I loved my son. (Horror short)

“I adopted Rubin. His mother, the love of my life, died from cancer. Truly a sad day, but not as sad as this day. Rubin became the love of my life, though he was not my flesh, he was my heart and soul. I will never forgive the monster that stole my precious Rubin.” Arnold sniffled with tears streaming down his face as he gripped the podium in anguish. The sweet smell of roses filled the room as the tearful guests wiped their sorrows with tissues and napkins before bowing their heads again waiting for the next sentence.

“Thank you, Arnold. I’m so sorry for your loss sir. It is a sad day to mourn the passing of little Rubin, the life and soul of the community. He was adopted by all of us as our relief from the monotony of our everyday. A sweet smile to match his rambunctious nature that kept us all on our toes. We have kept our eyes ready for updates but none have panned out to anything. IF anyone sees Rubin or his mother, please call the local police and we can move on with our lives normally.”

Arnold entered his home as he caressed every surface before he finally got to his kitchen where a pot boiled almost to spilling on the stove. He extinguished the flame with a wry grin, turning slightly for a spoon to stir the pot. Arnold covered the pot once more, on a mission to the basement. The dust free fell to the floor as the bulb flickered on and the musky odor swirled violently. Arnold inhaled the stench as he entered with deliberate steps.

“You know, I’m almost impressed by you son. It’s been almost two weeks.” Arnold said, clapping his hands together at a doll sitting in a chair by the corner of the basement, wedged between the wall and washing machine to help prop up the doll as it wordlessly, blankly, stares at him.

“You are a fine young man, you know that?” Arnold said as he lifts the doll into the air before rocking it in his arms like a baby. Arnold doesn’t even notice when the doll’s head flops to one side, nearly decapitating it when he sways too quickly. He pirouettes when the dolls head crashes to the basement floor, revealing the doll was none other than Rubin with a doll head on.

“NO!” Arnold screams as he watches the doll head’s pieces settled on the ground, leaving Rubin’s decaying face exposed to the world. “Oh Rubin.”

Arnold brings Rubin upstairs to his “doll room” where another doll head sat on the chair and three other dolls lying on the bed. “Sit still my boy, this won’t hurt. What was I thinking dancing like that anyway.”

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