Accepting Applications for a New Mother

Mid-thirties, independent, financially stable, mother of one seeks mother to fill gap left by evil, demon queen/mother. Each application will be reviewed upon confirmation of non-demon status, and successful pass of psych evaluation. Please do not apply if you feel the need to fix your children, destroy their lives, or send them to hell.

Welcome back to my life. The last of hours have been, to put it politely, F#*$ing insane.

Well, I guess that was not polite at all. I am sure you will forgive me, just wait a couple of paragraphs.

Growing up, I was convinced that my mother was evil. To everyone around me, she was the sweetest woman. To me, she was always pissing me off and calling it an exercise in controlling myself. At the time, I just thought she was deranged and hated me. She jokes that she wanted to make sure I did not go all demon on people. Now I know she was serious about the demon thing.

How did this come to light?

How did I learn that supposedly my mother and daughter are demons?

Let’s just say it involved my mother, my daughter, and a creeptastic knife.

Now I understand why my mother has been a overly dutiful grandmother. She has constantly wanting to watch Hell. I just thought she loved her granddaughter more than her actual daughter, which she does, but she had motive. Nothing nice ever comes from my mother without a reason.

I had just gone to see a movie with some friends. My husband is away on business, so I was having a little night out.

Wonder Woman was amazing by the way.


I walk into my apartment. The lights are off and the only light in the living room is coming from candles, that are surrounding my daughter.

She looked even cuter by candle light.

Hell is giggling. My mom is chanting. I am standing speechless, mouth gapping. I guess I came in quietly because my mother did not notice me over her chanting and being evil and creepy. Suddenly, she takes Hell’s hand and with a black, jagged knife in her other hand cuts Hell’s palm.

At this point, my speechlessness turned into a rage filled with an almost never ending sentence of curse words and random internet acronyms. The sight of Hell’s blood made me feel sick. I knocked my mother aside as a dove for Hell, who is still giggling btw. Somehow I avoiding burning down the apartment complex, burning myself, and burning Hell when I scooped her up.

I could barely grab her little hand because my own were shaking so badly. It was shiny and covered in blood. Her blood. I grabbed her hand gently as gently as I could muster. I inspected it and saw no marks. Her skin was flawless. I wiped the blood away and all I found was a perfect little hand.

My yelling finally became understandable as I demanded to know if what I was seeing was a big, sick, evil, bad smelling joke. By this point my mother, just like Hell, is giggling.

What is wrong with people.

With the biggest, cheesiest smile she said, “She is a demon. I had hoped so. She is one of us. My little Hellen.”

Of course, this went over real well with me, not. By this point, Hell started to yawn and cuddled into my arms. The creepy candles were still burning, my house smelt like a burning Penzy’s store, and my mom was trying to convince me my daughter was a demon.

I snapped.

Well, as much as I can snap.

I not-so-politely told my mother to get out and never ever come back. Of course, she tried to keep speaking, but I just kept repeating a chorus of, “Get the F*%# out.” Eventually, she listened. She said she would be back tomorrow when I calmed down. Even with all the screaming, Hell drifted to sleep in my arms as my mother sauntered out the front door. She is so lucky she never let go of the knife.

I will never be calm about this, and I will never get that smell out of my apartment.

I am not sure if this was one of her tests. She is insane. I don’t even know what to do.




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