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Maelstrom143, By Sun or Candlelight
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2010-05-06 02:31:37 (UTC)

The Good Mother - A Fairy Tale...of sorts.

She was a good mother. No one else could compare. It was
hard, keeping up with these children who ran all over the
place, demanding her attention and her concern when she
could barely keep her thoughts from crashing against her
skull and torturing her, terrifying her..."see the blood on
the walls?" "What do you mean that you don't see the flying
witch that is your grandmother?" 'How do you mean you cannot
see the little green aliens pacing in our living room?"
"what do you mean that no, your father is not having sex
with that young woman in the room? What do you mean what
young woman?" "Lucinda, you are a bad girl and a liar. I
know what I see with my own eyes!"
How could anyone do a good job under these conditions?
She fed them and clothed them, not always in the latest
styles, but at least they were dressed, right? So many
demands, so many needs...someone is sick, someone has a
tummy ache. So needy...why could not someone else take
them?! But no, the world out there was too scary, too full
of others, sick individuals who would harm her babies, abuse
them in the most horrible ways (and oh how very descriptive
she could become on this topic!), never would she give her
babies away to such certain horror and deaths.
Yes, she was prone to tantrums, screaming fits during which
her face contorted in horrible fashion, terrifying her young
ones and making them hope they were not the cause of her
anger. Sometimes she let fly with whatever was at
hand...didn't really matter if it was a knife, a book, a
piece of furniture, so long as she had something to throw.
The brush had caught Lucinda in the face on more than one
occasion.
She was a very clumsy child, always bruised and battered,
falling off stairs and crashing into doorjambs for lack of
attention.
No. Helena was a good mother. She made sure Lucinda minded
her. No, the urine in the container was just in case the
spanking was not enough to make Lucinda mind her. The raw rice?
Oh, posh! This is the way the old ones used to do to the
children to make them listen. If it was good enough for
them, it is good enough for us. Lucinda had spent countless
nights on her knees on top of the raw grains of rice, with
her arms out to the side, praying from the bible, the
rosary, and anything else Helena could think of as
appropriate punishment for Lucinda's numerous faults.
No. She was a such a good mother. No one could find one
better. And all her children would attest to this fact
without batting a lash.
She was a very good mother. You could not have asked for a
better, more devoted mother. How could anyone fault her?
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