The New Parents is a short scary story about a boy who wakes up one morning and finds that something is very wrong.
My alarm went off at 7:30AM, just like it does every day. I rolled over, got out of bed and checked my phone. There were no messages. I stumbled into the bathroom and took a shower. Then, I brushed my teeth and fixed my hair in the mirror. When I was finished, I went downstairs.
The familiar smell of bacon and eggs was wafting down the hallway. I walked into the kitchen and what I saw made me stop in my tracks.
The man sitting at the table, reading the newspaper, was not my father. The woman at the stove, preparing breakfast, was not my mother. Both of them were strangers.
I backed out of the kitchen and sat down at the bottom of the stairs to gather my thoughts. I was in shock, unable to take in what I had just seen. Who were those people? What were they doing in my house? Where were my parents?
My mind was racing and my heart was beating fast. I didn’t know what to do. Should I confront them? Should I call the police? Was I losing my mind?
Just then, I heard the woman shout from the kitchen. “Honey? Are you coming down for breakfast?”
I sat there at the bottom of the stairs, unable to move, unable to answer.
She called out again. “Honey! Get up! Your breakfast is going to get cold!”
A minute later, I heard footsteps coming down the hallway and the man appeared.
“Hey, Son. What are you doing sitting there? Breakfast is ready.”
Reluctantly, I got up and followed him into the kitchen. He sat down at one end of the table and I sat down at the other.
“What’s the matter?” the woman asked.
“Is there something wrong, Son?” the man enquired. “Did you get enough sleep?”
“um… yeah,” I muttered in reply.
The man went back to reading his newspaper. The woman put a plate of bacon and eggs on the table in front of me.
I wracked my brain. Maybe there was an explanation for all this. Maybe they were just some long-lost relatives I had never met before. Maybe my parents had gone out for a walk. Maybe they were still upstairs asleep.
Finally, I gathered up my courage and asked them a question. “Who are you?”
The man smiled. “What kind of a question is that?” he said. “We’re your parents, of course.”
My heart sank. I almost gave up hope. I couldn’t process what was going on.
Suddenly, my phone started vibrating. I took it out of my pocket and looked at the screen. It was a message from my father.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, I would have an explanation of what was going on.
I opened the message. Inside, there was just one word: “Help!”
How I can tell if I am in the wrong house:
Dad approves of makeup abuse
Mom’s casserole isn’t nasty as usual, but actually smells average
Dog is a non-biter and is able to use the litter box
If i was in that boys position, i’d say “brb, gotta use the bathroom” and instead, i would get out of the house, run far away and call the cops and find my real parents.
“I’m your OTHER mother, dear. Now go tell your other father that supper’s ready.”
-The Beldam (“Coraline”)
Right and Wrong. A sence that you humans have. You could automatically tell if somethings wrong or right. If I were the boy, I’d just excuse myself from the table to use the restroom. Then i would call the police.