The Mother in Me

By
Erin Amelia Fletcher

The two stared at one another for moments, like ready for high noon, and yet just reading one another.

The Warlock, said ‘any last words?!’

‘This is for my mothers’ stated Nathan, as he stretched out his hand and began to execute the Warlock once and for all.

Chapter 1

The sky was black in the early morning, the clouds that endlessly and slowly cascaded and swept over and around the moon, the orange silver of the moon made the clouds appear like smoky shadows. The clouds began to rupture with the crackle of electric sparks, thunder smacking the ground endlessly like target practice, following a moving target. Crack, smack ‘pow’ the ground queued. Earth escaping were it was attacked fell around the spot it was hit, the gravel and road brittle by the thunder looked frail and at war, not able to withstand anymore except to be used as cover like pits, or small short trenches to hide.

The boy, well young man whom was chased threw himself into one of these open pits in the road, which inside resembled a gravel like texture, very uncomfortable to gain comfort. Though, comfort was the least of his wishes it was just for his cover. The young man, breathed heavy trying to regain composure. His right eye was scared badly, yet healed some time ago. His left cheek still bandaged, had noticeable blood stains and the outside some traces of mud and sweat stains. His blond hair, stretched now to his shoulders, his blue eyes nearly turning black and almost resembling a silver tone in the darkness. His clothes were charred, rips, burns, stains of many things someone in his predicament would have such as blood, sweat, and mud etc. He looked at war, homeless defeated, tired…but unwilling to give up.

The boy, the man had many things awaiting him, many things to prove, many things to do, and many promises to keep. He would be damned if he didn’t live up to them, even if it meant his life.

A man with dark grey hair, came out of the shadows from around the corner of the street. His long black leather trench coat smacking the air as he walked, his leather boots clunked on the ground like an evil war song, to mesmerize and terrorize its victims. His Grey leather pants and black tank top showed his evilness, the blackness of his nothingness, his lost soul. It all showed him. He grinned and evil grin with ever step, his unshaven face, gave him a ruthless expression to be had to give one reason to take away from him. His walk was one of stance and power, of control and infliction. He felt no mercy for anyone but himself. The man, coming to claim the boy the Warlock, long awaited, and now it has come down to this.

The Man raised his hand, and shot fire at the hole were the boy hid. Like a flamethrower, the fire rippled to the pit. The boy jumped up as he began to feel the heat nearing himself. This street in Rome, cascaded with rising fire. Each building in the street, each item fire consumed it. Like hell on earth, the heat, the fire, the fear and the torture. Misery was this place, hell was standing in front of one another 30 feet apart. The Warlock smirked a near sign of victory, the boy showed fear and the Warlock could see it, could feel it, could smell it and even sense it out of pure insight. He had no emotion himself, but he could feel others, he fed off of it, like a cowboy is fed off steak and stews.

The two stared at one another for moments, like ready for high noon, and yet just reading one another.

The Warlock, said ‘any last words?!’

‘This is for my mothers’ stated Nathan, as he stretched out his hand and began to execute the Warlock once and for all.

The warlock, returned the favour and said ‘they were a real treat’ and struck out his hand and produced a fireball.

The Warlock was hit first, after the fire ball was released from his grip and thrown Nathans way. The Warlock was hit in the torso, just below the chest, thrown several feet in the air threw a window backwards tumbling. He hit his head on a burning wooden column inside the house.

Nathan was hit in his right shoulder, by the fireball and fell back. Throwing off his jacket and in pain put out the fire with mud from the pit. Looking up at the sound of pain, the groaning, from the burning house the Warlock was thrown threw.

The Warlock, continued to groan. His head hurt and so did his entire front side, the lightning strike that Nathan gave him, felt like his body was on fire from the inside out. Trying to get up, but unable he tried to crab walk looking behind himself every other moment to find the back door.

Suddenly, the brittle of the wooden floors from overtop, could be heard breaking from the brittleness and fire. Fear for the first time in years, the Warlocks pupils grew and he tried to move quicker. The back door that he kept seeing was locked, and he could not get up to unlock it. Suddenly, the plank fell sideways through the window and the fiery floor overheard screeched and curled under itself. Falling on top of the warlock frozen in fear. The once mortal man, cursed with his stolen power, burned alive by his own stupidity, and soulless nature.

Across the seas by thousands of miles, I awaited by the window, with two children at the table and another in my arms. One awaiting for birth in my belly, I cast another blessing as I do every night on the candle in the only curtain-less window in the house, surrounded by sprigs of holly and red and white rose petals.

May the Goddess protect him
And guide him home
Nathan my love
No matter where you roam
In love and light
So blessed be,
By the power of this divine light
So it shall be

Melinda and Lillian sat at the table eating there desserts of Sundays with cherries on top.
Melinda my eldest child of 7 years old with her hazel eyes, dark brown hair, in her yellow sundress. Lillian age 6, looks more like her father, blond hair blue eyes and pretty pink sundress. In my arms, little Michael 3 years old, sat smiling mildly as he was getting tired, snuggling up against my side his silver eyes, and dark brown hair that was so dark looked more black then anything.

The rain started to pour and the drops could be seen smacking themselves against the window, clouds darkening and lightning could be heard in the skies. The night, would be long, awaiting the possibilities of my children wanting to sleep with me out of fear of the thunder that would come and go throughout the night.

“MOM!!!!!” I heard out of the corner of my head, as I was getting mesmerized by my many thoughts.

I turned around and said “Yes? what is it?” while walking into my dining room.

“Melinda stole my cherry, and she won’t give it back” replied Lilly, tattling.

I rolled my eyes, and asked “Melinda, why did you steal your sister’s cherry?”

“Cause she wasn’t gonna eat it” replied Melinda trying to con her way out of trouble, sticking her tongue out to Lilly.

“I was too, liar I was just saving it” replied Lilly.

“You were half way done your ice-cream, and didn’t even touch your cherry, in that case I think its mine, who saves there cherry…cherries should always be ate first not last” stated Melinda, in a giggling form.

“What your sister does with her cherry is her own business Melinda, you know better than that” I said, “Now apologize to your sister and go to bed, an hour earlier for bed, won’t hurt you and will sure teach you not to steal from others”

“But…” replied Melinda before I cut her off with the all famous motherly scolding stare “Sorry Lilly for stealing your cherry”

“I suppose, it’s ok” replied Lilly.

“Now you two hug, and Melinda you go off to bed” I said, instructing the two to make up which they did.

Melinda went off to bed, and I sat a cherry down in the center of the table on a napkin. I instructed Lilly to practice, if she could move it from off the napkin into her bowl, she could have it.

Lilly as always was ready and willing and within 4 minutes, she had herself another cherry.

That night, we all ended up sleeping together except Michael was in the nursery and sleeping like a log.

Meanwhile, there was a ruckus downstairs, I was out like a light as the roll of motherhood takes its toll on you after a long day.

A vase broke, falling off the end table to the floor. Wet sneakers could be mildly heard shuffling to the kitchen. The refrigerator door could be heard opening, and sounds from the kitchen emanated throughout the house.

“Electrica foresa Electrica Trapa” sounded a chant, by Melinda’s voice. Sparks emerged, crackling could be heard throughout the house like leaving the television on in the early morning only to hear the snowing of the television.

I raced downstairs, to find Melinda unconscious on the floor, and the perp she cast the shield around several inches above the floor surrounded by electric sparks, unable to move without the possibility of being electrocuted.

I looked at the distorted face, and rugged look and nearly fell faint myself…it was Nathan.

To be continued…