Breaking Horizons: Book 1: Snared Origins

by

JeanDRacc

Chapter 11 - Snared Origins Pt.3: Because it's plot armor.

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A note from JeanDRacc

Okay, mmm... Those that arrived here will see that the novel is finally near its deep destination, before it takes off. Yet probability tells me, that many stop before reaching this chapter. 

We are still in the starting chapters of snared origins. We need to go down inside this ocean. There's a tunnel there, it is dark, like glimpsing at the abyss. Can you stare and escape it? Probably not. I couldn't do it. 

Thanks for reading. 

 

Part 1: Sometimes family is all you have. What's yours?

We strive for social recognition. It's in human nature. Something called fashion, like kids following a model's actions to then become models to follow.

A family is that place you wish to return. Doesn't have to be blood-related. It's simple, just that place you call home. Somewhere you can relax. Somewhere you feel secure. 

Spoiler: Spoiler

 

School finally ended. He had to go home and ask his mom to go to the interview tomorrow. He took the usual means of transportation, waiting in line with unknown people, looking at the streets through the packed metal can.

Stepping off and walking by the sideway, looking at every market, till arriving to the old appartment. There was no elevator in it, not a problem though, they were on the second floor. He pressed the key to the doorknob as the rusty thing crackled while it turned. The door opened while making a little schreeching sound, and the dusty interiors gave the sense of finally being HOME.

As he entered the temporary rented loft, he found a note over the counter. It was his mom's hamdwriting, it said they were leaving at night, again. He smiled. He would spend more time with her. She was the light expelling the darkness. His true and only HOPE.

He didn't know why but he felt they should stay and go tomorrow to that interview. Yet, everytime his mom made such notes, things were going to be hurried. He started doing what the note said. Packing the usual necessities and personal belongings, he drifted his gaze at the window, at his reflection, and practiced his smile. He knew that today he should be ready when she arrives. Still, the window was his calming place, as he searched for that figure on the streets.

He remembered something and a scene played again in his mind.

There, in another apartment than the one he stayed, were a kid and a mother living. It was the last time the mother taught something to him in a detailed manner.

She instructed him something he didnt understand, and made him read a little book she wrote for him. The book didn't have anything that others would want. It was a piece of her to him. It was filled with teachings to different situations. Still, the language in the book was cold without her voice, and there was no answer for the 'why?' he longed for.

After receiving the book, things changed. The mother was always doing some business outside, she sometimes left the kid with strangers and returned late. It seemed as if she tried to take care of the kid initially. However, after he was 7 years old, she stopped preparing him food, and left everything to him.


The mother treated the child uncaringly, whilst the child tried to please the mother to get her attention. Even with all the difficulties, he always tried to please her.  He was obedient, got good grades in school, and lived a somewhat sufficient life.


He ran with a smile towards his mother shouting "Mom I got an A in the school's exam, look!"


"Hmmm, that's good..." The woman looked, but didnt smile.


"Mom, I heard the teacher wanted parents to go to school tomorrow, can you..."


"I will try, but most likely not..." The woman answered as if that wasn't important.


"Mom, do you want something to eat, I will prepare it!"


"Can you make a wellington steak?" The woman smirked.


He looked at the semi-smiling woman and smiled, but then murmured in low voice. "I don't know."


The woman looked and countered. "Then don't make anything."


He looked down again and exclaimed afterwards. "I... Will try!"


Those days, he would try anything. He went towards many places asking for that well-wathever dish. He found the way to make it, but the ingredients were costly. Luckily, a market woman he was a customer of when going to buy things, gave him a chance. He worked there, cleaning her store and receiving the ingredients as payment.

The dish was too hard, he had 3 disasters and some little burns and cuts. He tried again and worked for more time in the store. The lady gave him a last opportunity and he got the last possibility to make it. He had received the daily money, but rules stated, he had to do some things on his own. 

"I will..." He looked at the ingredients and started to prepare them. 'This time, she will smile!' He exclaimed inside his mind. The process took him about an hour and a half. The dish looked perfect for the most part. "It worked!" He wiped the sweat on his forehead.

He went towards the window, it was a different street but similar view, they always stayed on the second or third floor of a building. She stated she didn't like first floors or high places.

