Momma’s Boy (Part I)

A GIANT woman was rushing towards him, her expression carrying a touch of concern and something peculiar. Something which Morris cannot exactly pinpoint, and he always prided himself in reading people like open books.

As she got closer, the features on her face got clearer. Just as the rays of the sun settled onto her scruffy brown hair, she bent down to meet his gaze. His cries simmered down to sniffles as he took in her presence.

Morris gazed upon her eyes like a lost youth lost into an endless sky of stars. Those eyes held so much life, so many emotions sparkling around her dark pupils, despite the dark bags which hang onto her eyelids. The skin along her face is pale and slightly marred with dirt. Her cheeks have a slight trail of dirt spreading across them and her lips seem awfully dry and bruised. She slowly nuzzles close to his face and his mind is bombarded with questions.

Who is this?
Why can't I move? 
What does she plan to do?
Isn’t this is a serious breach of personal space-

She smiles.

A smile which halts the barrage of questions scattering in his brain and all his confusion fades as he looks up to her face. It makes him feel safe and he doesn't know why. She then pauses for a moment, her 'GIANT' hands sliding behind his back and for the first time he hears her voice.

"It's okay baby. Momma's here. Momma's got you."

She murmurs with a smile, as she slides her fingers past his armpits and gently hoists him into the air. Her voice is drizzled with a mix of honey and peace, and the only sentiment which popped into his mind was a:
huh?

He was left totally blank.

Should he be more shocked at her words or at the fact that he just got picked up?

Before his mind can spiral into chaos again, the woman cradles him into her arms. Slowly, she envelops him in her embrace, making sure to not make any rough movements. Her hands treat him like he is the most delicate, most fragile thing in the universe - Like a flower which might wilt at even a bit of harshness.

Morris is just...there. Just there. Cradled in the arms of an unknown woman.

He doesn't know what to do or what to think. He had never received this form of gentleness and his soul can't grasp this feeling of comfort...but he doesn't protest.

The feeling of the soft pads of her fingers resting on his body...the feeling of her arms circling him, holding him with a hushed promise of refuge. There is a peculiar assurance in her touch.

It's a strange feeling.

"Shh...Shh...Don't worry, Momma's right here."

She wipes the dust on her cheek, with her shoulder as she maneuvers Morris around the small room, continuing to rock him. He is nestled in her scent, a mix of sweat mingling with the faint scent of wet soil in monsoon forests.

Morris's emotions are a mess.

He has yet to figure out the identity of this 'GIANT' and why she is...soooo...warm and...and...he doesn't even know how to say it.

She suddenly takes Morris and brings him close to her face, nuzzling her button nose onto his. She then rubs her cheek against Morris's face and he just accepts it, unable to even comprehend the meaning behind her actions, but for some reason the breach in his personal space doesn't seem bad at all. She then suddenly lets out a giggle, followed by a whisper which says:

"You are so soft and precious."

Morris is thrown into a pit of confusion yet again.

Hmmm, 'soft and precious' - A combination of words he never thought that he would hear in his life and...well he didn't, but he never expected to hear them in the after life either. As far as he remembers, he always had a full beard and multiple scratches covering his cheeks. Not the best match for 'soft and precious'.

The woman then shifts their position, as she holds up Morris, before resting his head onto her shoulder. She then hums an unknown tune and her warm hands gently tap his back in the rhythm of the melody.

Her humming is nice.

That is the best and simple way to convey Morris's thoughts right at the moment. At the moment her voice and the warmth of her hand is all he thinks about - All he wants to think about.

Just as the feeling of confusion mellows down to a momentary acceptance, she slowly turns away from the window which allows Morris to catch the reflection of them. Though the window is a bit fogged from the condensation, he flutters open his heavy eyes and....and what he sees....he is....What...the hell...?

He watches the reflection.

The reflection watches him back.

A baby, on the woman’s shoulder, watches him back.

Yes. A baby.

Morris has turned into a...baby.

He's just staring at the glass, almost as if the glass could explain the situation to him, and then the reality of everything crashes on to him like an avalanche.

The shelves aren't MASSIVE, neither is the door or window. The woman isn't 'GIGANTIC', it's him - HE'S A BABY!

Now, this piece of information did clear up the mystery behind the out of proportion furniture, but also added another slew of queries, like WHY THE HECK IS HE A BABY? This should be the perfect time for a round of panic and hysteria, but that’s not what transpires.

Why?

The simple answer is the overwhelming grasp of slumber, from the mixture of a hushed lullaby and gentle rocking. He is getting too drowsy to even keep his eyes open. He had been subjected to strong sleeping agents in his life, but they are nothing compared to this...this...sense of ease...like sunshine on cold autumn mornings...it's too peaceful.

It's getting too tiring to even form thoughts...

A nap doesn't seem bad. For some reason it seems perfect. Yes, that's the best choice. He'll figure it out when he....when he gets up...from his...sleep ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 .

***

The soft chirping of birds travels into his ears, slowly lifting the blanket of deep slumber. He feels his head resting on something soft and warm. It's very snug, almost making it impossible to open his eyes.

After a few sleepy murmurs, he finally opens his eyes and his blurry vision adjusts to the faint early morning light, enveloping the small room. His eyes fall to the woman, she is sleeping and her face is just inches away from his.

It's his 'Momma'.

Morris soon figures out that the 'soft and warm' object he is resting on, is the woman's arm. He has calmed down significantly, as the absurdity of the situation doesn't phase him as much - A good night's sleep can do wonders.

He now looks at the woman's sleeping face. She looks so tired and frail, yet when Morris looks at her, he finds a strange sense of safety and it bugs him because he doesn't understand why. He scans over her face and the light dark circles stick out on her pale skin. He notices the weird marks behind her ears, along with the ominous scratches along her skinny hands.

As Morris slightly moves, he notices that the surface they are sleeping on isn’t suited for comfort. He glances down and notices his condition. He is seemingly wrapped in a little blanket along with a padding of wool, and beneath it all is a thin straw mat. After scanning over his bedding, Morris looks over at the woman and notices that she was sleeping on the bare straw mat.

No blanket.

No pillow.

Just a thin layer of straw which hardly provided any respite from the harshness of the hard wooden floor.