HOURGLASS

Charlie. What do you want to do now, Charlie? Would you like to hear another bedtime story?" his mother used to say. An answer was easy, because he was always excited to say yes. The truth was, he could never get enough of her sitting in the chair at the end of his bed and her reading to him every night. While her choices of literature were at times probably not appropriate, and far beyond his young age, her soft words up taking him to places that as a child, he could only dream about. Together, they had shared many great adventures. Oddly enough though, they had carried on this practice well into his teenage years. For him, though, it was the best part of his childhood. So much so, that it became an obsession. It was both wanted and expected. It was their 'thing. Little did he know that years later those private moments in time would come back to haunt him. The stories his mother had shared were carefully chosen and deliberate. Each one would leave such a lasting impression on him that over time, he had discovered that they had all been part of one giant manipulation. His mother had used them to mold his thoughts, feelings and behavior and turned him into exactly what she wanted. Now, for Charlie, the only question was why?