When Mama Told Me When I Was Young Novels & Stories

What the hell was she on about, different worlds and races. I looked at the end again ‘Never tell.’ A memory niggled at the edge of my mind, my Mum lay bleeding, pain in her eyes and whispering the words so softly that only I could hear them. The memory morphed into one I had seen before, the old man on his knees his voice fierce as he told me to never tell.

I watch my young self gulp with worry. “That’s right. But they’re nothing for you to worry yourself over, my love,” my mother turns to face the child, “-they’re long gone and forgotten with time.” “Are you sure?” the little girl murmurs. “I’m sure.” “So, what happened then?” my younger self diverts their attention back towards the story, satisfied with her mother's answer.

I didn't want those people to come and know that she's still alive. Mama opened her eyes slowly and she looked very weak. I was so happy that I began to cry. Mama smiled a bitter smile and touched my tearful cheek. "Don't cry, my boy," she said weakly. "Mama what happened?" I asked sniffing. "Ahhh be quiet" mama cautions since my voice was a bit loud. I nodded severally. "Listen carefully to what I want to say to you today, Bounce," she said weakly. I had to move my ears closer to hers so I could hear what she was trying to tell me. My heart was shattered in pieces that tears couldn't stop flowing as I saw my ever frivolous mama who was too weak to talk.

I’m a… No way! "Come here, my dear," she ordered and held me by my shoulders. I stood up, and she led me to the couch, which was looking so expensive. "Sit. I need to tell you everything," she spoke, and her face turned into something serious. "Okay," I mumbled and took a seat beside her. Geez, now I'm feeling so nervous. It’s time to know the truth. --- After my mother told me everything, I have learned that I was born 239 years ago.

It was so easy for her. "You will forget about him as soon as you meet someone else... You are still very young and exaggerate everything, including such infatuations. It is no great love."- I remembered the words my mother said the day we left California. She kept telling me that I exaggerate everything like a typical teenager, adding that understood it because she was also like me once - young and silly.

“You’re not my mother.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to tell myself or her. “My mother is dead. She died when I was eight years old.” I bit my bottom lip to keep them from trembling. “My dad killed her. He told me himself so don’t even think that for a second that I believe you.”

Jaclyn's POV Mama always said I was born on the night the Wild South was on fire over nineteen years ago. She didn't quite know if it was before she went into labour or after, but she had made it a tradition to retell the tale as often as she could since then.

Today of all days, I should have known it would be from Mama. Mama: Happy Birthday, my Sweet Pea!!! Daddy and I can’t wait to see you at breakfast today! I love you… bigger than Pi is infinite! A tear slips out of my eye while reading her text message. Mama always knows how to make me feel loved. When she uses our love phrase, the one we’ve had for as long as I can remember, it makes me feel like a carefree kid again. Back when I used to enjoy the early mornings; the adventure of a new day and what I could learn from it.

It was one of her comfort potions whenever she had dysmenorrhea, or whenever she was stressed. "Mom, you do realize that I'm already a family man now, right?" Ira chuckled, yanking his mother's hand away from his face. "Please stop squeezing my cheek as if I'm still your five-year-old errand boy." "I know, I know," said Helena, tapping his jaw gently. "Nice to see you again, Miguel," his father greeted him, too. That was the latter's pet name for Ira. "Hey, dad. I'm sorry we came late for the family breakfast."

Few memories could never be erased. My thatha told many incidents about my mama obsession. I never left his side till my age ten as I always wanted to be around him. And once I even walked to his school from my third standard - lunch break and sat in his classroom for the rest of the day. My parents almost went to give police complaints about me missing. And that day, my amma hit me with a broom until it couldn't be used anymore. That's my first and worst memory of getting hit by her.