Portal

shutterstock_476507260

Image credit: Sabphoto/Shtterstock.com

Mommy disappeared into the portal on Saturday.

Daddy said he thought she didn’t mean too, but she did anyway. Mommy often did things she didn’t really mean to, it was one of her things.

One of Daddy ‘s things was to shake his head and gently laugh at her. It was a good feeling when he did that because it kind of made you sense it was ok to do things wrong, or just the way you wanted, and ‘damn everyone else to hell’ as he would say. It made you feel safe.

But Mommy’s thing this time didn’t make him laugh or gently chide. And it didn’t make us feel safe. The portals opened up too often now, and when people were gone they were just gone.

I asked Daddy if Mommy had died. It seemed kind of like what the preacher says about souls ascending to heaven. Daddy said he didn’t know but he didn’t think so. Maybe there was life on the other side.

But then he shuddered, like that thought was worse. Maybe heaven is better than lots of other types of life. Or maybe he just worried because he didn’t know.

Later I heard him weeping. I didn’t understand the sound at first because he’d never cried. Then I remembered my own tears when I fell and hurt myself, or that time that the other kids at school picked on me and made me run away. But I couldn’t understand Daddy crying. I only knew it was that damn portal and Mommy being gone.

So when I saw the new portal open today I knew what to do. I knew what my thing was. The thing no-one else did or would have approved of, but damn them all to hell.

I had to go through and bring Mommy back.

So I’m standing right beneath it now, just as Mommy did. And I can see Daddy in the distance running towards me, but I’m shouting above the portal noise that it’s ok. It’s so loud though, so I don’t know if he hears me. I just hope he does.

And I’m hoping that as it takes me I hear his gentle laugh again too, when he understands what I’m doing, and that it’s all ok.

(c ) Helen M Valentina 2018

About Helen

I'm drawn to blogging as a way to share ideas and consider what makes us who we are. Whether it's in our working life or our creativity, expression is a means to connect.
This entry was posted in Horror Flash Fiction, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Portal

  1. I have to feel sorry for the dad. First his wife then his child.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s