PART I
B
His mother calls him one day.
It's May and there is snow on the ground, the sun on the sky, the clouds make shadows that chase children inside the house.
The sound the phone makes its like static and grinding metal but he knows it's his mother. Her voice is warm like honey, like the sting of a bee.
She asks him how he is doing.
"You're dead mother" he tells her. The phone is too big on his hands; he tangles his fingers on the cord.
The other side is dead and his ear is very, very cold. He thinks maybe, he has gone deaf, maybe has been all along. Then
"You wicked boy. Hateful creature I should have killed you when they told me to. End your pitiful existence and spare everyone a little pain. To meet you is sorrowful, to birth you is condemnation".
B looks at the window on the office, knows his reflection hasn't blink in two minutes.
His mother soars on the phone, crying such an ugly sound he hears glass break on the other side.
"You've been dead since I was born you old witch. Burn as you must"
He hangs up at the screaming, dizzy; his mother's voice turns into a full headache. His reflection blinks but doesn't smile as he expected it to, its pupils are blown wide and black.
The sun hides behind clouds, there are no shadows only dark. The snow melts, makes the garden glow an unnatural green.
He plays outside before they're all hauled in when the worst storm in the past 10 years hits them.
She doesn't call again.