am i asleep?

         he had been looking forward to spending time with both his mama and min, to finally having a family night ---he missed that. but when ally had called to announce she was caught up at work, his hopes fizzled away. ❝ do i get to pick the movie? ❞ he asked, perking up at the suggestion.   

          yet another night terror. it had felt so real, the killer clown running after him through the darkened hallways of his school. every twist, every turn, there he was with his rusty knife, ready to tear him to pieces. ❝ mama, ❞ the boy sniffled as he pressed his face against her shirt in search of comfort. ❝ it as the clown again, he was going to get me.❞

         ❝ i’ll only tell you if we do the pinky thing,❞ he announced as he put his pencil down ceremoniously —english homework could work, this was a serious matter. the pinky thing had always felt like some kind of a solemn ritual and he treated it as such. ❝ deal? ❞

         he had been pressing his face against the window pane, nose turned up, lips smushed against the cold cold glass ---he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live with a squished pancake face for the rest of his life! had anyone else said it (anyone besides her or his mama), he would have doubted it immediately, done a quick online search to find out the truth. but her ---with that soft yet ominous tone--- he simply believed. ❝ i’m not--- i wasn’t--- ❞ blond strands swayed side to side as he shook his head.

     since his mom’s death, a lot of people had been doing that: offering hugs, giving their condolences, sending them casseroles and cookies, or just giving him sad looks, which was his least favorite part ---it felt awkward, like people expected him to break down crying. ❝ do you know why hugs make you feel better when you’re sad? ❞ he asked as he walked closer, arms open wide.

         ❝ no, ❞ he replied earnestly. ❝ you’re not like the evil clowns. you’re more like… twisty —misunderstood. ❞

         he had been quiet ( nose stuck in a comic, elephant plush sitting on his lap ---protecting him  ) from the moment they had arrived at the motel. there was a crippling fear making his tongue heavy, dragging down words ---if he asked, he would hear something he didn’t want to hear, something really scary, scarier than the clowns that had killed his neighbors. but this was his mom, one of the few persons he could trust. ❝ it’s just… is mama sick? am i gonna see her again? ❞

        narrowed eyes, clenched jaw —determination marked on his countenance. ❝ i’m being careful, ❞ golden curls bounced as he nodded slightly. his hand reached for the other branch, and he pulled himself up. his mama probably wouldn’t approve of this, but he had to get that cat down from the tree… he seemed scared. 

         ❝ mama... ❞ lips pursed as he considered how to word his question. he didn’t want to make his mama sad by bringing up his mom, mr. guinea, winter or pedro... but he couldn’t find a definite answer, everyone seemed to have a different opinion on the topic. what was he supposed to believe? ❝ what happens after people die? ---mrs. ferro says you go to heaven, but there’s people on the internet who say that’s not true... they say that nothing happens. ❞

@supremegoode : replies with pure pureness!!