When I lost my mother in the store, I was only three years old. I can't remember what happened but I still wake up in a sweat most nights, an innate sense of abandonment, as though I have been on a mission to the moon, stepped outside the spaceship for a walk across the lunar landscape and left behind. Terror.
Mother never recovered from her fear. She spent the rest of my childhood in a daze from a mix of prescription pill cocktails, agrophobia and alcohol. Dangerous combinations.
She was currently in a secure medical facility, unrecognisable from the pretty woman in the photos.
Gina, my second wife, was more patient than my first who did not understand children so my early trauma wasn't in her agenda as a trophy wife. Even so, I expected Gina to also leave before long.
She did seem to be late most nights coming to bed and getting up very early and didn't seem to be that interested in talking to me like before. Telling me I was paranoid.
I know the signs. I must do something to keep her with me. I bite her neck.
As Count Dracula's ancestor I know what needs to be done.
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Anglea (joined almost 11 years ago)
Six minute story is brilliant as a daily mental excercise to write on a variety of topics. It involves a lot of trial and error before I finish in the given time.
I am often surprised which of my stories receive the most views, often those I planned to delete.
COPYRIGHT - please contact me in advance via a recent story page if you wish to use my stories in anyway.
A digital animation has been made from one of my stories
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fear fantasy flash fiction abandonment