Porcelain Shylo [A Original Creepypasta OC Story]

Chapter 1

Shylo sprang up in his bed after a nightmare. Ever since he was a little kid, he's had a reoccurring dream about his mother.

Shylo remembered running, in a dark forest. Barefoot, splinters hit his feet as he kept the pace.

While he was dreaming, he never knew why he was running. But he knew that if he stopped, it would be bad. The frail, skinny boy descended deeper into the forest, not caring about the cold, sharp wind that hit his throat.

He was on the verge of tears. He wanted to break down, and give up. Everything in him wanted to shut down, and just let her catch him.

Who knows what she would do to the poor child. He remembered..

It was mother. In this reoccurring dream, or should I say nightmare, she would always chase him for hours. His fear of his mother grew even stronger every day, as she became more cold, and disgusting.

He stopped for a second. He stood still, listening to his surroundings. At first, he heard nothing.

Then, all of a sudden, a loud cracking noise could be heard behind him.

A chill ran through his spine, as he felt nothing but terror. Terror ran through his veins, as he caught his grip, and kept running.

"I won't let her catch me"

The only thing keeping him going was a small force, that felt like a small push. He felt nearly completely hopeless, but that small urge, the small beam of light and hope kept him going.

His throat felt like it would explode if he went any longer, but he knew that he had to keep the pace, no matter how hard it was. This was life or death.

_________

What a dream that is..  He thought as he got out of bed, weak and shaky.

He walked up to his dresser and took out some clothes. He didn't have much, due to the fact that his mother never worked.

Him and his mother basically lived off of child support, that was nearly gone.

After he was done getting dressed, he brushed his teeth and quietly crept down into the kitchen, to see if they had any breakfast.

He doubted it. That's another thing his mother failed to provide.
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You see, a few years before this very day, something tragic happened within his family. Every one of his other family members stopped talking to him and his mother. It was a windy, and stormy June day, and Shylo was busily at school.

He had no clue what would about to go down. Meanwhile, his mother was at home, doing who knows what. Piddling, writing, or doing what ever she did. She usually worked in a garden, growing her roses. When Shylo was little, his mother would always rave about how she grew these dark, plum colored roses, and how she loved the roses more than Shylo.

This made Shylo want to cry. All he wanted was his mother's love, and his fathers love.

His father was completely different. Opposite. His father was named Erik West. A kind and gentle man. He had dark grey hair, chocolate brown eyes, and always smelled like Old Spice Cologne. Shylo felt so comforted around him, and would tend to sticking around him to avoid contact with his mother.

His father was Shylo's only sense of comfort, considering that he had no friends.

His father looked after him until the very end, and Shylo appreciated when he would defend Shylo from his mother's attacks.

But then, his father had a bad accident. Shylo came home from school one day, and was tired from tests, and exams. He quietly sat his backpack down on the floor and turned on the small TV that his mother got from a garage sale. At first, Shylo saw nothing interesting. Cartoon Network.. No. Food Network.. No. None of the channels seemed interesting.

He mindlessly flipped through the TV with the remote, hoping to find something amusing, something that would keep his mind off of school.

Then, he stopped on the local news channel.

I am your host, Michael, and today we have very bad news. A local news excerpt shows a very tragic accident that occurred at exactly 12:00 PM last night.

A man by the name of Erik West, had been brutally murdered in the city. Police officers and detectives are on the look out for the culprit.

If you have any questions, or concerns, call this number. 1-800-ERIKCASE

A picture of Erik appeared on the TV screen, along with a search warrant.

Shylo fell on his knees to the floor. He was speechless.

"This... This can't be happening." He put his head on the floor, and held the sides of his head with his hands.

Shylo let all of his built up emotions out at once. All of the pain he had endured, plus, the grief of his dead father.

"WHHYYYYYYYYY" He screamed and cried in unbearable agony. But not physical pain, emotional pain.

That was the moment he knew that his life would never be the same. The man that he had known all his life, and trusted so much, and loved; had been killed.

Why was his life so bad? Why did all these things happen to him..

The weight of all his burdens felt as if they fell right on his back. He couldn't move. All he could do was cry.
___________________

He hesitantly opened the fridge door. A feeling of sadness crept upon the boy. He looked down, and started tearing up. "Why can't I just have some fucking food.."

For once in his life, he just wanted to die. He had never felt anything this hopeless. And for food? Something was definitely going on.

The room felt heavy, and it was hard to breathe. Nothing felt right.

"Shylo." Said a voice from behind him.

Shylo panicked. I guess from all the trauma, nearly anyone that approached him, scared him. He would always pull his hoodie up and flinch.

This would cause many people to worry. They could tell there was something wrong.

Shylo slowly looked at his mother, trying to keep calm. But she knew that he was deathly afraid of him, and she used this fear to her advantage.

He stood, and tried to remain clam. "Shouldn't you be at school?" She said in a low, monotone voice. This voice she put on made him shiver with every time she used it.

"It's f-five AM, Mom... I go to school at 6:30.. Remember?"

He hoped that what he said wasn't disrespectful, or rude in any way. Cause if it was, he'd get beaten, till he was bloody and blue.

He kept still, while the look of anger and enragement filled his mothers eyes.
He didn't know what to do. His heartbeat was at 100 percent, and he almost knew that what he said did not please her.

After a bit of hesitation, she spoke. "Hurry up."

A feeling of relief washed over him, and he shook his head.

He picked up his backpack, zipped it up, and headed out the front door.

He sighed, as he knew that another day of school would bring more stress upon him.

"At least I'll be away from her for a while."