Edicius

A son stops talking to his mother for reasons that he couldn't tell, but he could write.

At the age of fifty-five one can only take care of so much. Edicius became a disturbed kid after the death of his father. His mother worked day and night to provide him a better life. Nonetheless, he grew up to become an introvert who stayed in his room the whole time. He failed in his academics but was obsessed in creative writing. He started off by writing down the many bedtime stories his father told him. It did not take him long to start writing some of his own. He delved himself into music and painting. He was eloquent in his works.

Every night he worked on his novel, his first one. He called himself a writer even though he studied IT in college. He took this major to get a better job and let his mother retire early, so that he could take care of her. Edicius’ mother loved him. She cleaned his room and did his laundry. He was her only son, and she raised him after her husband died of alcohol abuse. She was, in fact, growing more frail.  

Edicius’ became aggressive these days. He started ignoring his mother, or he was yelling at her every time she tried to talk to him. His mother distressed about her son’s drug use and quarrelsome relationship with a girl.  

Edicius fell in love with Hethna, who was a couple of years older than him. They were together for almost a year. He met her at a writing workshop. He later discovered Hethna’s fondness for writing. She was a published author with decent popularity. Hethna was dealing with her own problems, and later Edicius hauled into them. She was in and out of rehab for heroin addiction. Hethna lived a troublesome childhood followed by many counts of incarceration for petty crimes. Edicius and Hethna were on and off in their relationship. He hated every bit of tension between them. They loved each other in the good times, but weakened each other during the worst.  

Edicius and Hethna dreamt of a life together. He tried his best to get Hethna away from heroin but in the end, he took the fall. He dreamt of becoming a published writer. He longed for taking care of his mother her whole life. Now his dreams have dwindled. Edicius sometimes looked back at the day he saw Hethna. He pondered how things would be better if he hadn’t sealed his eyes on a drug addict.  

Edicius  just stepped in from the front door. His mother threw an empty flask at him. “Son give me one good reason to drink eight, not one, not two, but eight flasks of whiskey” she yelled.  

Edicius stood silent. He neglected her and walked straight towards her room. His mother was frightened about this. She did not want to lose her son the same way her husband died. Since Edicius’ birth, she tried to give him the best of everything just to prevent this day. Today she felt her each effort went in vain. Seeing her son ignore her, she cried, and she shrieked at him until her voice desiccated.  

That night she didn’t sleep, she recalled the days of his childhood. How he crawled behind her whenever he was being mischievous. His apple red cheeks that caught the eyes of everyone nearby. His chubby hands were as soft as a fluffy bear, and his smile mirrored his father's. Her pillow soaked in tears, she crouched up on her bed and regretted this life of hers. This life where she lost her husband; her high school sweetheart. Now on the verge of losing her son, she wept all night and almost every night after that day.  

Edicius heard his mother wail every night. The cries echoed in the rooms while he numbed himself over a dose of heroin and stayed silent.  

For another week, his mother tried to talk to him. He didn’t voice a word. He failed to show any remorse and pretended like there was no one else in the house except him.

The other evening Edicius came into the house high as routine. He didn’t see his mother pleading him to talk like the previous days. Eerie silence took up the house; the dinner wasn’t cooking, and none of the lights were on. He hesitated but still called out to his mother, “Mama, Mama!” even so, there was no answer. With every passing second, his high wore off a bit and fear crept up in his heart. He staggered down to the garden; she wasn’t there. He called her phone. It rang in the kitchen. He checked each room before he opened the door to his.  

There next to his bed, his mother laid unconscious. In the past few days, she felt miserable and suffered severe headaches. Upon finding the apparatus used to consume heroin under her son’s bed, she toppled down in agony. Edicius did not try to wake her up. Instead, he made another shot of heroin with more than his habitual intake.  

He rested down on his table. Only a few pages were left to conclude his book. He was no more in confusion about his ending. He drew out his flask of whiskey and chugged almost half of it at once and started writing. He finished the book. He stuck a note on his computer. It read, "Please publish this book mother” with his signature at the bottom.  

He sat down beside her, looking fixedly at her and reminiscing all those memories. He felt her pulse, it was beating slow. He now called the ambulance. He finished the rest of the whiskey. Edicius stretched to kiss his mother on her cheek, “I love you ma, and I am sorry. Good-bye," he said, with his tears rolling down. This was the only sentence; he spoke to his mother in the last ten days. In a haze, he injected himself with the heroin and fell oblivious.  

