Mumma

Mumma

She hears the alarm go off. “Ten more minutes” she thinks. But the alarm woke the baby up, and even if she ignores him, his wailing won’t let her sleep any longer, so there’s no point in prolonging the inevitable.

She reaches to turn the alarm off, and switch the light on, shielding her eyes with her other hand from the glare.

“I’m coming baby, mumma’s coming.”

She sits up, and starts opening her eyes, but they seem to be stuck together. She reaches with her fingers to scratch the salt off of them, first.

What she touches doesn’t feel like salt, it doesn’t even feel solid. There’s some jelly like substance keeping her eyes closed.

“What is this?” Revulsion creeps into her voice, and she feels her stomach dropping. She starts scratching her top eyelids carefully, but they’re so sensible, and it hurts. She has to get this thing off.  And she starts scratching harder, but the thing won't come off.

She stumbles to the bathroom, and the baby’s cries grow louder and louder. She crashes into the sink and immediately turns the faucet, and splashes her face frantically. Things drop to the floor as she searches blindly for the soap, she knows this’ll sting, but she has to get it off, the baby needs her.

She starts scrubbing harder and harder, but the thing won’t come off. It’s as if it were some kind of super glue.

Is that it? Superglue? But how? Oh god… is someone in her house? Did someone do this to her?

She runs, crashing into walls, bumping her toe on the doorframe, crawling the last bit of the way. The baby!

She reaches the baby’s room, and immediately it’s cries increase, she crawls to the cradle and reaches inside. The baby feels fine.

“Did mumma scare you? I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry, mumma's being silly.”

And of course she was being silly, the house has the latest alarm systems, no one could’ve gone in. Not without setting the alarms off.

She smiles and tries to open her eyes, again. The thing is still on them.

“God! What is this thing?!”

She wants to cry, but she can’t. The corner of her eyes are covered with the muck. And suddenly the baby starts giggling. Of all things, it’s giggling, she looks down, and asks:

“What’s so funny baby? Is mumma making funny faces?”

But then she feels it’s tiny fingers brushing against the thing on her eyes.

“No honey, don’t touch it.” She pulls her head back, but the baby keeps giggling.  And then, he speaks, his first word… and she’s so excited she forgets for a moment about the goop, and laughs and hugs the baby tighter.

“Oh my baby, yes I’m mumma, mum-ma, come on honey, mum-ma.”

“Duh-bah, duh-bah.” He giggles, and she bats his hands away from her face unconsciously.

“No babytums, muh-ma.”

There’s a noise coming from under the cradle…  Perfect, just what she needed, a mouse…

Duh-bah.

She freezes, mice don’t make that kind of sound, a kind of hacking followed by a thump…

Duh-bah.

There it is again; a guttural duh, something between a gagging sound and a yawn… and then a smacking sound, like when she makes fish faces at the baby and opens and closes her mouth.

“Get away from us!”

She stands up fast, with her baby between her arms, but then she steps on something gelatinous, but more solid, something that feels exactly like the crud on her eyes.

“Oh god, n—“ She slips.

She can only turn on her heels so that the baby will fall on top of her, and not vice versa, but she hits her head on the cradle before falling completely, one of her feet is still under her, and she can hear the bone cracking a moment before hitting the floor. She cries out, but at least the baby’s okay.

And then he starts giggling again.

“Duh-bah.”

Duh-bah.  Next to her ear.

“Duh-bah.” He giggles.

Duh-bah. Something wet on her cheek.

“Duh-bah. Duh-bah.”

She tries to scream, but she’s a second too late. There’s something on her lips, and she can’t open them. And the scream is stifled in her throat. She hugs the baby tighter. She sobs one last time before feeling the wetness on her nose.

“Duh-bah mumma, duh-bah.”