Blanket Jackson Mother Novels & Stories

And he pulled my face back so he could look at me. "You took care of them?" He asked. And I nodded my head. "Me and the warriors. We took care of them. But...but...mom." I sobbed. "What about your mother?" He asked. "She showed up. It's a long story...Jackson, she's dead." I sobbed with more tears spilling from my eyes. And I could tell that he didn't know what to say to me after that. He pulled me back into his embrace.

"Listen to me, Athena. A woman like you was never good enough for me. Without money or power, let's see how long you survive without me. "And don't even think about taking Jackson. Custody of him belongs to me. I won't let him grow up trapped in the same miserable life you're heading toward." Just then, Jackson rushed over and clung to Mason's leg, his voice ringing out, "Only someone as gentle and kind as Ms. Moore deserves to be Dad's wife. She plays the piano and teaches me how to swim, unlike you, who can't do anything! "You're never going to be my mom again. Get out of our house!"

My mother, Sophie Nash, was also my homeroom teacher, and she loved nothing more than using me to assert her authority. She was convinced that the worse off I was, the more afraid my classmates would be, and the higher her authority would be. Once, when I passed an eraser to a classmate during class, she slapped me so hard across the face in front of the whole class that my face swelled up. Another time, after I secretly ate a crumb of a classmate’s snack during recess, my mom dragged me up to the front of the classroom and pricked my lip with a needle until blood gushed out. Later, when a classmate was caught by the vice principal for having a romantic relationship while underaged, my m

As I entered their living room, I saw Amelia crying on her mother's thighs as she sat beside her mother like a baby, and her mother was trying to pet her to stop crying, promising her that she would get her revenge on Natalie. Mrs. Jackson glared at me as she saw me enter the living room. She was wearing a native brown gown and looking beautiful like her daughter, since she hadn't aged at all. Still looking the same, fair and pretty, as she was a tall, beautiful woman. "Good morning, Ma'am. Good morning, sir," I greeted Mr. and Mrs. Jackson. After entering their living room, I stood like a lost sheep in their presence. They looked at me angrily and quieted down.

I think for the first time in my life I could say that I am standing behind my mother’s words and that I would like to know all those answers as well, but as I was looking at my mate I had a feeling the answer would not come from him since all he was doing at the moment was looking at the man whose name was Jackson if the gathered information were correct, and he was opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of the water. As minutes went by, I was getting more and more nervous and so was my mother if her tapping foot was any indicator, thank God, Jackson decided it was time to speak up and end our misery, “Dear wife. I was sure I did not know anyone in this pack even though your daughter

The Lancasters resided in a small, three-bedroom condo in down- town Jacksonville. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for them. Jasmine was 16 and set to start her junior year in high school. She had medium, dark skin with brown eyes and cinnamon brown hair. Some of her finer facial features came from her father, so said her mother, but as she had not a memory of him, she didn’t particularly care. Most teenaged girls would be a bit rebellious towards their mothers, Jasmine, on the other hand, admired her mother above all else. When her mother had been pregnant with her sister Chavon, their father had left without a word or single dollar of support. Instead of breaking down as a lot of women w

As if the space was empty, even though it was filled with people. Jackson’s mother was the first to greet them. She was a striking woman, tall and composed, her presence commanding without a word. She stood at the top of the grand staircase, her eyes locked on Savannah the moment she entered. There was no warmth in her expression, only cold calculation. “Jackson,” she said, her voice clipped, barely a whisper above the sound of the piano. Jackson’s response was equally cool. “Mother.” He glanced at Savannah, then back to his mother. “This is Savannah. My wife.”

Jackson wasn't too surprised either; he replied softly, "Impossible. The dead cannot be resurrected. It's too illusory," This Hana once wanted to tell Jackson but ultimately chose to remain silent. Because she knew, at that point, Jackson wouldn't hear these words. His mother's death was a black dot on the white paper, forever memorable in Jackson's heart. "You keep killing your stepmother?" Hana asked curiously. Jackson glanced at Hana and replied, "Probably not," "Ohh," Hana asked with a laugh. "Why is that?" "Luckily, she gave birth to a good daughter," Jackson replied.

Jackson froze, his eyes widened in disbelief: "Mom, what did you just say?" Mrs. Milton looked at him coldly: "Son, this is the last time I’ll call you that. I carried you for ten months and raised you with your father, not to see you become heartless. From today, I sever all ties with you. From now on, you can do whatever you like." Jackson was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing: "You old woman, you’ve really gone crazy! I come to give you money, and you want to sever our relationship? Mary was right, you’re really stubborn!"

However, Jackson had a bad memory associated with his mother, so she always assumed that the word 'Mom' was a forbidden word to him. Jackson sighed as he watched her eyes widen in shock. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her waist. "My mother abandoned me when I was a child. I've always associated the word 'Mom' with hatred. I never thought I'd use the word again, but Serenity… You showed me what it's like to have a mother. It's really heartwarming for me."