The Prompt: The Variants of Vampires. Think of an alternative vampire that survives on something other than blood. Write a story or a scene based on this character.
Coming down the driveway, I wonder what's in store for me today. Each day, I was never if I should be excited or dreading what the next 10 minutes would hold. I guess it doesn't matter - the end is always the same.
"Hi, mom! I'm home!" I shout. I listen to see where the noise is coming from.
A muffled voice from the back. "Hi, there!"
So far so good. I hear the footsteps coming down the hall, and she rounds the corner. Tattered pants, old t-shirt, ratty sweater. Maybe an ok day?
"How was school?" she asked.
"Ok," I answered, not sure how things were going to go from there.
"Did you get the results from your test on Monday?"
"Yeah."
"Well?"
"It was ok. I passed."
She didn't say anything. I took a deep breath.
"What do you mean, you passed? was that good or not? is this something to worry about?"
"No, mom. All's good."
"You know you shouldn't have gone out with your friends on Friday. You should have stayed home and studied. This is not the daughter I raised."
"Mom ... I did the best I could."
"You could have done better if you had studied more. You know, I think you need to stay home for this month. No social activities, no going out. To school and home to study. I have things you should be doing around here, too. I can't do everything myself and you're old enough to help."
I'm glad the day had been good until now. I'm glad I was able to have lunch with my friends and that the projects I was working on for class were with good people. I'm glad my days are good.
"You don't know how good you have it. Why you throw it all away for other people, I don't know. I would never have done that. You're not grateful at all for all I do for you."
I close my eyes as I stood in the foyer. She is standing in front of me and I can't go anywhere without getting her to move.
"Mom, could you please move. I want to go to my bedroom."
"You never listen to me. You never do what you're told. No wonder you're doing so poorly."
"Mom ..." I sigh. She doesn't move. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to do as you're told. I want you to stop fooling around and get down to work. You'll never amount to anything this way."
"Ok, mom. Let me take my things to my bedroom and I'll help you," I resign myself. I feel like I've just been deflated.
She shuffles to the side, enough for me to pass, but still tight enough that I have difficulty. It's her way of letting me know she has the authority. I have to maneuver around her and invade her space because she controls the area. It's not that she's a large woman, but that her power consumes the room. If I could make myself small as a mouse, I would still be in her way.
I drop my things off inside my bedroom door, put on my slippers, and come back. "What are you making for dinner?"
"Me?? I'm not making anything for dinner. You know how to cook. You make something. It's only dad and you."
"And you," I correct her. I should have thought first.
"No, you don't have to make anything for me. I don't need anything," she almost hissed at me. "You've shown me what you think of me ... I would never have treated my mother the way you treat me. Go do your thing. You don't care anyway."
How things could go from a welcome home to this venom in a split second baffled me for years later. I felt exhausted, and I had barely got home. How was I going to get my homework done tonight?
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