The Power Outage
Your heart jumps as a loud metallic buzz finds your ears. The DVD you've been staring intently at for the past half hour cuts to black, leaving you staring at your dark reflection within the TV screen.
As with most young children, you are no stranger to the noxious dread brought on by a pitch black room. Still too young to understand why the power has failed; you barely understand the concept of electricity at all, you quickly begin to panic. You shakily pull your knees up to your tiny chest, and begin rocking yourself gently.
"Mommy..." You mutter, softly at first. You know you need to stay quiet.
You are far too afraid of riling any of the imaginary boogeymen who now roam freely around the room. But as the shadows and trepidation begin to toy with your mind, your cries grow progressively louder.
After all, only she can save you now.
"Mommy!" You finally scream, before burying your head in your lap. Tear drizzle past your eyelids, and you shake some more.
A loud crash instinctively forces you into a stand. With a hushed shriek, you dash out of the living area and towards your mother's room. Now desperate for the safety only she can provide.
Forgetting to knock out of pure terror, you instead push your way in. The figure of a woman is silhouetted against the window by little more than moonlight. Your beloved mother. Your tears begin to let up a bit at the mere sight of her. Instantly, you rush forward and embrace her.
"Mommy, I was so afraid." You whimper, clutching the fabric of your mother's frock tighter beneath your small fingers.
Still shivering, you wipe the tears from your eyes as the figure embraces you back.
Until her grip, is uncomfortably tight.
A new kind of discomfort floods your veins. One that easily manages to dwarf the blackout.
Do you know that feeling you get? When the gooseflesh finds your arm, a chill runs down your spine. The hair on the back of your neck stands upright as you realize what is about to happen.
What fate has in store for you.
That you've made a huge and horrible mistake.
With excruciating slowness, the figure bends forward and whispers in your ear:
"I'm not your mother."