The Memories

"John, start throwing away all your old blankets, your new stuff is in."

That's my name, John, and calling me was my mother Freida. I am 23 years of age and I am living with my girlfriend in my mother's old house.

She is living here for only two more days until she moves in with her brother: my uncle. She's bought me a new bed for my house and he's clearing her things before she leaves.

I went to the door and my girlfriend Madison was there. I told her I was going to throw away my old stuff. I went to the trash can outside and noticed something odd. My family scrapbook... my mother would never throw this away. It was odd. She loved this scrapbook. She would take pictures, print them out, and put them in. Back when I was younger she'd even Kodak them. I took the scrapbook.

The label was taken off; it was splashed wet with warm water. Seemed like tears. I took it inside and me and Madison opened it up. Some of the pictures were missing, some burned, and some circled with a red marker. Behind the red marker you could see a faint face. It made my heart rate drop and my mind terrified and as I turned to another page, what I suddenly heard was the bloodcurdling scream of my mother.

I went to her room and she was sitting by the wall with her head down. Madison was sobbing and scared and I lifted her head and what I saw has scarred me for the rest of my life. Her eyes, all white, no pupils and no retina. In her hand was a note; it read: "A new page for the scrapbook" and beneath it was a picture of my mother's pupiless face. I tried to call 911 but no avail, the wires were cut, and my cellphone was missing, and so was Madison's. Probably stolen.

I went back to the couch with Maddy, comforting her and wiping away her tears. While I did this I picked up the scrapbook and looked at more of the pictures. Some of them were of tombstones. One was my father's and the date was when he died. It looked like it was taken from an angle. Another, my mother's. This one looked real as well, but my mother had just died, or, whatever the hell happened to her. This was weird.

As I turned the pages, with the burned photos, the circled ones, the ones with writing such as "The life of a man does not end until someone, or, something wants it to."

I would see a tombstone with someone's name I recognized. Mine came up as 1/6/13, the day I bring you this story, Maddy's was 2/9/20 and so on so forth. I came along more and more pictures. 10 pages had been hollowed to store a VHS tape. Curious, I took the tape and played it.

It was a video from 1998 with my family standing there, as if posing for a picture, but with no facial expression, no movements, unless to blink or sway a little bit. We had no eyes, and when It got to around one minute, it wasn't black and all I heard was a scream... A scream of my father... then another.

This was the one my mother had made. For both screams it had zoomed in on their eyeless face. It looked hyper-realistic. Maddy had cringed and cried at the screams. She was bawling, and she ran out the door and said she was going to find help. As I looked through the pictures, I remembered all of this... The memories. They all had a meaning. As I got closer to the end I eventually reached more tombstones.

Each page after another would be of around one billion tombstones, clashed together, only readable by a microscope, which, oddly enough, I have. I used it to look at dates of deaths. I didn't look at all, but I looked at 100 on all eight pages. What creeped me out was something just crazy. All of these dates were on the same exact day. And finally, on the last page was a message: "For my time will come to slowly take away the vast mystery of life. No more hate, no more love, no more hope, no more dreams, no more anything, anymore. Just silence. But before the silence must come the screams, the painful screams." If only I could understand the meaning behind these woorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Comments • 0

Loading comments...