The Truth About Truth

Sometimes it's easier to turn to lies and deception.

"Aden." Mother extended her arms out, took me and drew me into a motherly hug. Father stood to the side, looking sorrowful and grateful at the same time.

 

"Yes, Mother," I whispered. "I'm here." Are you here?

             

She let go of me and let me stand back. "The one bright light in my pitiful existence," she said happily.

 

"You're existence isn't pitiful."

 

"Aden, you know of my life. Drunkard father. Mother had to go die on us. Husband who's nothing but a lowly mechanic working at the store next door."

 

I froze. Father stiffened beside me. Yes, he was employed in the mechanic's shop near our house, so what? It was an honest job, one that he was frankly way too good for, but still. It wasn't like there was a lot of controversy about their marriage, English professor to lowly mechanic, it wasn't like anybody cared at any rate. Their parents were all dead. Nothing that excitingly Romantic or anything.

 

Mother grinned at me. "I have a great husband. I mean, great lowly mechanic. Pardon me for mistaking the two." She laughed. She was laughing hysterically.

 

"Mother..." I warned.

 

Her smile slowly melted into a frown. "What?" There was a pause as I refused to say anything that could provoke her further. She stared at me. "I know you never liked me, Aden," she whispered quietly. "You didn't like it when I tried to make you the best you could be."

 

I could hear the drum of my heart in my ears. I'm not being dramatic or anything, I could honestly hear it.

 

"You're afraid because of the truth," she said. "Do you want to know another truth?"

 

"Mother. Mother, stop it."

 

"Listen to your Mother, Aden. Here is the truth. Did I like you?"

 

"MOTHER!" I shouted. "STOP!" I was trembling. Shaking.

 

"Did I? I never had the courage to tell you this. My little Halo-playing son. And with no friends either."

 

"MOTHER, YOU ARE NOT YOURSELF!"

 

"Well here is the truth Aden, here is the truth. I--"

 

I sprinted out of the room and slammed the door shut.

 

I heard her laugh. "I may have loved you, but I sure was stupid!" she shouted through the door. I slammed my hands over my ears.

 

Father rushed out after me.

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"Where does Madness live?" asked Logic.

 

"He lives in every house, sire, every single one. Most try to hide him, most are successful. Sometimes, however, he shines opaque."

 

"Why," replied Logic. "I didn't know he lived in my house! How transparent he must be!"

"Oh, he doesn't live in your house, but he might as well. You know the apartment directly connecting yours?"

 

"I thought it was abondoned!"

 

"No, that is Madness' true original home. No more than a fine line between yours and his, strangely enough."

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I collapsed onto the bench outside the room and began to cry. Real, racking sobs, the kind where you just cry and cry until you've run a mile and you think you can't cry anymore, only you can't help but continue to cry and cry and cry because crying is so much easier than actually confronting it. So I cried. I couldn't help it. Mother was gone, she really was. This was the devil version of Mother. The evil version.

 

I was vaguely aware of Father sitting beside me. He wasn't crying. He was staring at the door with a far off look in his eyes, there was something lost in him, too. He looked so, so, so very tired.

 

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You are afraid because of the truth.

 

I am. I know I am. That's almost the worst part. The truth. Truth. I am afraid of these truths.

 

The truth that Devil Mother is so much like Mother.

 

The truth that I wasn't worthy of Mother.

 

The truth that I don't have friends.

 

The truth that some part of me didn't like Mother.

 

The truth that some part of her didn't like me.

 

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It was strange, how so few actually liked Truth as a friend. Or as a person. Despite all the Romanticizing done of her, Truth was a being at a level that few could accept. It was that she wasn't a good person, it was that she was too good. It was so much easier to turn to Lies, who lived beside her mansion and scavenged his food from her garbage.

 

It was no wonder that Hate was winning the war.

Author's Note

On the other hand, sometimes Lies can be helpful...

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

"The truth that I wasn't worthy of Mother.
The truth that I don't have friends.
The truth that some part of me didn't like Mother.
The truth that some part of her didn't like me. "
You are a talented writer. The story is a emotional roller-coaster for the family. Hard to understand death. Lost of mind and thoughts can make us confused what to say and do. Thank you for the excellent chapter.
Coyote