When my mother died, I would have given anything to have her back. But now she’s here I really don’t know what to think. She sits in her chair by the fire as she always did; but it’s just not the same any more.
Every morning I take her a cup of tea. I know she wants one, she always used to have one at this time of day. She won’t drink it, of course, but I do it for her anyway. A proper cup with a saucer. No mug for Mum, she was always very particular like that.
I really don’t know what to do. We can’t have visitors anymore and I miss having Mary round for coffee in the afternoon. I can’t keep going round to her house, it wouldn’t be fair to Mary, but it would be nice to have someone to talk to. It’s not fair to Jamie either. He can’t have his friends round to play, and I worry that he will say something to the teachers at school, or tell one of his friends that his grandma has come home. Then where would we be?
***
Jamie doesn’t like to sit in the same room as Mum. I think he’s afraid of her. He says the house smells funny now and it’s always cold. I’ve put a portable TV in his bedroom for now; the reception isn’t as good as the big set downstairs, but I don’t know what else we can do.
I spray air-freshener, but I’m worried about turning the heating up: in case it makes the smell worse.
When Mum first came back I thought everything would be normal and she’d go to bed at night and come downstairs in the morning, like she used to. But she doesn’t, she just sits there and stares at the television. The worst thing is that at night, when the lights and the TV are off, I know she is still sitting there, watching it.
Jamie has his meals in his bedroom now, but I don’t think he’s eating them, he looks so pale. Mum looks like she always did, comfortable in her favourite chair. I tried putting her knitting onto her lap, I even placed the needles in her hands, but they just fell out onto the floor.
I can’t be the only one, surely I can’t. This must have happened before. I’d get in touch with someone, but I don’t know who. Am I supposed to phone the police? Or an ambulance? Would I be in trouble for not calling them when she first came back? And there’s Jamie to think of. It’s bad enough for him now. It would be worse if everyone knew.
Children can be cruel. Everyone knows that.
***
I went into Jamie’s room today to get the washing. He should have been at school, but he was just sitting there, staring at the TV. He didn’t even notice that I’d come in until I said his name. He told me that he didn’t want to go to school, that he didn’t feel well. I didn’t argue, things are difficult for him right now and it might do him good to have a rest.
I’ll bring him up some soup, he’ll like that.
I told Mum about Jamie, and about how worried I am. She didn’t answer me, but I think she listened. I know she would have cared because they used to be so close; he cried his heart out at her funeral. I feel better after talking to her. It seems to have got something off my chest.
Perhaps I’ll go round to Mary’s for coffee, it seems like ages since I saw her.
***
Jamie left his soup; he said he wasn’t hungry. It’s a shame because it was tomato, with brown bread, just how he likes it. It was so cold in his room, the soup would have warmed him up. I’ll cover it and put it in the fridge, I can heat it up later if he changes his mind.
It was nice seeing Mary again, but I didn’t have much to say to her. I couldn’t talk to her about Mum or Jamie. I just listened while she talked about her life. She’s got a new boyfriend and she wasn’t interested in me. I suppose that’s a good thing really.
When I got home I made a cup of tea and sat down with Mum. I could have sworn that she’d moved her hands, and her head was tilted to the side, as though she wanted me to talk to her.
***
Jamie didn’t go to school today either. He looked small and grey, like a flower that’s withering. I thought that smell was starting to fade, but it seems to have got into Jamie’s room now, sort of dry and musty. He didn’t answer when I spoke to him, so I left him to his cartoons and went down to watch daytime soaps with Mum.
It was just like old times really. It’s nice to have someone to talk to, someone who listens. I’ve put her knitting back on her lap. I think she likes it there. I like it there.
***
An odd thing happened today. I’m sure I took Mum a proper cup of tea this morning, just like I always do. But later, I noticed that it was only half full, like she’d drunk some. I must have forgotten to fill it up properly; I’ve had so much on my mind recently, what with Jamie being ill. He never gets up now, just sits in bed watching TV.
I don’t know what I’m going to do.
I think I’ll make a cup of tea and talk to Mum again.
She’ll understand.
Lydia S Gray writes in Llanelli, UK.
GD Star Rating
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20 Responses to “IN RETURN • by Lydia S Gray”
Comments
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January 8th, 2012 at 4:33 am
I liked this immensely. The way the decay seems to be spreading reminds me a little of Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out Of Space”, though obviously with much cleaner, simpler prose.
