Image credit: Jan H Anderson/

So, as I understand it, this particular urban myth goes like this:

Johnny was a very studious little boy, fascinated by things historical in particular. He really loved Egyptology, from a very young age. Used to drive his poor mother mad, telling her all about what he’d learned each day. She didn’t really care, you see. Johnny’s mother was all about Johnny’s mother and no-one else, but the poor little tyke didn’t see it. Just thought, one day he’d tell her something so amazing she would want to hear it, not shake her head, put her hands to her ears as she would always do and say “Not now, not any more, I’m not listening Johnny! Go and play like normal kids, just for once, just for once!”

He loved her though. He worshipped her. Some say that neglect does that, more than a returned love. Who knows? Or maybe little Johnny-head-in-a-book never watched the actual world enough to know something was wrong with her, with his family. His father always away, until one day he just didn’t return at all. But little Johnny’s mother didn’t care. She said she got ‘pots of money’ from the ‘settlement’ and that was fine by her. But I think she sometimes also said “If only he’d taken the kid too’ but hopefully little Johnny never heard.

If he did it didn’t stop him loving her. Loving her too much.

Then she got sick all of a sudden, really sick. Cancer. Died real quick. But Johnny didn’t tell the authorities. He had other ideas. All that study could finally be put to good use. So he wrapped her up in bandages, Egypt style. He might have also done that other mummification stuff – taking out the vital organs – I don’t know. They say the bandages were bloody, so it may well be the case.  He was a thorough and well schooled kid, after all. Anyway, eventually he just laid her out on her bed in her room like an Egyptian princess waiting to travel to the other side.

And then he tried something else. Not so scientific, but equally ancient. A kind of spell.

And then she woke up.

So she was there, trapped with him. Little Johnny. and his ‘mummy’.  And he’d tell her stories and read to her from his books, to tell her all the wonderful things he’d learned.

And the mummy would stand there, as in life, shaking her head, and putting her hands to her ears, imploring him to stop.

But Johnny didn’t stop. He knew. He just knew. One day he’d find something so amazing she would want to hear.

It could only be a matter of time.

(c ) Helen M Valentina 2018

About helenvalentina

Like most people, I have a number of sides to me. The most interesting one probably emerges through my writing, hence this blog. I love to read, and also to write, and so this is a way to share both.
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3 Responses to Mother

  1. Super story, Helen.

    Liked by 1 person

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