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TWO STORIES

ONE

The little angel sleeps so soundly, never knowing I am here. His mind is off to wonderland as his body stays with me. His skin is young and flawless. His hair is so soft and smooth. Some nights, I take pictures. Sometimes, I cut some bits of his hair to add to the collection. He never knows I am here.

The little angel reminds me of the last one I saw. She was not as quiet. Always making a fuss. What a mess she was, like a broken toy. I had to put her away. I do not like broken toys. But this one, not a sound in his sleep. Almost like he is dead; a beautiful little corpse. So tiny and fragile angels are. It fills me with pleasure just being so close to one. I could almost touch him, but I would not want to ruin his sleep. Sleep is vital.

The sunlight is already pouring into the windows. The windows his parents never lock. I never did like parents. Thinking they are the boss, parents should just rot away in a small corner never to be seen again. Luckily, his did not put up much of a fight. They never knew I was there. That is the beauty of sleep. You never know what is happening around you while your mind drifts away. You only realize it before it is too late, but the pain is still there. The pain never goes away. It sure is a quiet morning.

Has it been eight hours already? The little angel still rests in peace. I could stand here for eternity, but eventually all little angels wake up. Why could they not sleep forever? Why must I always help them? Well, I do not mind. I do not mind at all. It is time for one last picture.

Good morning.

My little.

Angel.

Story by Idil Evren

TWO

There he lived.
Tangled in his dreams and blankets.
The greatest 7 years of my life.
My son. The son I’ve raised alone for 7 years, with pride. He’s made me whole. Ways I didn’t think were possible. He showed me what it is to be kind. By the time he learned to speak I learned tolerance and compassion. Everyone told me I couldn’t support him on my own, a boy requires a dad they said. Everybody mentioned my age as if being 16 made me any less capable. Sure I didn’t have a degree or a million dollars but when did love stop being enough. We’re okay without a degree, and a million dollars. The diner pays enough, and our apartment is the place we call home. He has his own room furnished, and scattered with trinkets. He eats 3 healthy meals,and snacks during the day. He’s bathed and well-outfitted every day. He’s happy and loved.
Yes, I sleep on the sofa and skip meals here and there. No, I have not bought a new outfit in four years or had a day off in 6. I’d give everything to see my boy grin. I’d give everything to hear his giggle all day long. When I go to work I make sure he knows I’ll be back and that he will be missed and loved all day long even when he’s sleeping. When I can’t sleep I lay next to him and just listen to him breathing. I haven’t been good my whole life, I’ve haven’t always made the best choices. But never would I give up these moments to go back and be prom queen instead of having my son, instead of enjoying the greatest 7 years of my life.
Tangled in his dreams and blankets.
There he lived.

Story by Denielle M. 

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