Mother's Journal

Sometime during the fall, I had closed my eyes. I felt something hard hit my head, and my eyes sprang open in surprise. A book struck my head and tumbled into my lap. I looked up, and a short ways up was Carson, holding a candle to light himself, smiling down upon me.

“Carson said that you shouldn’t take this path. If you had taken the door under the carpet in mother’s room, you would have ended up in the garden. It’s much nicer by comparison to the basement.” Carson pointed to the book in my lap. “You asked why you were here. Look through that and see if you can find out. Try to keep it a secret from Mother, though.”

Carson walked away, and I could hear the wall panel slide back into place, shutting the secret entrance in his mother’s room.

I sat in a pile of laundry, baffled by how my seemingly long drop had resulted in a descent of only a few feet. The outcome felt surreal, almost as if the laws of physics had momentarily bent to accommodate my fall. Lights on the wall showed that I landed in dresses and shirts that fell from all over the house. There were also dresses too large to fit either Carson or his dead mother, leaving questions about who this “Catarina” the stitching spoke of was.

I ignored the clothing and stood, grabbing the book that Carson had dropped down to me. The cover read “Mother’s Journal,” proving once and for all that the crazed Carson had most likely written this himself after he killed his mother. I opened it, skimming for anything that caught my eye, stopping at an entry that sent a chill down my spine.

"Journal Entry: March 22, 1876

My dearest Carson has left me once again, and in his absence, I find that I curse his name once more, for he is no longer the son I know. Any and all love I had given him was returned in kind only in inane deception, using my emotions as a catalyst to rain hell down upon me. Well, in my anger, I slit the boy’s throat once again to start afresh with a new body. The new Carson will be the right one… Maybe next time he’ll think before playing with the neighbor kids."

The insanity of the passage was made apparent by the man’s dating more than anything else. Carson could only be in his early twenties at the most, judging by his youthful appearance and the mannerisms of someone still navigating the cusp of adulthood. And his mother wouldn’t be so fresh of a corpse had she been alive in that year. I contemplated the levels of his delusion as I read another passage and then another.

"Journal Entry: September 4, 1907

The new Carson has failed me like his predecessors. He was unable to handle his treatment this time around and died during the electroshock when I became overzealous in my approach. I thought him stronger than that in his limited form, but the fact remains that he is the weakest of his siblings. I must start again with a new body soon, for Carson is the only one, other than Catarina, that does not automatically hate me when reintroduced to life."

"Journal Entry: February 15, 1932

I have had to put Alonso, Gardener, Tabitha, Sam, and Alex into time out. Catarina and Carson still stay faithful; however, I have come to rely on Catarina less and less as her form has deteriorated from the beautiful being that she used to be into the monster she is now. I have decided to keep her locked in the chapel away from my sight until she perishes and can be made anew. Carson, meanwhile, has made progress in leaps and bounds since I have given him his new facial scars. His looks have improved much since acquiring them, so if I have to replace him again, that shall be my first gift to him from now on."

"Journal Entry: January 30, 1968

Early this morning, I caught that bastard Carson playing with his Lover’s Thorn, even though I had not given him permission. The dirty boy even had the nerve to cough blood onto my new dress as he gasped for breath with the shards of broken glass through his chest. We needed a new stained glass window anyway, and this way I could mete out his punishment and get rid of the old one. I’ll have the new Carson install the window tomorrow."

"Journal Entry: November 24, 1991

He has finally done it. Carson has reached my expectations finally. All of these years I have waited, going through countless bodies, have not been wasted. I believe I shall let him think on a reward for his good behavior. Of course, he knows nothing of desire, so I doubt he will tell me what it is he wishes for very soon, my perfect little Carson."

A folded piece of paper fell from the pages of the book. Picking it up and opening it, I noticed that the handwriting differed significantly, with elegant, sweeping strokes that felt deliberate and formal. The text was composed in letter form, its tone and structure adding an unsettling weight to the words. It was dated a few months ago and seemed to have a corresponding journal entry to go along with it.

"Dear Mother,

Carson would like to humbly request that the reward you so graciously extended to him twenty-three years ago be acquired in the form of a person by the name of Emily Blaine. As Carson has no understanding of the feelings he gets when thinking of her, he has decided to write this letter instead of voicing this in person for fear of decapitation. Carson does not wish to displease you, but this is what he desires. Carson would ask for your advice on the proper way of courting a woman. Carson would also like permission to see Catarina, as she is knowledgeable in these matters from when she was a sought-after young woman herself. Carson would appreciate it if you would not throttle him in your response next we meet."

"Journal Entry: April 1, 2014

Carson wishes to court some harlot from the streets named Emily Blaine. He wishes for my help in proper wooing procedure. I shall give it to him in spades. I must keep him from his sister, however, as she is likely to give him real advice on how to capture her heart. My perfect Carson shall know the methods I wish him to. And when he kills her, it will be my arms he runs to."

The concocted journal proved nothing, bringing more questions to my mind than answers. I am some kind of reward for him? Why on earth would he want me though? Is that what he meant by the reason for me being here? His falsely recounted memories were nothing more than an excuse for his actions. There is no way that I could believe anything as fanciful as this.