The prompt for this week’s #FlashFictionFaction revolved around the phrase “I heard it, too.” For the rest of the prompt instructions, click HERE.
Here is what I wrote:
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The mother and her son met in the upstairs hallway.
“Mom! What are YOU doing here? I just heard you call me from the living room.”
“I heard it, too, Ricky, but I was in the bathroom and I heard Grandma calling me.”
“Grandma? Which one?”
“MY mother.”
The father stepped out of the master bedroom.
“Honey? Rick? Did you hear that? I thought I just heard my mother calling my name.”
“Bill, I heard MY mother calling MY name and she just died last week.”
“And MY mother died two years ago.”
“Mommy, you aren’t dying, are you?”
“No, Ricky, I’m fine.”
“But I heard YOU calling MY name.”
A younger boy stepped out of his room.
“Hey! Who is that lady downstairs?”
“Eddie,” asked Ricky, “you didn’t hear Mom calling you?”
“No. Mom, did YOU call me?”
“No, Eddie, but we’ve all heard something.”
“CarlaRickyEddieWilliam!”
They all looked at each other.
“Mommy, I’m scared,” said Ricky. “If that wasn’t you calling me from the living room, who was it? You’re right here.”
“I know, dear, but didn’t you hear Grandma calling me?”
“No. There was only one voice. It sounded like you and it said ‘Ricky!’”
“But I heard only one voice, too, and it said ‘Carla!’”
“Same here,” added Bill, “but mine said ‘William!’”
“Well, mine said ‘Eddie!’” said the younger brother, starting to cry, “but it wasn’t your voice, Mommy. Mommy, who was it? Why didn’t it sound like you?”
“Eddie,” began Bill.
“Dear, let me tell him,” interrupted Carla, kneeling down and hugging Eddie, “Baby, it’s like this: Daddy and I really wanted a little brother for Ricky, but we couldn’t have any more children. Your real parents died in a car crash when they were taking you home from the hospital. You almost died, too, but you didn’t and Daddy and I adopted you.”
Tears began to overflow Eddie’s eyes. They were tears of sorrow mixed with tears of fear and mingled with tears of disbelief.
“THAT’S NOT TRUE!” He shouted, stomping his feet.
“WilliamCarlaRickyEddie!”
They all stopped and looked down the stairs.
“MOMMY!” screamed Eddie, at once sounding excited, defiant and resolute as he broke free from Carla’s embrace and ran down the stairs.
“Wait! Eddie! No!” yelled Bill. He reached forward, but Eddie was already too far ahead. He took off after him.
“Bill!” Carla ran after Bill, leaving Ricky alone on the landing.
“Mom? Dad? Eddie?” Not wanting to be the only one there with everyone else rushing to the living room, he followed them.
“EDDIEWILLIAMCARLARICKY!”
Ricky entered the living room. The others were already there: his brother and his father, but TWO mothers.
“M-m-m-mommy?” Eddie stepped slowly toward one of the women. Bill and Carla walked toward her, too, as though held captive by a siren’s song.
“RICKYEDDIEWILLIAMCARLA!”
“Nooooooooooooo!” Ricky grabbed the poker from next to the fireplace and ran toward the counterfeit mother at full speed, stabbing her squarely in the gut.
The falseling collapsed in upon the wound, then vanished in a flash of light and a puff of smoke.
“Ricky!” shouted Carla, “Put that poker back by the fireplace! That is NOT a toy. Someone could get hurt.”
“Yes, Mom.”
