A bit of fiction fun

Jack came running into the house, his cheeks all red from the cold wind and a long string of snot hanging from his nose. He threw his book bag onto the chair as he entered the front door, several books bouncing onto the floor. Shaking off his winter coat he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt leaving a slimy, snail like trail along his forearm. “Ma” he yelled as he went into the kitchen, that was full of the aroma of freshly baked cookies. Looking around he saw the bakeware his mother used in the sink needing to be cleaned, the oven was off but still warm from being on. “Ma” he yelled again, “where are you?” Going to the door that lead to the basement, he looked down the darkened staircase, yelling down, “Ma, you down there?” There was no answer just the sound of water dripping from one of the pipes and the groaning of the furnace as it worked to keep the house warm. The old home they lived in always seemed to groan and creak, at night when he laid in bed he swore he could see a man in the ceiling. “Don’t be foolish,” his mother would tell him, “there’s nobody in the ceiling and your father and I are in the next room.”
Still, as he stopped to listen he could feel his own heart racing, “Ma,” he yelled again, he could feel the anxiety begin to take hold, a cold feeing in the pit of his stomach. He ran into his parents room, the shades were pulled down, it was dark and his eyes need to adjust as he reached out toward their bed. The bed was empty in a frantic moment he jumped up onto the bed only discovering the bedsheets and blankets in disarray. Instinctively he knew that his mother would never leave her bed in such a mess. Quickly he went into his own room, the floor was strewn with his toys, a coloring book he was working on lay on his small desk, surrounded by bits and pieces of colored crayons. His own bed was still a mess, the way he left it when he went off to school that morning. “I need to find her,” he could feel something rising up from his stomach that seemed to lodge in his throat, this time he screamed, “Ma!!” His voice echoing down the hallway. He raced out of his bedroom, down the hall and out of the back door into the cold, clear winter air. He saw the clothes out on the line, the arms of the shirts blowing in the slight breeze, their arms seemingly stretching out to grab him. His eyes grew wide as he retreated back into the house, the smell of the cookies now more nauseating than being desired.
His world seemed to spin all around, then he reached for the phone on the wall. Picking up the receiver he could hear voices on the other end, “Ma” he yelled into the phone, suddenly mans voice, clear and not recognizable, spoke, “Who’s on this phone?” All he could do was cry into the phone, “Where’s my mom? I need to talk to her, I’m scared.” “Jackie,” it was a woman’s voice, she sounded familiar but so distant, like she was at the end of a long tunnel, “Ma?” He cried out, then there was silence.

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