But if I don’t remember, how will I know?”

 Slenderman held Tim close “You will.”

S.)    They’re screams fill the house, the night scent loomed fearful and cold. The stars lit a rather dismal and heartbroken gaze within the child’s eyes, brimmed with heat and a watery darkness; he peered up into the sky, resentful over what life has sadly played in part of his still unfolding childhood. Their words continued raging on in argument.

The stars bailed no comfort in the young child, their small lit starlight’s where too far away, he could not reach them. Raising his head he shed a tear and whispered.

“I’m home.”

That morning…

His eyes opened in greeting by the warm sun of which at this point poured into the room, illuminating everything in a beautiful morning shade of orange, yellow, and light pink. He sat up rubbing his weary eyes and stretched his sleep away. Removing the covers he hopped out of bed silently opening his door, he peered into the hallway; then quickly hid behind the door again as he saw his father pass by. The boy watched the man collected his things, he pulled on his suit jacket and headed out the front door, closing it with some rather ruff force. The boy sighed and stepped out; standing in the middle of the hall he scanned his surroundings and felt odd.

(Thoughts) “Everything seems to be in place, nothing’s wrong?”

 He looked to his right and headed down the hallway, opening the far end door and stepped inside. Closing the door gently he tipped toed in and crawled into the bed of that room, cuddling close to a still sleeping woman. She appeared worn out, messy, and hurt; the boy gazed into her face, recalling every wound she bears, he snuggled in closer to her and napped a while longer.

“Honey… Timothy…wake up dear…”

The boy heard the sweet tone of his mother’s voice and hid away his smile, keeping his eyes closed he joked, hoping to hear her voice some more.

She smiled and shook him softly “Come on love, aren’t you hungry?” he remained ‘asleep’ “then I guess I’ll have to eat all the pancakes by myself.”

“No” he giggled as his mother tickled him awake “Ohhh so now you’re up?”

“Yes mommy! I’m up!” he continued giggling, she too chuckled “Okay then let’s go.”  

She grabbed his arm and helped him up out of bed; they both held one another’s hand and skipped to the door. Entering the kitchen, the boy’s mother opened the pantry, taking out an apron “Timothy, want to help me?” she asked as she put it on, “Ya!”
Tim helped his mother make the batter for the pancakes and helped set up the table. Placing four cups down he began to pour a messy attempt of milk and orange juice, when finished he cleaned up and stood idly by for his mother to enter and see his fine work.

“Alright hun are you read-y”                                               

“Tada!” the boy jumped “Lookie mommy I serve the drinks this time!” She placed a plate full of pancakes onto the table and looked at the stains and wet floor; she smiled “Good job honey, thank you so much for helping me.”

“Yay!” he jumped again and nudged his mother near a chair “now come on ma sit down.”

“But Timothy I still need to get the condiments.”

“No mama, you sit down, I’ll get the cotton-mints.”

The boy ran back into the kitchen “Okay, okay.” His mother called out as she rested her chin on her hand and grinned softly, brushing what hurt had occurred that night away. The kindly sound of her son’s enthusiastic voice brought her spirits up, his tender and innocent smile brought her happiness, and his simply being there, close to her heart brought her strength back.

“Well Timothy, what do you thing love?”

“Mmmm Mmmm! Real good mom! Your the best!”

They laughed; then the boy’s mother suddenly drew him close and hugged him. Tim didn’t react right away he simply sat there a little confused, he looked up meeting her gaze “Ma? Are you crying?” She sniffed and wiped away at her eyes “It’s just… I’m so happy you’re alright.” She looked down for a moment then took a breath “Timothy” she raised his chin “When I got the news about the clinic fire and being phoned the chance of your not being here anymore, you could only imagine what I felt at that moment...right?” Her eyes began to water again. Tim quickly embraced her “But mom I’m here now, it’s okay.” He too sniffed not wanting to see her cry.

“Yes I know, I know...”

They held each other close, “Mom…” Tim laid his head on his mother’s shoulder “Mom…” he closed his eyes “I’ll never leave you, never again… I promise.”

It had only been a day or two since the boy was dropped off at his house by the one that caused the clinic to burn down, the monster of his nightmares, the monster of which haunted him in reality. He and another kid were taken from the clinic a little bit before the accident to be spoken to. It mentioned wanting children of his own, children that will become proxy to his being; become something of his own will. Recalling the monster and his words made the boy’s body shake. The monster said he would forget pieces of their encounters in due time, but when? When was that going to happen? “I don’t want to remember anymore” the boy fought to keep his eyes closed, but with these questions, the arguing, and struggles occurring out there and in his head, how was he to sleep? How was he to forget anything?  The four year old panted recalling the past days, recalling his parents arguing, remembering his older brother’s leave. He just didn’t understand, his life was so complicated, it was so hard to live through a single day or night, mornings though… mornings where his safe haven “If I could just sleep” he murmured, “everything will stop and dad won’t be here anymore, he’ll leave mom and me alone!” the boy cried quietly to himself repeating the same means of which brought him no end. 

To Be Continued...