The weather changed, the last rays of sun descended and a known woman could finally be seen on the street. He was lucky, she came early this day. He prepared the table, let the food reheat a little and awaited for the door to open.

The woman entered, asked what was the occasion and sat on the dining table. She looked at the dish and the child. After inspecting the food, she ate it and gave a little smile. Despite that, her facial expression returned quickly to her normal self. He captured every instant, the smile made him satisfied for the accomplishment. Yet, he wanted to know why she acted like that. 

He remembered a teacher saying he suffered from depresion or some psychiatric disease. He wanted his mom to be healthy, and tried cooking some healthy recipes as well.

Everything he did was for a goal. To make his mom happy and smile.


Part 2: Not plot armor. Just, life.

The world, life and the living. Sometimes we can adapt to it, sometimes we don't want to. It's a bit of duality to make things swing. Boring things like this novel are forgotten while amusing things become renowned. Creators just have to make things entertaining, for readers to adapt to it before they kill or forget the book.

It's not plot armor, everything we know just changes. It's the law of a story, of life. It never stops, until you don't want to write anymore. Will that happen? I don't even know, that's why we like to struggle, make things umpredictable and then... return to being predictable.

Me, I am just writing life, something that many will not want to look directly at. I just want to write to understand this trashcan.

 

The drops of water sparkled over the window as they slid below. A child's smiling reflection could be seen as a known drenched silhouette appeared in the glass scene.

A door opened and the woman took off her coat, hanging it over the wall while she left her umbrella on the corner. She rubbed her hands and tidied her hair. She had already seen him waiting in the middle of the room, but didnt look there again.

He stayed still, even more sturdy than a military soldier. His sparkling eyes reflecting his innocent desire. Silence prevailed between the two, only the sound of shoes and rustling could be heard.

The woman walked and arrived near him. She mantained a distance and asked. "Did you do everything I asked?"

"Yes!" the kid answered.

"That's good then, I am going to sleep for an hour or two. Someone will pick us up and take us to another city. It's a friend I met recently, you don't have to be wary. Sleep a little if you wan't." She told him and closed the door of her room.

He then went towards the packed things and rechecked the inventory. After making sure everything was ready, he went to his room and slept after spending some minutes smiling at the ceiling.

A tall blomde haired man arrived in a van, he looked like a person with money. His mother already stated that he was a friend, so he didn't consider it much. The man acted friendly but with indifferent eyes. 

They traveled and left towards another city, took them around 3 hours on highway. He was actually having fun, as his mother was rather attentive during the travel. She spoke with the man about many things he didn't understand, until they arrived.

This time they were at a huge building's entrance. They descended from the van as some people took their belongings and helped them towards a room in the top floors. His mom told him to unpack their belongings and stay in the room till she arrived. He started to feel strange and suspected something was wrong, but he never doubted his mom. It was deeply engraved in his mind.

He started unpackaging and organized their belongings. He walked to the kitchen which was modern style, with an island and many high quality equipment. He still didn't like it, the table was too big, there were too many things and the cooking smell might not arrive towards the place they ate.

However, he had to praise the beds, the TVs, the warming electric chimney, and the kitchen equipment. He wondered if he could make his mother read him a book, and feel the warmth of her voice beside the chimney. He dreamed about the possibility of making an addicting dish that would make her smile forever. Maybe, just maybe, she would sleep better in a comfty bed like those. It was better if she slept well and woke up earlier to have breakfast with him. Oh, and movies! He remembered how the guys at school, talked about watching movies with their parents in such big beds; his mom stopped doing that when he was less than seven.

When the waiting time finished, the woman entered the room and looked at him. He was asleep in a couch near the chimney. She went near him, adjusted the mantle over him, and gave him a little kiss on the cheeks. Then left towards her room.

He woke and found he had slept, saw the mantle and thought of something, then went to his room. He might have been dreaming, but he didn't worry about missing his chance to tiredness, instead he got a plan for the next ocassion. He would make a sign with lights and arrows pointing towards him with a message. Why gain attention indirectly, when he could become as those glittering things outside the window?


Part 3: Because a story/life needs to advance.

"The flow of time remains positive, because you aren't reading backwards."

