Short Stories

Favorite

    “Mother?” I asked.
    “Yes, my son?” she answered.
    “Tell me about the family you gave Jeremy to.”
    Mother is a surrogate. For as long as I can remember, she has had children for women that cannot. Most recently, she birthed a beautiful little boy named Jeremy. He had beautiful dark hair and skin and was never fussy. He never cried. I liked him a lot. I almost wish Mother could have kept him.
    “Well,” Mother began, “they were lovely. The had one other child they had adopted - a little girl - who was so very excited to be a big sister. They lived in a little house in the city and had this magnificent, white dog who had the most wonderful disposition. I do believe little Jeremy will be in good hands.”
    “That sounds so nice,” I said. “May we go visit him one day?”
    “Oh, darling,” she said, “I don’t believe that’s a good idea.”
    “What? Why?” I responded in shock.
    “Because, my beloved, he is not really my son. I simply carried him for another family,” she said. I laid my head on her hip and played with the fabric of he bright yellow sundress. She patted my head.
    “I love you, Mother,” I said.
    “I love you, too, my favorite son.”
    "But Mother, I'm your only son!"
    "That's what makes you my favorite!"
    A soft crying erupted from another part of the house. Mother had just had another little boy, Samuel, a few weeks ago. Mother said we still had him because his family was not ready for him yet.
    “I’ll be right back, my darling,” Mother said. She walked through the house to the nursery, where Samuel was.
    I sat at the kitchen table playing with my matchbox cars after I finished my breakfast.
    A while passed, and I began to become curious. ‘How is mother always able to quiet little ones?’ I wondered. After a while, my curiosity got the best of me.
    I tiptoed through the house to the nursery and peaked through the keyhole. Mother was gently rocking the child and singing a lullaby.
    “What a beautiful boy you are!” she said, smiling. Suddenly, her smile shifted from a loving one to a rather menacing one. “You’re going to make a good snack.”
    She clasped her hand around the infant’s neck. He screamed and cried so loudly. His little arms thrashed for a few moments until his fragile body went limp. I held back a gasp.
    She stood up and walked over to the changing table. She laid Samuel’s lifeless, little body down. She opened one of the drawers and reached into it. I sat there watching in complete shock. She walked back to the tiny corpse and pressed the blade against his little chest and pressed down. She sliced through his delicate skin and dragged in slowly to his little navel.
    She then opened another drawer and pulled out another knife. This one was not smooth like the other one; this one looked like it had teeth. She pressed it against his little sternum and pulled it up and down and up and down and up and down until crack! She took her hands and pulled his little ribs and spread them apart.
    She dug her fingers into him and plucked something from him.
    ‘His heart…’ I whispered.
    She held it between her fingers and smiled. She popped it into her mouth.
    “Hmm, you must be the most tasty yet!”
    I could not control myself any longer. I flung open the door.
    Before I could even speak, Mother’s head turned around completely, like an owl’s.
    “Oh, hello! Would you like to join me, my favorite son?” she said, her teeth stained red with little Samuel’s blood.