The ambulance came in and found Edicius clinging to his mother’s hand. They took them both in the hospital. He died on the way. His rational state of mind jacked by his addiction, led him to this tragedy. He left his mother apart despite having dreams of better days with her. Edicius succumbed his life to escape from his fragile mind.  

His mother was in the hospital bed when the police broke the news about her son. Edicius' committed suicide by overdose. She felt devastated. Her heart dropped, and she could not think. The doctors could not pacify her. Her mental condition was deteriorating. Day after day, she would be hoping for her son to come through that door. She demanded to leave the hospital but got refused. Things were getting out of hand as Edicius’ mother was losing her mental stability. She took in many therapeutic treatments and drugs to tranquillize.  

One day, her temperament went over the limit. She became aggressive and abusive towards her caretakers. This led the doctors to consider her as mentally unstable and requested psychiatric attention. During her hours in the psychological treatment, she relapsed. Her effort to come up and above a sound state bungled as soon as thoughts about her dead son crowded her mind. The psychiatrists were about a day or two of attesting her transfer into a mental hospital. She circulated within different hospitals and clinics for a few months. Her wish was finally granted by the authorities. She was allowed to spend a week in her house under strict supervision.  

Edicius’ mother stepped inside the house. For the first time in the past few months, she felt alleviated. She jumped around in joy and went through each room. She cooked some food for herself and her caretaker. She felt the embrace of her son and husband within the premises of her house. Tears rolled down her eyes when she pulled out the family album. She traveled back and forth in time, encapsulating herself in the memories.  

With fright and boldness at once, she started cleaning Edicius’ room. It was just as it was on the day he breathed his last. She saw a note on his table, which read, "Please publish this book mother” with his signature at the bottom. Her caretaker was in the room with her. “Could you give me some time alone?” she requested. With pity in her eyes, the caretaker replied, “Sure Madam, I will be in the next room."   

Edicius’ mother opened his computer. She searched through the files and folders for a manuscript. Within a few minutes she saw a file named, ‘Title- Raised by Mother'. She opened it. It was Edicius’ first and last book. It was about the days he spent with his mother. She read through the pages smiling whilst her face drenched in tears. The caretaker knocked many times at the door with food and water, which she denied.  

It was until midnight when she was about to finish reading her son’s book. The caretaker threatened her if she denied to eat her food once again. She let the caretaker in. “Madam, I will have to report to the authorities if you continue showing this behavior.”  

"Ssh... ssh.. I am on the verge of finishing my son’s book” she whispered. The caretaker sat down beside her and watched an old woman in desperation. As if she was to find her son inside the computer. “You know. I never realized my son loved me this much. He wrote every little thing which he felt for me but could not say it to my face. I am a fool for thinking he was a disturbed kid” she sobbed.  

“My son is in this book, and I can sense it. I can see and listen him say all these things to me. I will fulfill his dream, and I will publish this book for him” she was at the last page of the manuscript.  

“Soon she will discover that I am gone, but she will know that I held her hand until my last breath." This was the ending line of the book written by Edicius before overdosing himself with heroin. Edicius’ mother fell into the arms of her caretaker and wept.  

Her caretaker counseled her through the night. She gave Edicius’ mother the hope she needed to surpass her current mental state. In that week, Edicius' mother learned to cope with her situation. She sent her son’s manuscript to various publishers and waited for their response. The caretaker contacted the authorities at the hospital. She made sure that Edicius’ mother was fit to stay at her house but under one obligation. There was to be a caretaker until the time she proved to be mentally fit. Edicius’ mother recovered in time. She received calls from few publishers and consulted with each one of them. Finally Edicius’ book was out in the public.

“Raised by Mother” became a bestseller within a year of its release. Edicius didn’t only become a published author, he became a famous one. Edicius’ mother shared the story of how she came to the point of publishing her son’s book. This story of hers itself touched the hearts of millions. It gave belief to the hopeless and gall to the feared. She sat in every press conference and speech on the behalf of Edicius. She broke into tears on each of those appearances and carried to the public the influence of her son in her life.  

Author's Note

Does it satisfy my intention of a mystery? Does it make you feel sad? Does it make you emotional?
How could I improve it?
Does it make any sense at all?