It is I, your friend Margot, with my Super 8 story! Yeah!
Enjoy!
-x-
She never knew where I was. I could have been dead. Her only son, given a brief obituary in the evening paper. Living with grief, and realizing that she never got to say goodbye.
My mother cried when she wasn't able to find me in the detention center where the citizens of Lillian, Ohio where being held. I was told this when I came back to the same place she sobbed when she couldn't find her darling child. My leg was crippled, and I needed assistance walking when I had to wait to get a proper cast.
My name is Martin. I did not find my mother that day.
When I stumbled back into the detention center with the help of some people, I looked frantically for her. I yelled. I screamed.
"MOM!" I screeched, "Mother? Please! It's me, Martin!"
I don't remember exactly what I said, but Charles later told me that I was deliriously yelling either "mother" or "Betty," my mother's name.
"Dude, you were hysterical. I should have filmed you. Would've been mint," Charles said, much to my annoyance after I awoke in a hospital. Apparently, I passed out from shock and the pain in my leg.
I know. Very manly.
-x-
I could never take much. It didn't take a lot to make me panic or sob. Once, in the ice cream shop, I got separated from my mom and started crying a river.
That's when I met Preston. There I was, screaming and carrying on, while he was holding his mother's hand. He turned around and looked at me strangely.
"Are you okay?" eight-year-old Preston asked, "Where's your mama? Can I help find her?"
His slightly nasally voice made me giggle. I immediately accepted his offer and we began to scout around for my mother. After ten minutes, we eventually found her in the ladies' room. My mother wasn't exactly happy.
But Preston and I became friends for life. We looked quite the unlikely pair; tall, stupid Martin and ungainly, smart Preston. But Preston and I ignored the laughter and we went to his house often. He had a thirteen-year-old brother who read MAD magazine and read Superman comic books. We worshipped him.
Preston lived in a tight-knit family, and even though they fought, they still respected each other. They were very much like the Kaznyks.
-x-
But Preston was not around to help me find my mom. I doubted I would ever find her,
"Oh, look, she's over there!"
Wrong.
"Maybe she went looking for you?"
I knew my mother would stay put if I ever left, hoping I would come back.
"No, really, Martin, I heard she left the center to go look for you," Jen Kaznyk told me.
Jennifer Kaznyk. Now she was a pretty face. I would never distrust her.
"Really?" I replied, with a hopeful expression on my face.
"Yeah, my mom even saw her sneak off."
-x-
Perhaps she really did go look for me, I thought.
I knew I had to get out of here. My mother needed to know I was alright. I needed to see her face. I needed to wrap my arms around her.
As I walked up to a soldier, he snapped, "What do you think you're doing, youngster?"
"I need to get out of here," I said desperately, hoping he would give me permission to leave.
He scoffed. "That's what everyone's been saying, kid. Why should I deny the access to the town but let you in? I'd be tarred and feathered."
"Please," I begged, "I need to find my mother."
"I'm sorry buddy," the soldier said in a more sympathetic tone, "Maybe when it's safe to go back into the town. You just can't leave now."
Tears welled up my eyes as I walked away. I eventually found the Kaznyks.
After I took a seat next to Charles, I buried my head in my hands and cried.
I'll never find her, I thought in sorrow.
-x-
Okay, that's the first chapter! I'll update soon, I promise.
Review, fav, anything would be appreciated.
- This chapter is named after a song released in 1951. It is a cover of a song originally released in the same year. I'll give you a shoutout in the next chapter if you can correctly guess the cover artist. First person gets the shoutout. Extra points if you can name the writer.
3, Margot
