There was something about Mama’s velvety southern drawl, that made everything she said as cool and soothing as Noxeema on a sunburn.
I don’t know if it was her elongated vowels, the softness of her consonants, or her soft, vanilla scented arms around me, but no matter how real the monsters were to me, when Mama said, “They ain’t nothin’ unda the bed, shugga. Monstas ain’t real”, in that moment, I believed her.
Of course, as soon as she thought I was asleep, and slipped out the bedroom door, I would go rigid in the center of my little twin bed, waiting for the long bony arms to emerge once more, one on each side, followed by the feather-light touch of icy fingertips as they fluttered almost imperceptibly up the length of my body, finally encircling my throat- making it impossible for me to…
View original post 205 more words
Categories: BrewNSpew Shares