Writing Prompt

The mother peers into Jonathon’s mouth, seeing that his two front teeth are wiggly. “It’s about time!” She yells. “Those look pretty loose, they’ll probably come out in a couple days.” Jonathon smiles at her with half his teeth growing in, almost looking like little white specks protruding out from his gums. The mothers other son Nathan who is 2 years older walks in, holding up one of his molars. The mother smiles and she takes the tooth. “I’ll give this to the tooth fairy Nathan,” she says, putting the tooth into her pocket. “That’s my last tooth I think,” Nathan whispers, twiddling his thumbs. “What?!” His mother burst out. “You can’t be out of teeth, your not that old. Before you know it I’ll be pulling your wisdom teeth out!” “I thought you said the doctors were doing that?” Nathan asked. “If the doctors can do it, I can do it just as good,” the mother said smiling. Nathan walked away and started to watch on his iPad. “What are wisdom teeth?” Johnathon asked curiously. “It’s just extra teeth you don’t need,” she replied. “If you didn’t need them then you wouldn’t get them,” Jonathan replied. “But no one’s mouth is big enough for them,, that’s why we do it.” Jonathan walks away to resume playing games with his brother. The mother slipped into her room, and from in a small cabinet with a lock on it, she pulled out her heart shaped box. It was decorated with a red ribbon wrapping around it and decorated with photos of her kids teeth. She smiled and began to take the molar out from her pocket. It was still damp and moist, and some blood had stained its way onto the tooth. She gently sniffed the tooth and put it down. She opened the box, pulling the ribbon off of the box. Inside the box was a layer of styrofoam and soft cotton. Each tooth had its own compartment, she gently placed the molar inside the box. She had organized each out of the 18 teeth in order from oldest to youngest. The oldest teeth were browning and had dark patches of color scattered around its skin. The new youngest tooth fit right in with the others and she closed the box. She proceeded to wrap the ribbon around the box again, the same way she always did it. She smiled and smelled the box. She didn’t care if some teeth were rotting away, they were still valuable to her. She placed the box back inside the small cupboard, closing the door and then locking the lock back up. It looked as if nothing had been touched. She planned to tell Nathan when he had all his teeth out including the wisdom teeth. Most families do the tooth fairy, but this one collects teeth. The mother opens another small box, with one singular tooth. It was the fathers tooth that had been accidentally knocked off when he died of cancer. She always kept it with her, and that’s why she collected teeth, to remind her that her husband is still with her…always.

In a heart-shaped box, A mother keeps her children’s teeth It’s all for not Those teeth no longer keep

It wasn’t the baby teeth she kept But all the teeth of her children She pulled each tooth while they slept Into the rooms where she pulled them

In a heart-shaped box, my mother kept my baby teeth. It was something she had done to my older brother, sister, and myself. I was now looking at it, slightly disgusted and debating on if I should throw it out. But first...

I took a deep breath.

There were a ton of boxes. "Ugh," I sighed, to nobody. All these boxes were to head downstairs, with no elevator, into a small, compact car. I would have to make a few trips. It might be quicker if I trashed the boxes and their belongings and started from scratch.

"Do you need any help," a voice said from my doorway. I looked up. It was my mother. Her frail frame fit fully in the space the door provided, even if it was only a little bit open. "What's that you have in your hand?"

I felt bad for my mom. After I moved out, she would have nobody. My dad died seven years earlier - my brother moved out that same year, off to college, just like I was now. My sister met some guy on the internet and moved away when she turned 18. She barely kept in touch, but I didn't blame her. It came to light only a few years earlier, the year she moved out, that dad was abusing her. It really messed my mom up. I had no idea if my mom knew of the abuse or not, but she changed ever since the truth was revealed.

"Oh, uh, it's the teeth box," I said, ashamed that I was about to throw it away. "I found it with my stuff."

"Oh, my," she whispered, taking it from me. "This is my most valued possession. No matter where you kids go, I'll always have a piece of you with me."

I looked away, feeling bad that I was moving out. Leaving her here alone like this was pulling at my heartstrings. "Are you going to be okay here, by yourself?"

She looked up, tears forming in her eyes. "Don't leave. I don't -"

"I meant, do you want to...you know, go into a retirement home?" I felt instantly bad as soon as the words left my mouth. "The only reason I say that is because this house is old, and -"

"And I'm old, too?"

"..." Damn, I really messed up this time. Stupid me with my stupid words.