 

Spoiler: Spoiler

 

Life in this city was different, people could be seen everywhere, the school was more prestigious and bigger. How did they get such change in living conditions? Why did they need such a big apartment?

Apparently, he hated the apartment, he couldn't have a good view towards the street from such height. The open area of the place wasn't completely visible in the dark and it was too big. He would look like an invisible carpet on the floor. 'It will not work,' he though, it increased his abhorrence.

He waited and was prepared to do the same thing as always. But then had a change of heart as he remembered that it might not work. Maybe he should do something better. A great idea surfaced as he looked at the signboards of the city. If I could make a huge cartel like those, one that says 'mom hug me! Hmm, Why didn't I think of that before?'

Time passed until someone knocked on his door. 'Did mom forgot the keys?' He thought. However, his thoughts changed when a male's muffled voice spoke from behind the door. His first impression was for the stranger to be some robber or a neighbor. But as he aproached and he saw the man from before, he suspected something wrong happened.

He was taken to a hospital, the guy was a friend of his mom, and told him she was hospitalized. Forget the shiny signs, the guy didn't even close an eye. The scene was so stupid, that he wanted to throw himself towards the floor. The man didn't care and left him at the hospital. He told the kid that he would drive him there every two days. He will take him tomorrow, and his mom wasn't going to come today.

The man and kid entered the hospital, but couldn't see the woman. She was in a intensive care unit, and entrance wasn't allowed till stabilization.

The mother was dying a term hardly understood by children. As such,  it took him time to realize the gravity of the problem, and start inquiring about the situation. The response was that she was in reserved condition, and the physicians didn't tell him the events, because he was too young. 

Receiving such news, made him cry and break his promise. The huge apartment made him feel worse. Even though his mom came late, it gave him hope. Now, without hope, in the dark and cold apartment, he remained seated and looking at his reflection. No one knew what he was doing, since his mother wasn't going to appear in the distant streets.

Days passed and he was taken to the hospital by his mother's friend. He didn't ask him much, the guy just did what seemed to be a job. Today, she was going outside of the ICU and moved to a room that allowed visits. He was happy, he could finally see her, maybe she will smile if he borught something. 

During the shifts, he heard something about liver damage and possible drug addiction; they said she was at critical point. It even caused failures in other of her organs, and the hospital they were at didn’t have the resources for the needed special therapies. She was stable, but eventhough they tried, she would not have more than a hand count in years.

She was in a terminal disease state. He didn't understand much of it, so he was carefree for the time being. He only visited her, and cried over her ausence in the lonely apartment.

As the seasons passed, the child was about 12 years old. He finally knew and understood, that she didn’t have much time in this world. All of this days in the hospital, were like a time bomb on countdown. He urged the doctors to help but they didn't have a solution.


Some nurses hugged him or brought him fruits, but they were filled with pity, and only agravated his anxiety. He entered his mothers room, bringing such fruit as if it was the only medicine her mother would eat. He always smiled when he was by her side. He entered smiling and started slicing the fruit for her.


For some reason his mother always smiled a bit when eating such fruit. So he was awaiting that ephemeral twitch of her lips with a wishful expectance.



This day the mother looked strange, she was not pleased with the fruit. Her face was frowning while focusing on his smile. The child knew his mother was being cold towards him.

She probably wanted him to become an independent man, as the book she had given him stated. He couldn't bear that, leaving her obviously.  So he had to smile for her, even if... She didn't like that. He didn't want her to leave him. 


Despite the efforts, things weren't working the way they should, and the woman was making strange expressions she never did. The doctors said that was a secondary effect of being near death's doors. They had already told the kid with mild words, but he didn't take that seriously, or more like he couldn't. His heart spasmed and he felt stabbed at that possibility.


The woman looked at the kid, she affirmed "I think I'll die today..." She also gave a grim look afterwards. She expected to see what the kid wanted to say. 

He grippped his hands with force and remained silent and obedient. The woman looked strange at such reaction. She thought of something and delivered the long awaited answer.

“Want to know why?”


The woman’s son was surprised, he trembled and courage seemed to sip away, but as we know curiosity killed the cat.


“… Why?” he muttered with a trembling voice, his smile leaving his face for that moment.


