Mother and Finn.

It was late evening, the sun and all its fiery splendor was finally extinguished as it settled completely in the water of the lake. I had been coming to “my” spot for the last few weeks. My notebook was always open as I watch those going and coming. I am a writer and I have been using my observations to assist with a bit of writing block.

It is something I learned years earlier, the old man with his cane, walking by the lake, was really a Wizard. The couple strolling along the path hid a horrible secret behind their smiles. The young jogger was to meet a horrible end as she ran alone through the darkening night, so much to watch and to write.

I waited for her. She always came with child in hand. She was beautiful in her own way. I was struck by how tenderly she held her son’s hand. How he would let go to run through the grass and she would stand there with such a loving look of worry. Her long auburn hair fell straight below her shoulders. In the darkening light of the evening her eyes appeared as two dark pearls on her face. Her lips were full and a light pink. She wore no makeup, but it added to her appeal.

The boy was equally as intriguing, no more than eight years old. He wore jeans and a tee shirt, though the wind was chilly. He ran with endless energy and delighted in anything that caught his eye. His name was Finn; I had had the pleasure of his company 2 nights ago. He ran up to me full of questions about my notebook, my life, my family, and so on. I felt as if I was talking to a hurricane.

There they were. Walking the same path as they always did, Finn holding on to her hand until they were completely in the park. He bolted away from her full of that energy the young have. In honesty, I was a bit jealous of it.

“Be careful Finn!” She yelled to him as he trampled through bushes and swung on low branches.

I imagined her to be a young widow, left to deal with the world as a single mother. She is trying to make ends meet with a day job that only left the evenings for her and her emotional child. A classic tale of love, life and death, I was so busy writing that I failed to see Finn in front of me.

“Hey George,” his smile was infectious.

“Hello Finn, how are you today?”

“I’m good; we’re going to be leaving soon.”

I was a bit concerned; I hadn’t even managed to get his mother’s name from him.

“Oh, are you and your mother moving?” I asked with as much concern as I could muster.

Almost as if it was planned, my muse walked up behind Finn. She put a hand on his shoulder and Finn gentle placed his hand on hers. The image was almost stunning, a mother’s gentle touch, a son returning it.

“I hope Finn isn’t bothering you,” her voice was kind.

“No…” I paused hoping she would fill in the blank.

“Sorry, my name is Gwen,” she held her other hand out and I took it. It was cold, but so very soft. My mind wandered into dirty thoughts.

“He is the one I was talking about,” Finn said to his mother. I was glad he had spoken of me.

Gwen looked around in an odd way. I followed her stares, but could see no one. She removed her hand from the boys shoulder and turned her back.

“We are alone,” she whispered.

The boy’s eyes changed, his mouth opened wider than it should have. His teeth, he had too many sharp teeth. He landed on me with a force that was not possible. His strength overpowered me with ease. I felt him bite down on my neck and heard the sounds, sickening sounds.

I can still hear his voice as he pulled away.

“Now I have a Daddy,” his laughter was infectious, like his bite.

Mother and Finn.

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