The Cursed Cups: A Tale Of Terror (An Older Fiction Satirical Story I Wrote)

         A note about the piece : When our son was a baby, one of the things I'd do (in my role as a dad) was wash his bottles. More often than not I wouldn't get to them right away (though I did my best). In talking with my wife about it, I half jokingly said, "It's like I'm scared of me." (Though I wasn't). This story was inspired by that.

           It was dark as I awoke. In sleepiness I awoke, in great fear I was ripped from a deep sleep abruptly! I heard the terrifying summons, a cursed voice, call persistently to me.

           Rising from the bed I stumbled through the house, horror gripping every part of my soul. “What was the voice?” Where did it come from? Why call to me? Why in the world did it have to call to me this early in the morning?!”, all questions I asked myself as a digital clock came into my sight, showing me the time.

           Carefully, I searched each room. Cautiously, I listened and looked. Still, the voice was heard, A voice which chilled my very soul! I continued on and arrived at the kitchen. I peered about as the voice grew stronger now. I followed it with great hesitation as I approached the sink. There they were! The very source of such terror! A light was turned on and sippy cups came into view, dirty sippy cups! I set to the task of washing them, vowing never again to let dirty sippy cups, and the washing of them, paralyze me with fear again.

Sidenote: If any of the writing on this blog has made a good impact on your life in someway (EVEN if it was something you may have enjoyed reading for a particular reason), please feel free to share this blog with someone else who could be blessed also. Thank you for your support! 



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