Call for Mommy

"Mommy please, help me!" you plead into the uncaring universe.

Presumably you have a mother. If you did, you never knew her. For as far back as you can remember you've been alone, learning enough about the world to scratch a meager existence. Would she help you if you called to her? Would she even recognize you?

The law of attraction states the energy you put out into the world comes back to you. The universe may be uncaring, but it is full of things that do care. They care very much.

Your cry has worked. Your call has been answered.

She approaches. Shambling. Wretched. A fetid pile of wet rags perched on two skinny trembling legs. You can see no face, just two equally skinny arms that work to continually pile her rags back upon herself. She comes uncomfortably close to you before she finally stops. Still no face, but hot breath hints at something underneath.

"Mommy?" you ask, in fear and curiosity.

She slaps you with strength you thought could not be contained in such wiry arms. You almost lose your balance.