Corruption

Purple and Orange

It was a brisk snowy day outside, while Mother brewed tea on the kettle. It started out ordinary, I suppose, yet extraordinary at the same time. One can never tell if one's life is going to end so suddenly, like a flame that ran out of fuel. When I was a young boy, I thought my parents were immortal. That is, until my father died 20 winters ago when I was 5. Now, I aid my mother in her final days on this earth. I head outside, putting on a hat to cover my raven hair from the snow. I begin walking when I find oddly shaped paw prints with 9 toes. It seems as if-no, it couldn't be...one of them? Horrified, I looked behind myself. I found one of my tormentors- the Purple Bear. He always bullied me and scared me as a child. Having schizophrenia, he seems real to me, but all of them tell me he isn't. He seems so real though. I reached out to touch him- but alas, my hand went through him. He grinned at me, his bloody fangs showing through his torn lips. Kill her. Who was that? Purple? Kill your mother. Hahahaha are you too weak? No I don't want to kill her...stop she's good. Do it and you will be doing some good in life for once. I took my knife out and walked back to my house, shivering. But I was astounded, as my mother pointed a knife at me.

-•-
"P-Patrick..." My mother's eyes rolled back to her head. "You were never my son." She grinned, showing sharp fangs with brown stains tinted on them, "You made me up. I'm just one of your visions, dear. No one actually loves you." What? This doesn't make sense...I-I love my mom...she's real, right? As she staggered towards me, I heard a knock on the door. "Hello?!" Knock knock KNOCK. Alas, I could not move, for the monstrosity was in my path. Without further ado, the door burst open, and out came a teenage woman. She had light red hair with a blue leather jacket zipped up with her long hair flowing freely. She had a pistol raised towards my "mother". "Patrick. Walk out the door. Now." I did as I was told, not looking back as I heard the deafening shot of the pistol. My mother died, and it didn't bother me at all. I saw blood flowing down out hill. But I didn't care. Didn't like her anyways! Orange? Hello! It'll be fine, Pat, she seems nice! Orange was my talking ginger cat, who was usually really kind and gentle to me, especially when Purple or Blue mess with me. The woman walked out, looked me over, and said, "Hey. You must be confused. I promise it will all be okay."