She loves me, right? [Pt3]

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I looked up at the building to where I live. The rain clawed at the remains of my front door as I gape at the rest of the cardboard sail away. The only thing keeping the rest of the building secure and standing were the thick black bars that webbed it’s ways through the windows.

The powerful smell of rotting meat struck me as I cross the threshold of my humble abode. I left the mobile phone on what I think might have been a pool of urine.
Do the walls get lonely? They hadn’t seen a lick of paint in what may have been centuries.
Do the floors get tired? The weight of years worth of secrets made them frail. I wonder if  the ceiling judges me. The ceiling moved as I looked up at it. I can’t call to mind the last time I seen my actual ceiling, before being taken over by what were roaches to my understanding.

“Something wrong?”
Ah Maude. With her thick Russian accent. I turned round, looked down to be faced with Maude’s head, lazily covered with black material, letting loose the very few white wires of hairs she has left.
“No.”

Age had her bowed down, but the vigorous smell of filth, stale food, and faeces would never leave her side. Her face tough and cold. No expression. The layers of wrinkles built on her small face masked everything. Although the deep lines and liver spots mapped around her face tell a different story. Lips lined straight, nose long and pointy. Eyes black and lifeless cloaked heavily with excess skin. You can hardly see her eyes. There was only one thing that stood clean and pure. Her nose ornament. I’d crave to touch it. Her small frame shuffled around me until she passed from sight into the hallway. Whatever she mutters in Russian all the time trailed behind her.

I never had a mom. Maude is my mom. Maude says my mom had the same nose ornament. Maude found me 18 years ago at the very place I’m standing. She told she would tend to me. She would look after and mind my needs. My veins had been pumped with heroin, my blood was thirsty. As life was rising out of my chest, Maude came and asked “Something wrong?”

Home is where Maude always is. Maude wont be found anywhere else. I always feel her here. She senses me when I’m stood here. She comes to me, and I follow. I won’t feel her anywhere else. She never talks to anyone else. Family and friends are unheard of. She tells me she was sent for just me alone. But that’s only because she loves me.

I’m just incapable of loving her.

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  1. June 6, 2015 / 8:33 pm

    This story was like a movie…..you made it very easy to visualize.

  2. June 7, 2015 / 6:33 am

    I’m so glad you asked. Is it okay to assume you’ll be the one of the first to read the next chapter to find out? 🙂

  3. June 7, 2015 / 6:04 pm

    This was very moving. Good descriptions, excellent development. I just sort of accepted the incapability. Thanks for sharing.

  4. June 9, 2015 / 3:10 pm

    Just stopped by. What I read must come from your heart. I will be back.

    • June 9, 2015 / 5:38 pm

      You’re the first person to ever say that to me. Thank you so much stopping by.

  5. June 10, 2015 / 9:44 am

    The strokes with which you paint your dark dreams are amazing indeed…

  6. June 12, 2015 / 11:53 pm

    Nice work. You definitely have the writing gift.

    • June 13, 2015 / 8:54 am

      Thank you so much, I really appreciate you taking the time out to even read a small portion of the Internet which is mine.

  7. June 18, 2015 / 2:14 am

    Wow this is quite moving. Nice work i must confess.. Thumbs up

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