Surviving My Mother's Shadow

There it was again. Tapping at my window gently, but with determination as they talked to me with that sickly sweet voice. That voice that I had once thought I wanted to hear again. But now? Now I wish that I couldn’t. After all, it wasn’t right. It wasn’t right that I was hearing it after all this time. That voice. Her voice.

I wanted to say to myself that I was just imagining it. But it wasn’t like those times in the past. It was much more real. It’s voice so much more vivid and loud. Not like those times where I had thought I heard something, only to be disappointed when I found that it had just been wishful thinking. An impossible promise.

And it wasn’t just the voice that made it more real. It was the rush of emotions that came to my surface. The emotions where my heart jumped to my throat. And that voice. That voice sounded just like her’s.

That voice used to be a beacon of joy and comfort. But now, all it did was send shivers of anxiety throughout my entire body. Sending that feeling of dread and wrongness.

Caleb.

The voice outside my window said in a gentle, loving, feminine voice. My mother’s voice.

Please let me in. It’s cold outside.

I was going to do no such there. There was a reason I had my dad install the metal security bars to my window and drew the thick, black curtains closed. There was a reason a line of salt had been poured at the windowsill. All those reasons were for one simple purpose, and it wasn’t because I wanted something to come inside. No. It was to keep things out and prevent them from seeing inside. But it didn’t stop them from trying. It didn’t stop them from trying to persuade me into opening my window. Opening the front door of the house. Or the back. Or the garage. All so that they could get inside. So that it could get to me.

They continued to try their luck, telling me how miserable it was outside and how they wished to come inside. Come inside as to gain some semblance of comfort. And indeed, it was miserable outside. The season of fall had just begun and I could hear the wet crunching of soggy leaves underneath something heavy as the rain water pelting the roof of the house and it’s surroundings. The wind blew past, creating a sudden surge of downpour to beat down heavily on the house to emphasize just how bad it was outside.

Please.

It begged as it gently slapped the wet window.

Caleb, please. It’s dark and cold outside. And I’m all wet. Won’t you please let me in?

No answer was given to it. No move on my part to help it by opening the window.

Instead, I looked around my room and thought of everything that was around me. The overhead bulbs bathing the room in light and showing off all the dream catchers that hung from the ceiling by string and the crucifixes that were nailed to the walls and the fading, crimson symbols that have been smeared on sheets of paper. Some store bought and professionally made. Most of them crafted at home by me. Especially the painted symbols. All of those were made by me as no store carried such things.

All those things were here to keep it out. Out of my room and away from me just in case it made it past the window security bars and the line of salt.

Why are you ignoring me, Caleb?

It asked with a hint of anger in their voice. Much like a mother that was starting to get irritated by their son not listening to them.

Why aren’t you talking to me? I know you’re in there.

I wondered how long they had tried to get me into cooperating with them.

Glancing at the digital clock that lay by my bed, with the dim glow of red numbers, I saw that it was much later than anyone of solid mind should be outside, knocking on my window, asking for an invitation. Three thirty six in the morning. The sun had not yet have warming this part of the world on it’s mind.

I’m awake long after I should be asleep. Because for me, sleep is impossible. And it wasn’t because I wasn’t tired, for I was. I am so very tired. So tired that I can feel my eyes drooping as my body slumped, threatening to put me to sleep the second they fully close, only to be pulled from the promise of slumber right at the last moment.

It’s not because the lights in my room are on long past when they should be off.

I wasn’t awake because of the stimulating tobacco that was being inhaled into my lungs. It’s powerful effects spreading throughout my body and generating a gentle buzz. It’s acrid grey smoke was breathed out, creating a light, rolling fog that wafted through my room. The mild heat of the burning cigarette running between my fingers.

It wasn’t any of that. Instead, it was my fear that was keeping me awake. The fear of something that was making it’s presents known by knocking on the outside of my bedroom window. Lightly tapping against the glass that I was doing my best to ignore as it continued to coax me into obeying it’s orders. Orders that I wasn’t going to follow through with even if it were my last chance of free will action. There was no way that I was going to obey it.

Sucking on the cigarette, letting the end of the white cylinder glow a bright orange before I breathed in another helping of toxic vapour. Blowing it towards the window I hoped to discourage that of which was outside my window. It didn’t seem to mind the thin fog of acrid smoke as I heard it touch the glass again.

It’s me, Caleb, your mother.

It would say.

Let me in, baby. You don’t want me to freeze out here, do you?

