Dorthea

"Dorthea!" her mother screamed from within the chambers of her room. The girl began, without hesitation, walking up the spiral, black staircase that then led to the womb of her mother's bedroom. The door opened slowly with a sharp squeaking sound like chalk being heavily slid on a blackboard. The girl knew her mother was angry; she always was. The only question was...for what reason? The girl peeked her head in the room and saw that it was dark and gloomy; for no light emanated the room. Her mother could not be seen in the midst of this darkness, and for that reason, the girl became uneasy. "Yes mother?" the girl asked softly, not stepping not one foot into the room. The girl was fearful of her mother; the way she looked and the attitude she always brought upon the ones that came around her. "Dorthea, Dorthea", her mother whispered in a slow pitched, musical tone. "Are you there?" she asked. The girl was afraid to speak and to even breathe for that matter. She knew what her mother wanted her to do and to do it quickly and quietly before more anger grew from the depths of her mother's heart. With that thought in mind, the girl stepped within the chambers of her mother's bedroom and shut the door quietly. "Ah, there we are my child, my sweet, sweet beloved Dorthea," her mother said softly and passionately. Oh, how she knew her mother was angry, yet she spoke so kindly and tenderly.

The girl had a series of thoughts running through her mind and with each thought arose fear. The soft pitching tone of her mother's voice was one thing that appeared unusual to the girl and sent her nerves racing, but it wasn't this. Oh, no it wasn't this that bothered the girl. She knew something was peculiar, not only in the voice of her mother, but how kind she was with every reference made towards her. Hence, her heart began racing and with each beat, the contractions felt pungent and as if a sharp object was penetrating her from within. "Would you like me to sit, mother?" the girl asked politely, trying to make conversation. "Oh, oh most certainly dear! It's been a long day and I know you must be tired," the mother replied sympathetically. The girl hesitated to sit for a slight second, but she knew her mother was right. She also knew to remain alert, despite how tired she was. "I want to ask you my child, but one question. Yes, that's it, just one small, irrational question. And I want you to answer with brutal honesty," her mother said in a deeper tone.

The room was dark and damp and the girl's mother could not be seen, thus the girl became more nervous, as her nerves and blood began pumping with every footstep her mother took as she roamed around the room. "Any question that you have for me, mother, will be answered with my most truthful, heartfelt response," the girl declared. The mother paused in silence for a moment and then began with her query. "Are you afraid of me, my child?" the mother asked instantly seeking a response. Although the girl had promised her mother that she would answer honestly, the girl hesitated, simply because she was afraid of what her mother could possibly do to her if her response was insulting. With honesty in her heart, the girl replied, "no mother, I am not afraid of you, for I am afraid of what has become of you." Her mother scuffled at her daughter's response and the girl became even more dreadfully nervous.

The laughter got louder with every heartbeat, then a few moments later, silence stood still. "Dorthea?" her mother whispered. "My kitty, kitty, kitty, I've missed you a great deal. For you disappeared from me for sixteen years and all I can do now is want to have you on my lap so that I may hear you purr," the mother said gently. The girl was confused after her mother said these words, but then she began to quiver in her seat, remembering familiar events from her family's past. "The cat!" she thought to herself. "Oh, the poor, delicate cat we had sixteen years ago," she began to remember. "How gracious and gentle it was with every prance it took around our home and how light the bell on its' collar would sound when it made its' ring. For its' name was Dorthea, not mine. I am Corinthia! " the girl recalled. These thoughts came of joy to Corinthia, but when she came upon the thought of what her mother had done to Dorthea, she instantly became frightened. "Dorthea! I said come here!" the mother yelled appallingly.

Corinthia was alarmed and anxious to abscond from the premises of her mother's bedroom; for she was well aware what her mother wanted to do to her. Corinthia made an agonizing shriek and ran out of the room, down the staircase, and into the basement. But her mother remained within her bedroom and in her bedroom there was a strange noise that sounded like a small bell. The mother then walked out of her bedroom with boastfulness and a wicked look in her eye. The mother was angry and the tone of the house had changed. "Now my kitty where did you go? I have your collar for you," the mother declared strutting down the stairs. Corinthia had fled into the cavity of the basement hiding from her mother. Her mother began walking down the case of stairs that lead to the basement. "Dorthea!" she called. There was a silence, and in the midst of this silence, her mother glanced at hollow space at which her daughter was hiding in. Her mother smirked and began walking towards the room. Corinthia became very terrified, but remained thrillingly still.

Her mother began to ring the bell repeatedly for several seconds, then she immediately stopped and waited. There was still not a sound made from the room, which made the mother grow very impatient. The mother then glanced around the room and placed her eye upon a heavy object which appeared as a rock. Her mother then grasped the rock with her two hands and slowly walked back towards the hollow space. Quick and in a flash, the mother threw the heavy object into the space and a hard, heavy, muffled sound was produced. The mother then went into the room and drug out the body that was lying lifelessly on the floor. "Ah, there we are Dorthea, my sweet, sweet beloved Dorthea. I've missed you so much! It appears you lost your collar, but here, I have it right here for you," the mother stated petting her lifeless daughter as if she was the sixteen year old deceased cat. She placed the collar on her neck and drug her upstairs into the kitchen. The mother boiled water, chopped up onions and parsley, and added a pinch of salt into the pot of soup. "Hmmm, this looks delicious, but now we're missing one thing. A soup is not a soup without meat!" the mother exclaimed. With that idea in mind, the mother took her daughter's body and cut it into pieces, ligament by ligament and threw it into the pot of soup. After the soup was completed, the mother sat down at the dinner table and blessed the table. "Dorthea," she said, "you must surely taste amazing!" And with that, the mother consumed her supper, leaving not a drop of soup left behind.