A Cold Day in December

A Cold Day in December Chapter Two

A Cold Day in December

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CHAPTER TWO

SPARKS FLYING

"Where's dad?" I asked my oh-so-beautiful mother the second I opened the door, not letting her in yet. Hugs and greetings quickly forgotten. Wave after wave of disappointment washed over me. I wonder why I get my hopes up when I already know what will happen. "On second thought, don't bother answering that." I opened the door widely and stepped aside.

"Oh don't give me that look now! I'm also upset with your dad for bailing in on us," she groaned. Her killer stilettos clicking on the tiled floor as she took in her masterpiece. "I'd love to stay grumpy but I just can't, look at how well my design turned out!" She exclaimed excitedly, her eyes bright and wide with adoration of the house.

I shrugged. "Welcome mom," I managed to mumble before locking myself again in the solitude of my room, shaking my head. When will I get used to all this craziness? I sighed and let the soft caresses of the pillows lull me to slumber. Please don't let the bitch, I mean the witch, invade my dreams. Oh wishes...

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Three knocks more and I'll open the damn door, I promised.

Knock! Knock!

Oh give me a break! Be gone!! In my head, I was picturing myself dragging my mom down the long staircase by her high heeled feet. Maybe I could do that, one more knock and boom! I smirked evilly. Come on, do it mom, just one more knock.

"Eriol! Come down in the kitchen! I need help!" She yelled behind the door. I dejectedly pulled my body out the bed, mentally showering my mom with honey-coated profanities. She always had a peculiar way of beating me unknowingly and it drives me insane. Really insane. A brilliant idea jingled in my head then. Just like the way a bulb turns on above my favorite cartoon character's head. What if I kill the witch and put moment of insanity in my defense. That could work right?

I hopped my way down the kitchen with the million- dollar murder scheme of the century playing in my imagination in vivid colors. But nothing could've prepared me from what I saw next. No it wasn't the cold and lifeless body of the witch lying helplessly on the floor, bathed in her own expensive blood. Neither was it the reeking smell that seemed to hung in the air for good. I blinked my eyes three times just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Or maybe I was dreaming and in this particular dream I wasn't supposed to know I was dreaming. Possible, but still... The sight before me couldn't be my mother. Not in a million years would my mom wear a bloody apron. Add another million years for the cooking, and another for the ponytail.

I stood there, motionless. All my muscles paralyzed, jaw on the floor.

"Whoever you are possessing my mom's body, go away in the name of Jesus!" I exclaimed frantically.

"Cut it out, will you? Just help me here." She was whisking away a cloud of smelly smoke coming from a pan. Her ivory complexioned arms waving above.

"Eew," I blurted out, and pretended to gag while pinching my nose to block the smell. "Were you practicing witchcraft for real?" I teased in a weird voice. "Don't you want to at least enroll to Hogwarts or something? Just to be on the safe side? You could've destroyed the house, or worse, the whole neighborhood!"

"That's funny. And I thought you would be worried sick about me instead of the house. The least thing you could do is say thank you for me risking my life cooking you some nice dinner," she retorted smugly.

"Yea, that's the least thing I could do," I croaked, taking a seat opposite her. My poor nose got used to the repugnant smell after just a couple minutes but the sick feeling it stirred at the pit of my stomach remained. I fought the urge to puke, that would surely gross out the witch. "What do you want?" I asked point- blank.