"I won't be lonely; I'll always have a piece of you with me."

I looked at the teeth box. It was turned upside down; she had spilled the teeth onto the floor.

"Mom?"

"Time to start a new collection."

She reached into my mouth and yanked. Blood spilled as I felt numerous teeth come loose from the gums.

In a heart-shaped box, black as congealed regret, she garners their teeth roots pointed, blood, stains, decay.

She counts them nightly, clicking like bones, a sad, tiny inventory of what the universe now owed.

Her gums now worn, the cries long numbed yet the box hungers, so she keeps it filled.

In a heart-shaped box, a mother keeps her children’s teeth Opening it on a daily basis, wiping and feeling sad beneath

Her lost memories and endless thoughts, of hugs and smiles The mind gathers past moss and worries, going for miles

The faded pictures of wooden toys, and spinning metal tops Ancient darkened photos, of her grandmother and ole pops

Where did my babies go, she wailed every night before bed Little did she know that there was no children, only in her head

In a heart shaped box, a mother keeps Her children’s teeth, sweet memories From times when life was playfulness And joy, and laughters, happiness.

She can’t remember how to smile, Too many years filled with goodbyes Locked her inside a mask of sorrow With no escape and no tomorrow.

You love them, right? Love’s not enough! You gave your heart? Well, life is tough! You want them back? Such foolish dream! You feel alone? You cry? You scream? They smile from photos framed in blue, But here, inside, it’s only you…

They did so well, such happy life! And silence cuts, worse than a knife.

Hey little girl, hey little boy, Don’t play with it, it’s not a toy! Your mother’s heart is meant to be An endless love, from sadness free.

A lonely mother, empty nest, Asking of you without a rest. If that’s your mom, somewhere, somehow, Please, child, just CALL YOUR MOTHER NOW!

Her eyes widen greedily as she pops the golden clasp to the heart-shaped velvet box and licks her lips. Inside the teeth are lined up in that same heart-shaped formation. Waiting to be plucked. Her finger glides over them, until she picks one, her thumb and forefinger taking it and lifting it to her lips before she pops it into her mouth.

Most people only know the feeling of a loose tooth when they lose it, but she loved rolling them around between her teeth. She allows herself time to skirt the tooth across her own teeth before she crunches down on it, a little sound of enjoyment leaving her.

In a heart-shaped box, a mother keeps her children's teeth.

The old box sits on the antique furniture, away from all the other decorations in the house. This item sits by itself with only it and the rustic dresser being the only decor occupying the nearly empty room.

The house was always quiet, hauntingly so. The air was always accompanied by a chill. Now and then you could hear the older woman talking to someone, but no one throughout the whole neighborhood ever saw anyone come out of that house but the woman, Mrs.Tellar.

The mean old woman muttered a few words to the person sitting across from her. The living room was dimly lit by the lamp next to the wooden sofas. She sat on one while the figure sat on the other.

"My dear, I wonder what we shall do today," she asked.

Her questions went unanswered. There was no one in the room but her. You could not convince the woman of that though. She would promise you that she was seeing her children.

The same children she lost fifty years ago. The very ones whose teeth sit in the lonely box upstairs belong to.

In a heart-shaped box

A mother keeps her children’s teeth

Who’s cries had once stole her from sleep

As they blossomed like a thorny rose

In teenie tiny pearly rows

One by one they wiggle free

Like paper boats drift off to sea

Just when the hugs turn into squirming

And their words begin hurting

Even if they don't understand

Why you keep their teeth in your nightstand

Because certain things have to fall out

What's that all about?

I hold her pearl,

and beauty is young It is a waterfall, before it cuts deep a roadtrip's first song It is the short grass of a freshly cut lawn

Though it is tucked away in a shoebox, Next to a bent sewing needle,

There is soccer practice And handing out sweets And the two wheels steered by unsteady feet My sweet thing, Beauty is young

And I hold her pearl, Tightly now,

Licking strawberry icecream while kicking your feet Down the slide Seeing other students you didn't even know to meet Then up the stairs to bed

Her world has changed There are no more grocery races in carts No more glittery nails Or picnics at the park And here is her pearl, In my hands. But she is still here Among the soccer team that takes her far And in the room that never seems to get clean There are still breathless laughs And warm tomato soup Even a new subscription-based tv series,

And I hold her pearl, Right here in my palm, And I know that beauty is timeless