Work Text:
“Cecil! Bedtime!”
Cecil scampered inside the house, and closed the door behind himself. He toed off his shoes and dirty socks, wriggling his toes before walking to his bedroom. He passed his brother doing homework on the kitchen table before stepping through the door frame of his bedroom. His mother was already starting to hum, as she sang to him every night.
Mrs. Palmer smiled and pat the bed, and Cecil sat. She lifted a brush and started brushing his long hair, opening her mouth to sing:
“Prayer is the bell jar
You put over this goodbye
I'd rather leave this embrace between you and I…”
Cecil closed his eyes and hummed happily along, letting his mother’s voice wash over him. His mother smiled as she continued to move the brush through his hair.
“…Let’s lock out the bearded old man in the nightgown
He can tap against the glass but I'm not coming out
I build bridges with these arms, I will not build a fortress
In the circle 'round the kitchen table I say my ''amen'' because I feel blessed…”
Ms. Palmer put the brush aside and Cecil slid under his covers. He snuggled his pillow, and watched his mother sing for a bit longer.
“…Secretly hoping while we join hands you can't feel my trembling fingertips
If I sign this piece of paper do I sell my soul along with my duties?
We won't put our money where your Catholic mouth is
Even though the teeth are long gone, there's still bone beneath the gum
And there's a lot of potential in a mighty, mighty organ…”
Cecil closed his eyes as Ms. Palmer ran her fingers through her son’s hair. Cecil was drifting off now, and Mrs. Palmer smiled fondly at him. She glanced out the window, where the moon was illuminating the trees.
“…And they told us not to clap so, we clap as loud as we can
Because the reverb in these holy halls is like a long lost friend
He keeps on hitting the walls and comes all the way back, back again, back, back again…”
Ms. Palmer leaned over and kissed Cecil’s forehead. Cecil was peacefully sleeping by now. Ms. Palmer stood and went to the window to look outside.
“I want trees instead of gravestones, nothing to confess
I got a soft spot for your ancient books full of horror stories
I got a music in my head from long, long, ago and far, far away
And I still hum its tune, but how could I believe every word it says to me?”
She saw the flickering figures in the empty lot next door. She frowned, and glanced back at Cecil. He liked to call them hooded figures, she remembered, but wasn’t sure they were hooded at all, instead something much more sinister.
“We follow our own steps, while our shadows keep watching us,
The wrong step would be not to start this exodus.”
She closed the curtains and walked over to the light switch. She cast one more glance at Cecil before turning off the light and closing the bedroom door behind herself.