The morning sunlight spilled through the kitchen window, casting a soft glow on the Shaw household. Barbara Shaw sat at the kitchen table, her expression clouded with irritation as she flipped through the newspaper. The crinkling of the pages mixed with the faint hum of the refrigerator, creating a mundane rhythm that filled the quiet room. She sipped her coffee absently, the bitterness grounding her in the reality of yet another exhausting morning.
Her eyes scanned the headlines, but her thoughts drifted to Sienna and Jonathan. Raising two teenagers had become a battle of wills. Sienna’s obsession with her costume project, Jonathan’s strange behavior—it was all too much. She muttered to herself as she turned another page, the words on the paper blurring as her frustration took hold. Her hand moved automatically, pouring milk into a bowl of cereal, the sound of the liquid splashing barely registering.
Inside the bowl, Sienna Shaw was fighting for her life. Shrunk to a fraction of her normal size, she floundered in the cold, milky sea, her armor dragging her down like an anchor. The intricate details of the warrior angel costume—once a symbol of her strength and creativity—now felt like a cruel joke. Her wings were waterlogged, the elaborate metal and fabric pulling her beneath the surface with every frantic movement.
She clawed her way to the surface, gasping for air as she clung to a floating cereal puff. The oversized piece bobbed in the milk, slick and impossible to hold onto. “Mom! Help me!” she screamed, her tiny voice barely a whisper in the vast expanse of the kitchen. The room felt enormous, every sound amplified and alien. She could see Barbara’s massive form looming above, her face impassive as she stirred the bowl with a spoon.
The spoon descended suddenly, sending ripples across the surface of the milk. Sienna’s breath hitched as the shadow of the utensil grew larger. She kicked furiously, trying to swim away, but the current created by the spoon’s motion dragged her backward. The spoon scooped up a cluster of cereal pieces, missing her by mere inches. A wave of milk washed over her, momentarily submerging her beneath the surface.
Barbara raised the spoon to her mouth, chewing thoughtfully as her gaze lingered on the newspaper. Her brow furrowed, and she reached for her coffee, taking another sip. Meanwhile, Sienna resurfaced, coughing and sputtering as milk dripped from her face. She tried to scream again, but her voice was drowned out by the clink of Barbara’s spoon against the bowl.
Desperation surged through Sienna as she watched her mother prepare for another bite. The spoon plunged back into the bowl, sending milk splashing over her. This time, it caught the edge of the cereal puff she was clinging to, spinning it violently. Sienna lost her grip and tumbled into the milk, her armor dragging her down like a stone.
Above her, Barbara’s spoon moved with mechanical precision, scooping up another mouthful of cereal. The sheer enormity of it was terrifying—a glistening wall of milk and soggy cereal chunks that could easily swallow her whole. Sienna thrashed wildly, her limbs burning with effort as she struggled to stay afloat. She managed to grab hold of another cereal piece, her fingers slipping against the soggy surface.
Barbara sighed heavily, her mind still fixated on her frustrations. She flipped another page of the newspaper, shaking her head at the latest headline. “Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath, the sound like a booming roar to Sienna.
The spoon descended again, this time closer than before. Sienna screamed as the massive utensil skimmed the surface, the rush of air and milk nearly pulling her into its path. She kicked away with all her strength, narrowly avoiding being swept up with the cereal. The milk churned around her, the chaos overwhelming.
Barbara remained utterly oblivious, her movements steady and detached. She took another bite, chewing methodically as her eyes scanned the paper. The sound of her chewing was deafening to Sienna, each crunch a reminder of how close she was to disaster.
The tiny girl clung to her cereal island, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her arms ached, and her costume felt heavier with each passing second. She looked up at her mother’s towering figure, her heart pounding with equal parts fear and frustration. How could Barbara not see her? Not hear her?
Barbara set the spoon down for a moment and reached for her phone, which buzzed on the counter. She picked it up, her tone sharp as she answered. “Hello? Yes, this is Barbara Shaw.” She paused, listening, her fingers drumming against the table. “No, I don’t have time for this right now. Can we discuss it later? I have enough on my plate as it is.”
Sienna seized the brief pause in the action, kicking her way toward the edge of the bowl. If she could just reach the rim, maybe she could climb out. But the milk was cold and unrelenting, the weight of her armor dragging her back. She let out a frustrated cry, her arms flailing as the current from Barbara’s spoon stirred the milk again.
Barbara, still on the phone, absentmindedly picked up the spoon and stirred the bowl. The motion sent waves rippling through the milk, knocking Sienna off course. She screamed as she was pushed toward the center of the bowl, the soggy cereal pieces shifting around her like unsteady rafts.
“No, I said I’ll call you back,” Barbara snapped into the phone, her irritation mounting. She hung up with a loud sigh, tossing the device onto the counter. Her hand returned to the spoon, scooping up another bite without a second thought.
Sienna screamed again as the spoon approached, its shadow engulfing her. She ducked under the milk, narrowly avoiding being swept up. Her lungs burned as she kicked her way to the surface, her vision blurred by milk and exhaustion. Above her, Barbara continued eating, oblivious to the tiny drama unfolding in her breakfast bowl.
The mundane rhythm of the morning continued as Barbara finished her cereal, sighed deeply, and stood up to rinse the bowl in the sink. For Sienna, the nightmare was far from over. But to Barbara, it was just another morning.
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