This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 7; the seventh edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.




“Please, please leave me. I…I...I’ll do whatever you want me to, please”
“Anything I ask you to? Can you mend my broken heart?” Her monotonous whines resonated with the refrigerator in the corner. Static.
“Roger that, dispatch unit 3 to Route 47” Static.
“You were the first person to smile when I cried for the first time; you were the first person to get amused by my pain”
“I…I…” she fell down onto the floor, there was blood everywhere.
The wind made eerie noise, and the air smelled of rain.
“Unit 47, Over. Route 3. Roger that”

“You need to die; I’ll dig your intestines out” Static.
“No... N..n… no!.”
“Say goodbye!”
“Route 47 to unit 3, dispatch Roger”.
“Noooooooooo!”
“Bye.. Bye!”. Boiling hot oil burned the skin, thick, short fumes made their way up from the skin.
“Roger, roger”

“I…I… I am your, mo…” she stopped talking. The curtain rose up in the air, the wind made it dance. Static. Was it lightning?
Flash. Static. The police!
“Rest in peace, Momma!”
_________________________________________________________________________

“Momma!”
I let out a small breath; I could hear my own heart beat.
“Momma!”, no answer.

The police! I had to hide, I killed my Mom. The room was shaking or was I? The police. Shit, I have to run. I took on my heels in a moment and opened my room’s door to make an exit, only to be surprised. At the place where previously a hallway used to be there was nothing.  The whole area under my eye’s vision was empty except for the sun far above, whose piercing rays targeted my eyes. The height made me dizzy. I closed the door. The room transformed itself into a mass of nothingness, there was darkness everywhere, and there was no sun, no moon and also no stars.  Emptiness with darkness flexed my bowel muscles.
“Anybody there?”
I couldn’t hear myself. Was I dead?
Suddenly out of nowhere a door popped out, there were a lot of people coming out of it and going in, but all of them existed only at the point where the door was open, later they disappeared mysteriously.

“Hello! Help me!” No answer and the door was closing. I ran with all my might towards the door, the people at the doorway were my only hope. It was then I realized that I wasn’t running, but instead the door was coming towards me. And I didn’t even stand on ground, I felt weightless and I wasn’t floating in air. The door came nearer and nearer and finally I could come within its reach. The door didn’t have a knob; actually it was just a big plain block of wood. All of a sudden it creaked open, I could see men women and children, just for a fraction of a second, at the point they were passing the doorway. They started to frighten me. I garnered courage and jumped inside.

And the very next moment I found myself staring at a yellow spotted commode, with its stench detectable even from three miles away. The room was small, barely enough for a full grown man. But where were those mysterious people? The door creaked again.
“Dad!”, his face looked blank.
“Dad? Where’s Mom?”
“She’s with you son, the part that was left behind to revenge her death is with you son, you sick…”
“What?”

“You”, he took his hand from his pocket and pointed it towards me. The room started fading away; the stretched hand became more and more prominent. It was not a hand, it was bone with pieces of rotten meat and blistered pustules. His skin started sinking into his skeleton, with the passage of every moment there was a tremendous increase in terror.
“You”, the room started spinning faster, what was left of it was nothing else but a blur. My father’s size increased, blood started spurting out, and there was only some meat and bone. The room started to smell of rot.
“Decay, my son, decay is what you will become”
The room started spinning out of control, I was no more a part of it, I was thrown out.

_____________________________________________________________________________

The neon lights spelled “Meat’s Inn”. The ‘N’ was flickering, creating an ultrasonic buzz. Surprising there was nothing but a mountain of garbage. Static.
“Possible homicide in Meat’s, roger that”
The flickering light made noise in the cacophonic levels. A few feet away a house lay strewn in the pile of garbage. Its insides were full of blood. The brain matter was full of flies; their buzz only increased the pain in the head.

“Roger, roger possible home suicide, meat that”
The intestines made their way out from the now maggot ridden abdomen, all over to the ceiling from which they ended up into the decapitated head. There was this yellow matter coming from the nose and the ears.
“Unit 43, unit 43 come over”
The light flickered; the room was the garbage mountain. The head rested in the toilet seat.
Unit 43 didn’t exist.

“Possible double homicide, call the garbage vans, roger that”
The filament burned up, the sign now read “Meat’s In”
__________________________________________________________________

“Where’s my Momma?”
No one replied, they were all busy but none of them had the time to spend with me.
I decided to find Momma. I stood in the bus stop waiting for the bus. Finally it arrived; the board read “Meat’s Inn”. The driver didn’t have a hand; the bus was empty minus the old woman in the corner. I had to find the truth; I was in a perpetual state of constant anomaly. The mirror didn’t matter anymore; I wanted to find the truth behind the lies. The bus stopped. The driver jumped out and pushed the bus from behind, the bus accelerated to higher level. The same old blur and before I could complain, “Meat’s In” arrived.
The place seemed familiar. The garbage mountain was still prominent. There was an hag near the bottom of the heap, taking a drag out of a cigarette.

“It’s unlit”
“Does it matter?” In a desert, the water demands respect.
“I want to ask something”
“I’m not a whore”
“I didn’t mean tha…”
“I want a dog’s bone”
“Wha…”
“Nothing else will do”

“Okay then, I’ll get you one, once you answer my questions”
“What are they?”
“Has there been something bad here lately? Something which shouldn’t have happened?”
“Yes”
“What is it?”
“I got infected by leprosy”
A leper? A fuckin’ leper?
“No, no I mean anything like a murder”
“Who are you?”
“I am looking for my mother”
“A family rented that house a few months ago”, she said pointing to a house a few feet away.
“Three of them were murdered, the fourth one’s head was found in a toilet seat on the top of the garbage pile” she said pointing upwards.
There was nothing else but deep, dark blackness.
“Momma!”


___________________________________________________________________

“Doctor, the patient is reacting very violently, your assistance is needed”
“Coming there in a minute”.
The nurse started patting me on the back,
“Everything’s going to be all right”
Gradually her fingers started growing in size; claws came out from her fingers, her face morphed into the old woman’s.
“I got you!”
“Nooooooo!”
“Momma!, I want you, Momma”.
“Tie him, push the needle harder” The doctor was a giant. Their collective laughter created a demonic atmosphere.
“You lose it son, rest in peace”
Their laughter became uncontrollable, the room started spinning, intestines were spread all over the room, I was bathing in the brains.
“Momma!”


___________________________________________________________________

What if I really killed my Momma? Static.
“Roger that”
“Momma!”

                                                                ***The End***


[Note: For all those who didn't understand this post, the basic plot is a dream sequence,the line between the real life and dream life is so thin that the protagonist isn't able to differentiate between the two. Murder is a strong psychological disruption. A murder out of hate or haste brings with it many implications and emotional imbalance previously unknown to the murderer. Psychosis generally prevails in the weak in these conditions, an utter chaos in life is inevitable. But the guilt of committing a murder and witnessing the dying man's last moments can generally lead to insanity and the murderer often searches for redemption]



  • The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.