One…cold, chilling night, there was a young country boy. He was sick, waiting for his demise in the unforgiving cold. He was wearing ripped up pants, and a brown, worn shirt. The poor young boy was freezing. His parents, dead…nothing for him to do, he was to die. But just then, as the chilling breeze rolled down his spine, he noticed a cottage nearby.
You must login to vote
His parents had just died five minutes ago, wolves. Yet all he could think about was how cold it was. He just got out of the woods, “thank god” he said... Attempting to see through the darkness, looking out for a wolf. Ready to run, yet his legs felt incapacitated from the brisk cold. He watched…
He left his position for the cottage. It looked far. There was a shortcut through the woods but he wouldn’t go anywhere near the woods in his condition. He started walking towards the cottage.
He reached the cottage roughly an hour later in a daze. He did not feel anything, totally numb. He walked into the cottage and was dazzled to see a fireplace with a lit fire. He sat by the fire to warm up.
About 20 minutes later, he felt warm enough to walk again. He walked upstairs, and went into a bedroom. “Is anyone here?” he yelled. No answer. He needed clothing, so he looked into a drawer. It was full of clothes, he tried them all on. For some unapparent reason, they all fit him perfectly. Yet, he thought “if this house if fully furnished, full of clothes…and everything is present, why is no one here?” there was no signs of anyone ever being there, the cupboard was full of quality food, and there was only one bedroom with clothes that all fit him perfectly. It is as if some one has set it up for him.
He put on clothes and sat by the fire. Yet he was still very puzzled about his situation.
Suddenly, in a flash, he saw a shadow. “Is anyone there?” he asked. He was sitting on a large, very comfortable chair, facing the fire. The shadow he had just send was in front of him, so whatever it was that made the shadow, was behind him. He promptly looked behind him, nothing, and nothing at all. He became very frightened and ran upstairs. He went into the bedroom. He sat on the bed and continued looking at the mirror to his left on the closet. He looked pale yellow, as if he had just seen a ghost.
Now, let us go back in time, to when his parents died. He was in his room, in the huge, beautiful mansion he once lived in. relaxed, carefree, everything was great. His father went out to get firewood in the nearby forest. His mother was cooking in the kitchen. “It has been hours already, where is Michael?” she said worried about the father. “Jonathan! Go look for your father!” she ordered the boy. He immediately went out into the woods to look for his father. It was freezing, but he was wearing a large, warm coat. A few minutes later, the mother heard a shriek, but not an ordinary shriek, a shriek of terror. “Sheila! Help!” she heard coming from the woods. She ran out to see what had happened, to her extreme fright, she found Michael dead, ripped up and torn. Jonathan’s clothes were torn and ripped, and he explained what happened. All of a sudden, they heard a soft growl. They looked back and saw three large wolves, ready to kill. They ran faster than they had ever run before, then the boy tripped, his mother tried to help him up, but by then, the wolves had already caught up with them. Then, the boy, out of selfishness, he threw his mother to the ground and ran away, leaving his mother to die, violently.
As he continued staring at the mirror, he began to think, to think about his parents, and how they died. He began to cry, as he was sobbing in sorrow, he, once again, saw a shadow pass by the corner of his right eye. He looked, yet saw nothing. “What’s going on here?” he thought. Then, he looked back at the mirror, suddenly, to his horror, he saw the face…
He saw the face, and was horrified, to see this bleak, terrorizing apparition. He realized that this person, this ghost, this figure, was no other than his mother. She looked sad, as if she had been wronged. When he realized the horror of what he had done, he went into the kitchen, pulled out a meat cleaver, and slit his own sinful throat, and left him self, there, on the floor, to die...painfully.
So there you have it folks, Jonathan killed his own mother, and what he saw was not even real….the boy never even made it to the cottage in the first place; he had actually died minutes after his mother did. The cottage though, it was real. But not as he saw it, it was over a hundred and fifty years old. Many evil spirits lurked in it, but he was dead…it didn’t even matter. All his torment, his terror, his agony, was all because he killed his mother. He just came back, his mother didn’t…