Page 1 of Beautiful Nightmare

1

PRINCE

NEW ORLEANS IN THE 80S - AGE SEVEN

Ding-dong, can you hear me?

Can you feel me?

You’re going to die. Now, Mommy, die.

Ding-dong, can you see me?

Can you dance off the ledge?

JUMP!

Standingon top of the roof of our two-story family home, my eyes watch in delight as a cream sleep dress ripples in the air. The bright moon shines down upon us as long black hair billows around her expressionless face and her arms are lifted, not fighting, just falling. The New Orleans night is warm andhumid, while the fresh air enters my nose and feeds my lungs.

Goodbye,Mommy.

And at that exact moment,her free fall ends, her body meets the earth, and Mommy’s head finds one of the many large decorative stones in our backyard. A single crack echoes as red crimson trickles out of her nose, eyes still wide open. I watch her chest, not blinking once to make sure it is no longer rising with each breath. Smirking once satisfied, my gaze casually moves back to her head, and the same crimson begins to decorate the stone.

Thick gardens surround her, and tall hedges keep the area private; therefore, this is where Mommy will stay to rot.

ROT!

Her eyes become hollow,the whites falling into her sockets and leaving only a black cast. Her skin thins,becoming translucent, while her face caves in and her body deflates. Hundreds of tiny cream maggots crawl out of her orifices. Her eyes become filled with them, while others begin to crawl out of her nose. Long worms hang out of her ears, when I notice Mommy’s mouth drop open. You can’t see them at first; their long antennas are thin and impossible to identify at night, even with small garden lights illuminating her. But as their wings open, intricate dark gray and black designs mixed with white captivate my vision; beautiful moths begin to surround her. I could get distracted by the vision alone for hours.

Peering past them, I notice the once fresh, glistening blood on the stone is now dark and dried. Mommy’s thick raven hair is nothing more than thin strings, and the cream nightgown is tarnished as moths eat away at the silk.

Vines from the garden have laced themselves around her legs, taking her into the fold.

Good riddance to you, Mommy.

I hope you find no peace in death.

As you can no longer give me the shots that suppressed my thoughts, I am finally free.

Your endless need to control only ignited my hatred for you more. Instead of trying to understand the unknown, you suppressed your fear. Me.

An owl hoots; it vibrates through my body. I can feel everything so much more clearly now.

The moths follow, rising with flapping their wings, gathered into a ball of fury above Mommy.

Enough!

The moths flock toward me.Their wings tickle my skin as they rush past me in droves. I lift my arms as they pass. A part of me wishes they could take me with them, lift me high above the ground, and float away. But my work here is still not complete.

The cooling breeze dissipates. The beautiful creatures are gone, and I am once again alone.

Leaving Mommy, I turn around and retrace my steps back inside the house. The slate shingles crunch under my slippers, then I bend my knees and slowly shimmy down the slanted roof. Soon I am met with a flat landing that wraps around the entire house. My legs shake, relaxing from the tense moments before bracing myself on the way down.

The gabled window is still open. I kneel, sliding back through it, and immediately I am greeted by aloud banging noise. Daddy. He is locked in my bedroom.

The house echoes with his antics.

Daddyis a doctor for the criminally insane. He has opened asylums across the country, most recently in Sutton, North Carolina.