Flash fiction project: one dark story per day, all the way through October, each one based on one normal thing gone wrong. More of this year’s stories here. You can find last year’s stories here, or at Amazon as October Nights.
Normal thing: Parents
Where was it said, where was it written, that one had to send one’s children away? To schools, to colleges, to lives and jobs of their own? It was an uncomfortable situation altogether. Their children would insist upon making fools of themselves. They took up basket-weaving and learning about, well, not very nice people, as if that were something that one could make a living at. They were impressionable. They could not think for themselves, a condition which they had demonstrated time and time again, and their parents should know; they had raised them. Had they not taught their children to respect themselves? They had. So why these grand yet disgusting gestures of independence? It was just being stubborn. They could not stand to be proven to be wrong.
Could they not be trusted to select friends for themselves? Could they not date someone nice? Could they not get married, have children, buy a house within walking distance, keep up a yard? Why were all the good things that they had been taught cast aside?
To be fair, well, there was nothing to be fair about. They did not come home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Their phone calls became increasingly separated by time and distance. One could see them, mucking about on social media, having lives that they had no business living, pretending to enjoy themselves, not listening.
They were sharp and rude and didn’t understand that their parents were only trying to help; or they were soft and gelatinous, hard to pin down; or they simply pretended to ignore half the things one said, things that had been said to them when they were younger didn’t they understand that they had to grow up? What was all this about tattoos? Why not stop drinking expensive coffees out of those foolish porcelain travel mugs? Why not use the machine that they had bought for them, the one that takes the little plastic coffee packets, you can make anything that way? And no one didn’t need to know about their…their significant whatevers, that filth, in our day we wouldn’t have come within fifty feet of those pieces of trash,
Baby murderers! Burn the illegals! Burn the gays! Burn them all!
And then their parents left the house, they were seen in RVs, in restaurants, in cars with someone else’s badly-raised children in the streets in front of them, a foot on the accelerator and a bump under the tires, in wheelchairs, in nursing homes, in badly-upkept or luxurious retirement apartments (depending on whether they’d lived virtuous lives earlier on; of course everyone gets what they deserve), finally having grown up enough to leave their children behind and live lives of their own.
…And that’s about as much normal as anyone should have to take.
Dark, strange, twisted, and wonderful – #paranormal #horror and #mystery stories from Wonderland Press.