Back
During my childhood, celebratory dates
Across the calendar are memories
Fraught with misery
Mother celebrated nothing
To her, anything joyous brought evil
Especially Halloween
Christmas, birthdays, held no joy in our house
Mother has gone, I’m carving my first pumpkin
I feel a chill run across the floor
Holding my bare feet in an icy grip
Placing the knife on the worktop
I went in search of my slippers
Returning to the kitchen, the pumpkin
Lay in two halves, the knife missing
In the darkness of the kitchen window
I could see the image of my mother
My knife plunged into her heart
I could hear her voice
“This is how you bring me back
Feeding the evil that surrounds you…”
Her image disappeared as quickly as it came
Looking again at the kitchen worktop
There was nothing amiss
I could not finish carving the pumpkin
And spent the rest of the night
With the curtains closed and the lights out…
©anitadawes
Leave a Reply