"WHAT THE HELL YOU MEAN "lol"?MY PALM IS BURN—PHOO—NING—"
"Ice yourself dude your palm's not even bleedin'—INFACT—there is barely gap there!"
"DAMN YOU"
SHIEEHHH PHOOOOO
"Mwuehehehehehheheheh"
"Why did I even come with you?"
***
Nine-years in this ....town yet I don't know the name it has before I was born and it currently has and will have.
Kinda embarrasin'
The curtains eat all the sunlight for I never open them so the rays can shower on me.
A weird thing it is that, I never split the hug between the curtains, just lettin' 'em the bath in it.
Feels like being deprived of sun makes you say some WEIRD-ASS things; I shouldn't say such stuff mom might break my spine if she heard my little mouth swearing!
"HAGGU!!"
Aw hell here she calls me again... middle-aged woman got nothing at hand other than household and badmouthin' papa.
As I stood in a hop the bedsheet pulls and slides, "who cares though? mom's calling".
With that in mind I descended down the stairs to see what the near old (thirty-nine years old BY—THE—WAY) had to say to my ears.
Squeak! Squeak!
As I reached the main room, the "EPICENTER" of the house (I gave the title) there stood mom with that dried-dehydrated-parched face, left hand maternally resting on the hip flippin' them omelletes.
I hate the name "Haggu", its a "cute" house name for me, which literally means someone who shits a lot.
(Mom said I was the "number one poopy-pants" in my baby era)
"Hag-"
"AYE DON'T CALL ME THAT" I shouted.
"Okay-jeez you try to be too cool for your age against your mother"
She said as a dissappointed tug pulled her lip corners downwards.
"Call me somethin' like 'honey' mom" I spoke in a begging pitch
"Okay-okay you are too dramatic—oh yeah—what I had to say was, you are goin' outside".
(Outside? Literally a bat in a fancier cave I am, WHY would I be outside man? There might be many people in the town but I know Absolutely NOBODY!)
"Uhh..why outside mom? I don't got anybody to hangout with cuz I am alo-"
"SHUSHHHH! Absolute silence! To your surprise—ihope—THERE'S FAMILY THAT SHIFTED NEXT DOOR!"
"Uhm..where?"
(I mean I haven't ever left home so..)
"How...DO YOU NOT KNOW THE HOUSE LITERALLY TWENTY-STEPS RIGHT TO OURS?!"
"Jeez momma you know I don't get a look around often"
(Never actually)
"Oh gosh—let me make it simpler for you, straight to the point.. the neighbours next door have a daughter, around your age I heard".
(Age..MY AGE? Oh hell nah man I haven't talked to the same gender kids in ages how am I suppose to handle a GIRL?)
The thought of meeting a girl shoots spark of fire in my head—the bad one not the determined.
"Mom..this doesn't feel..comfortable to me you know"
"Ehhhh, you are gonna be fine you are a grown boy—"
"I JUST TURNED INTO A TEEN MOM"
"YES and that age is crucial for social development which comes ACTUALLY TALKING TO PEOPLE"
"But mom-"
"I don't wanna hear anythin', are you not comfortable here? Why can't you be with her?"
"I don't think I am you dad and you always fight like scary animals-"
...Sorry mom
"..ugh leave it, if you don-"
Knock knock
"Let me see"
Mom walks up to the door in consistent steps goin' to check who's on the door.
I feel horrible saying that to her face, but ain't it true for I am the one who is a witness of it all?
As the door opens, the one who is there is covered by mom's frame.
She snaps back in a tick and what was visible on her face, was a grin.
For me it posed like a source of horror ready to jumpscare the fucking bones out of me.
"honeyy~, someone's here!!"
"WHO is it mom?"
"You gotta see yourself"
Oh
(Aw man..Highly likely it is who I think it is)
This meeting was against my will but now if my skin and bones backed off the only other person who might now know me will think i am a rude narcissist, or worse..a weirdo introvert!
(Well I am an introvert but NOT a weirdo!!!)
There was no choice. My feet stepped forward as I was ready to face whoever there was standin'
As my grin-faced mom saw me comin' closer to the door in a quick side step she let the view and air visible to me.
It was a silhoutte standin'
(Seems like the reflection playin' games)
As I inched closer the appearance fleshed out more and more.
As i stood in the middle of two parallels wooden frames, the imagery was fully sifted from the darkness and I could see, who there was standin.
Whimsical and hell are together forever
Everyday boredom piles up again and again,
Going outisde is fun or not that is subjective, what makes it the universal truth for someone?
An adaptation of my poem Brunette Girl with frogs
(Note:this series is being crossposted on platforms like cozyread and scribblehub. Discontinuted on royalroad. In all websites i go by same handle)
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