I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to respond. I didn’t want to give it any cause to continue as I hoped that it’d give up and just leave me alone. That it would eventually learn that no matter what it said or what it did or whatever happened outside, I wasn’t going to let it in. And that was the simple truth. I was never going to let it in.

As the sound of wet streaks sounded throughout the room, the cause of which was a hand sliding against the rain pelted window, a batch of ash fell from the burning cigarette and landed on the open pages of the bible that I had on my lap. My eyes stared at the crumbled ash for a moment before I swept it off the paper and onto the wood floor.

Sticking the cigarette into the corner of my mouth, I read the words that were in front of me in silence, hoping that it would be enough to maybe detour the thing away from me. But of course, it wasn’t. It was never enough. No matter what I did, it’s voice continued to try and convince me to let it in. Never leaving when the darkness came.

I wanted to shout at it. Leave! Leave me alone! Leave leave leave! Please leave!

But just like everything else that I held in my room, my words wouldn’t make a difference. It never did.

Looking to the portable CD player I laid on my desk, I thought of going over to grab it so that I could slip my headphones over my head and blast some music into my ears in a desperate attempt to drown out that thing’s voice. But like it knew of when I did such a thing, it only got louder. Loud enough that I could hear it no matter how loud the music was. It would tell me to not ignore it, that it was rude and that I shouldn’t do such a thing to my mother.

This late at night, nobody was there to hear it. Dad was asleep and would never hear it’s ear piercing screams. Only me.

Not that Dad could seem to hear it anyway. Even when he was awake and near me, only I could hear the calls of the creature. It was like we had a connection to each other. A special connection that nobody else could have or understand. A binding that I couldn’t cut and one that it wouldn’t unravel.

There were times where I thought of opening my window and throwing things at it, hoping to hurt it enough that it wouldn’t try coaxing me into doing it’s deed anymore. But I was scared of what would happen if I dared open my window. What would I do once it got me to do what I had wanted it to do this entire time?

So I stayed where I was, sitting on the edge of my bed, reading random passages of the bible while I smoked until the cigarette had burned to the filter. I let the spent filter drop from my mouth to the floor without a care, lighting up a second one some time later. “Caleb,” the voice of my mother said again. Patient. Gentle. Just like she had always been.

Please let me in. It pleaded with it’s falsely saccharine voice.

Knowing that I wasn’t going to do such a thing, I continued to do my activities and did my best to ignore it, demanding my body to filter out it’s requests so that I could make it to the sunrise in one piece. For the only thing that came from it’s mouth were lies. Lies and nothing but, because while it said it was my mother and sounded like her, we both knew the truth.

My mother was dead.

Died years ago. Her body in full display with an open casket before it was closed, carried away, and lowered into the ground. Buried under six feet of dirt while people mourned over her. I remembered crying there more than I had ever cried before or since. My dad as well. My dad never cried. Not before, not since. Never even shed a tear or had a wounded look in his eyes. But he cried that day. It’s just another thing that stands out in my mind about the funeral.

And that thing... That thing, thought that I was going to be lured in by it’s tricks because it was using the voice of my mom. Because yes, I missed her dearly. Yes, I wanted her back. And yes, I had wanted to hear her voice again. I had wanted to hear something, anything, from her just to tell me that I had been dreaming and that the funeral hadn’t been real.

For her to arrive back home alive. For her to hug me. Hold me. Assure me that everything was alright and that nothing was as I had thought.

To wake up one morning and see her in the kitchen with that smile of her’s as she’d ask me if I had slept well. Ask me if I was going to be a good boy at school and what I planned for the day as the smell of the breakfast she prepared permeated the kitchen.

But nothing happened. Not until recently. Not until long past I had accepted my mother’s death and I knew that it wasn’t possible for my mother to come back.

It once again tried to convince me that it was my mother and that she’d like to see me. To hold me. I just had to let her in.

The voice. The voice sounded just like my mom and had the same kind of tone as well. But there was also something wrong with it. Something amiss that told me that it wasn’t truly that of who I wanted it to be. Because while it sounded exactly like my mom, it also seemed cold. Unnatural. Frightening.

And the aura that radiated from it. Dark. Dangerous. Bone chilling.

Nothing like my mother.

All it was was a pretender. An imitation of my mother’s voice. In spite of that, it was a good one. But none the less, it was fake. No way around it.

I heard it slide it’s hand across my window again, giving out a loud, groaning, wet streaking noise as it continued it’s persuasion.

Please, just go away.

Please, leave me alone.