Hello W.D. Wilcox,
I'm not sure where I saw a link to this story, but I'm glad I did.
I've read some of your stories before and I'm never dissatisfied.
This one especially appealed to me as it reminded me of a nightmare I had just the other night. I'll explain a bit later.
You write this so well, and with the right words. The descriptions of the lighting and imagery created a mood, where the child made a decision to escape from this horrible place and person.
While I was glad she escaped I worried when the snakes but her, while the other girl enticed her to follow.
Yet, this little girl decided to trust her. Unfortunately, the other had bad intentions and then seemed to constantly sheer at the child.
I wondered at why the adult acted like she was sorry, and pretty much think she's not change like that and actually would be like an angry alcoholic beating thier child, pushing them past unbearable limits. It's truly horrifying. but these things have happened to someone, or more than likely, several children.
Regardless, your story feels real, and I wasn't sure how to take the ended. I could see a possibility of a following story, but what turn if events might happen between the other girl who "forgave" her mother, I wasn't sure.
Maybe the entity, being a bit evil might create chaos. I doubt she truly would end up a victim. It was as if she planned it.
* I did not see anything like punctuation or spelling errors in this item.
Good writing. Thank you for sharing.
Now as for what said earlier, what I dreamt was like nothing else I have.
In mine, I was watching things unfold, ir ut was me at the mirror and then basically outside myself watching it happen.
It seemed as if it was a grown girl or young woman looking in the mirror doing the usual things people do after waking up.
Along came this older woman, her mother?, and she's screaming like a banshee at her. "What are doing? Hurry up! You have work to do, girl! Quit laying around!" She's chasing the girl, swinging something in her hand at her.
The girl isn't even dressed yet. She's thin, gaunt, tired looking, a haunted look on her face. Only fear causes her to jerk forward, running from the mad woman on a rampage. There's no escape.
This feeling is that this happened daily and that it never ends.
And so getting back to your story, it's weirdly similar. Yet, I hadn't read this until now. I was relieved to wake up and realize it wasn't real life, and in case you wondered, my mother never treated me like that.
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