A Mother’s Love

by on Aug.04, 2011, under Syndicated from the Web

Reposted from Rotting Flesh Radio | Go to Original Post

by: RFR Casket Crew Denise

Jack’s mother was sick. Sick of all of it. After a number of warnings and pleas, she knew she wasn’t being taken seriously. Now was the time to act. To take action.

A Mother's Love

A Mother's Love

Jackie paced around the small kitchen. She was absolutely furious. The magazine lay on the round wooden table turned to the back pages. Columns of ads adorn the two pages facing each other. One was circled in red. It was a simple ad. Just three simple words. ‘I can help.’ followed by a telephone number. Jackie left the kitchen.

Walking into the simple living room, Jackie sat heavily on the worn brown couch. A small blume of dust rose from the cushion. She hit the back of the couch and more dust rose up into the air before disbursing over the other seat cushions. She grabbed the TV remote and click the red button before the batteries fell out. The television hummed to life, but the sound of the soap opera didn’t ease the storm brewing in her heart nor the final decision racing through her thoughts.

Well, now was the time to do something about it. Jackie rose from the couch, slapped the button on the face of the TV and returned to the kitchen. She grabbed the magazine, folded it in half and walked to the corded phone hanging loosely on the yellow stained wall. She lifted the receiver and heard a distinct hum echo into the silent clean kitchen. Without hesitation, Jackie punched in the numbers and listened as the phone rang.

“Hello.” A gruff man’s voice answered on the third ring.

“Hello,” Jackie said weakly, “I need some help. I don’t know what else to do.”

“I can help,” the man reassured her.

Jackie talked with the unseen man for the next hour. She talked and he listened, interupting only to ask essential questions. Jackie answered them all. She gave him all the info. She even went to the corner store to fax a photo the man had requested.

Returning to the apartment, Jackie leaned against the front door. It groaned against her weight and she thought she heard a small crack. She sighed with relief. She had done it. She had hired a hit man.

Jackie returned to the living room and clicked on the TV. She sat down with satisfaction. Being a mother meant dishing out tough love sometimes. That’s just how it is. After all, Jack was warned not to fail another math test.

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