(A/N: Before you ask, yes--this is a true story.)
The hospital room was desolate and bare. I paid no attention to my surroundings, though, as I spied the restrained woman on the bed. My feet were frozen as I gawked at a woman I thought could never be touched by the Devil. The brain cancer stole her strength, knocking her down and stealing her natural feminine beauty in the process. Chemotherapy is a beast that wreaks havoc on your hair follicles, never allowing them to return. The woman in front of me was bald: my own mother...bald?
At the simple-minded age of 9-years-old, I could not register the scary and deadly things happening to my mother. Her hair, to me, had just simply disappeared; her thinning collar bones were just a side effect of life; her constant migraines were just a coincidence. Nothing--at least I thought--could happen to my mother other than cheerful happenings.
The small, thinning gray hairs lied still on my mother's scarred head. She seemed to look up at me with something beyond motherly love. Desperation was the emotion I could detect in her pupils. She was not physically begging for help, but I could sense her vibes in the air. She did not want me to see her like this: weak and ugly.
She turned her head away from me, hiding her eyes from her own child. She did not speak, and I did not move.
YOU ARE READING
Lotuslands All Die (A Collection)
Short StoryJust as the title says, this booklet is a collection of poems and short stories I have written and wish to publish to my devoted followers. Please comment or let me know how you felt about any of my works--it is greatly appreciated!