He knew what that question was... Why... Why are you dying? Why are you giving me so much hardships? Why aren't you hugging me again? Why are you like this... Mom!? Why are you... Why have you become... So cold...?


The woman looked towards the window. She then shooked her head and gazed at him with indifference.


She had an absent minded expression, as if the sedation for the illness was too strong. But somehow, she pressed her bed's heardboard control panel, lifting her position a little more. Then she turned and tried to sit, while the child arrived to help her move.


Once seated, the woman said with a zombified expression and with little pauses over each phrasing.


“Because you resemble him, so talented, but always smiling and trying to please all... I hate that attitude, not being honest of what you want. Just doing things on a whim to satisfy others. Havent you looked at the book I gave you already? Are you really happy?.... Heh, obviously that hypocritical smile is the worst. You can't lie to me, you should live for yourself!"


The son was like a rat cornered. He had many of these experiences. He thought it was similar to some motherly preaching. He reacted as usual to this and tried to get the knowledge behind those words. In school they always said that mom's words, contained hidden meanings that were useful to the future.


However, the message this time was strange for him. Some words weren't in his vocabulary. 'The book?' He though, 'I finished it a long time ago... Was there something there that I didn't read well?'

Although her mother was cold, his school was already paid, and they gave excuses as to who paid it. His mom didn't say anything afterwards. But today she told him that everything was because of his face. He was always trying to find a solution to anything concerning his mother. And all he wanted was... To fullfill her every wish.


As a 12 year old he was dumb to this. But he had cried enough, his personality was changing and maturing without knowing. So instead of crying, he absent mindedly responded: “I see, if you had told me... I would have changed my face” It was the best solution he could find for today's problems.


The woman paused, then strangely started laughing “HAHAHA you? Really? I bet you never thought of that before, do you have the courage to do that? Only to satisfy a parting mother?...HAHAHA”


The son looked at her, she was really acting strange, but if this was her last wish... He didn't need to think anymore...
He just moved and took the knife he used to cut apples for her. He didn't care... he repeated in his mind the words "for mother", while imagining that smiling face he craved for so many years. His practiced smile surfacing again  


He gripped his teeth and hands. Her mother's actual laughter wasn't a real smile. Was it that people became crazy when dying?... Was it that when people died they became crazy demons, didn't they need to fullfil their wishes to leave happily? His thoughts were confusing but then he remembered that long stored memory of her smile.


With his confidence up, he moved his arms while cutting the skin of his face. He started crying whilst eyes closed. It was because of the pain and blood that started gushing out, from the nasty cuts he was doing on his skin.


The woman started coughing while trying to stand off the bed, she left her oxygen suppletory device, while going towards the kid, while saying in a forced voice: “Stop it! You only need to stop smiling like that. Dont you understand?!”


But then she saw something she didn’t expect, the son started making deeper cuts. He will stop smiling to make her smile. 


He didn’t care anymore, and all his face was covered with cuts. Except for the region around the eyes; the nose, mouth, forehead, and cheeks had many ugly cuts.


“…You... my... really… Stop… Don’t” said the mother while trying to pull out a connection to her arm.


She jumped out of bed and hugged the child while saying “Idiot bunny I…” 

The mother looked at him while crying and reaffirming her voice, but before she could finish, her vision darkened, and she started having a seizure.

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A note from JeanDRacc

Well, some might believe I just did something predictable since I probably killed the mother. But that's just under-estimating the story. 

Spoiler: Spoiler

 


About the author

JeanDRacc

  • Trashcan, Plastic bag galaxy.
  • Uraccsai - Flame haired blazing eyes pizza hunter.

Bio: Hi There! Trashcan raccoon here!
I'm just a puny raccoon trying to do something with a newfound hobby. Not trying to become a star pro-writer, just to recycle part of my cardboard ideas for someone to read... and possibly, make someone happy with what I can write (Which I lack the confidence for).
As a raccoon, getting delicious human food requires lots of effort, I suspect most humans will throw me. So expect my stories to start with a bit of hardship for the reader and the characters.

Whatever you do, please don't throw me or attack me. I'm vaccinated.

/(=w=)\

I just wanna have a happy trashcan time, even if alone.
____^ __^
_~{ ´°^°`}~ Pizza!
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