Our mother was never very good at the give and take game that came with relationships whether that be lover, friend, sister, daughter and least of all mother, she was an avaricious kind of person, you see. She loved golds and riches and could have drowned in her materialistic ways if they took the form of water.

She would take and take and take until all you had left to give her was your death.

She was the kind of person that you could never truly leave, never truly escape from, you could move out, far away, you could cut off all contact for years, until it got to the point that you were never to sure if she was still alive,

but in the end... you would always find your way to her,

For she had a debt to collect, you see and she always collected.

The longest living child of our mother and yet still ever the younger sister, looked to her recently revived elder sister, as she stood bare footed on the wild, flower spotted field staring at the night sky, humming a shanty the younger sister hadn’t heard for hundreds of years, not since their mother was still alive and they were still small and young and unscathed by the world, by their mother. During a time when they had so much to give and so little to fear.

“She had died long before you and yet you were still trapped with her weren’t you?” The younger sister asked softly in a voice muffled with melancholy and hesitation.

“We are all trapped with her, dead or alive we always find our way back, there is no escape from her you know that. Each and every one of us granted life through her, always will be, even through death, it is what she believes she is owed in exchange for the life we were given.” The elder sister turns enough that she can look at her younger sister.

“She always collects and If the time ever comes for you little sister, you will will realise that the same as the rest of us.” Her voice held a certainty that would have scared the younger sister in her mortal days.

And yet still gives out chills in her immortal ones, she thought, rubbing her wrists, as if she could feel the fantom, intangible chains connecting her to their mother.

Her sister finishes with a soft kind of acceptance she never had when she lived,

“Her death didn’t change that, so why would mine?”