January 8th, 2012 at 4:47 am
Weird, well-written, but too much left unanswered for my taste.
January 8th, 2012 at 5:24 am
Very well done. The title made it clear what was happening, with Mum returning to life as Jamie fades. I guess the protagonist can’t have it both ways.
January 8th, 2012 at 5:47 am
This is wonderful. Loved the passive, bewildered narrator, and the domesticity nicely contrasted and enhanced the underlying creepiness of the situation. Really effective, 5 stars.
January 8th, 2012 at 6:35 am
Incredible verisimilitude throughout the piece, but this line struck me as the most real: “I spray air-freshener, but I’m worried about turning the heating up: in case it makes the smell worse.”
January 8th, 2012 at 6:37 am
Wildly weird and entertaining. Don’t exactly know what to make of it, but I liked it in a scratch-your-head sort of way.
Hadn’t thought of it the way Erin (#3) did, but that sort of makes sense…sort of. There are no answers offered up as to the “whys” of what is happening, so its all left up to the reader to put their own spin on it. Personally, I’m thinking the MC will sit down to watch the telly with Mum someday and stay there forever, just like her.
Hmmmm…maybe it has something to do with the telly. Three plus stars…+
January 8th, 2012 at 6:58 am
I was keen to know how the grandmother was absorbing Jamie’s life-force but as the mum doesn’t even realise it’s happening, I suppose it’s unreasonable to expect her to explain it to the reader! An enjoyable ghost story.
January 8th, 2012 at 11:56 am
very horrific, and does the narrator really understand that Jamie’s dead as well?
good realistic detail. Narrator must be mentally ill -good illustration of schizoid dissociation.
January 8th, 2012 at 12:08 pm
A very good piece, IMO. Well done. When our loved ones depart we all wish to have them back, but sadly this is not the way things work–through wishing we are only harming ourselves with impossible yearnings, and that is how I saw the decay of the mother and the effect it had on the MC’s character. I liked the creepy aspect. The effect the corpse had on the woman’s life. Also, the idea that the MC’s has gone mad and her boy has also died is a chilling one. Bravo, Lydia.
January 8th, 2012 at 12:53 pm
Not ‘bad’ in any way, it just didn’t go anywhere for me. Crazy person has Mum propped up at home annnnd? And then she just kind of plays doll house with her. Nothing to get too interested in or worried about. Could’ve been creepy if she’d killed her mother and was trying to pretend she hadn’t, or was poisoning Jamie so ‘he would understand’ or something like that. But, as it is, it just didn’t really catch my attention. Sorry.
January 8th, 2012 at 6:36 pm
It’s always nice to see someone take a crack at horror, and even better when it works well like this piece. I found it quite atmospheric.
Like some of the other commentators I would have appreciated a bit more clarity as to what was REALLY happening, but all in all a solid little chiller.
January 8th, 2012 at 8:05 pm
Very creepy, in a “The Monkey’s Paw” kind of way. I thoroughly enjoyed this!
January 9th, 2012 at 4:03 am
Agree with Debi, the ‘Monkey’s Paw’ resonated with me too, and I thought it was all the creepier for the narrator being unaware of what was happening around her. Good stuff!
January 11th, 2012 at 3:39 pm
Super creepy and very well done.
January 15th, 2012 at 9:07 am
Loved this. It’s very creepy and it left me wondering one thing: why the boy? If the grandma had a choice in it, why drain the boy of life and not the narrator? I loved the subtlety here and how you convey the creepiest parts with implication only. Nicely done.
January 15th, 2012 at 12:34 pm
Maybe they’re all dead! …At least that was the impression I got.
Great story! Enjoyed the creepy vibe.
January 17th, 2012 at 8:06 pm
Did not relate to this story. I found it vague and disconnected. Discombobulated and strangely mystical using simple words and structure. Her dead mother and living son, but where was the narrators husband, the boys father, and the son, or son-in-law? Totally inward vignette in my opinion, obviously.
January 22nd, 2012 at 12:55 am
Oooh, I liked this. Very creepy and very sad.
February 1st, 2012 at 10:51 am
I really enjoyed this one. I think the unsettling truth (which I took to be that the [un]dead grandmother is leeching the life from the boy, but I like that other interpretations are possible) is revealed with just the right level of subtlety, uncertainty, and creepiness.
February 13th, 2012 at 11:30 am
Great, creepy story.