Tarnished Ribbons

Tarnished Ribbons. a mother who realises her son is her own


1. Tarnished Ribbons

Tarnished Ribbons

She sat there shivering; she had created a protective coverage of moth-eaten duvets, withered, shabby covers and dark tatty, shawls. She was not shivering from the cold but because of dark tainted memories, which questioned her sanity. Her solemn grey eyes stared listlessly ahead, her breath deep and hoarse as if someone had stuffed a rag down her throat twisting her breathing to abnormal gasps. Surrounding her strewn carelessly over the ragged carpet, which she hadn’t cleaned for five years, crooked, loopy mother day cards, bright childish drawings and angelic  paintings full of emotion and sincere meaning,  lay forgotten and overlooked. Her eyes scanned the room, waken from the long daze, she took in the dirt, the scattered cards and the horrible state of the room. Her eyebrows arched and her face became dark as her haunted eyes settled upon the cards, her hand scrambled under the dirty duvet and she picked up the razor-sharp, jagged scissors, wounding her shrivelled, wizened fingers through it. The frown long gone, in its place lingered a demonic smile. It stretched to every corner of her pale, blood-drained face; a devilish spark appeared in her dreary, haunted grey eyes.


The first mother’s card slashed in to two from the wrath of her scissors, rippling through the air before falling sprawled down on the carpet. She closed her eyes and her smile widening as she cut the first ribbon, which taunted her sanity. The haunting memories coming back to her ripping fiercely at her heart he looked beautiful dressed in blue onesis, his cherub face smiling as he lay in her arms.

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