This prompt was really hard so I don't have that many words. What you are reading right now is something to work towards my 1000 word count. Anyway, please like this story if you like it and please read my other stories. It will also help if you followed me so I can also read your stories! THANKS!
Wilson Rolan was a boring boy. Tedious. Dull. Repetitive. So passionless that everyone around him was sucked into the vortex of his lifeless nature and became like him. Everyone except his mother. Mrs Rolan was the complete opposite of her son, a jolly, cheerful woman full of life and laughter. Her husband was on a business trip to Denmark for the next week. She desperately tried to change her child’s boring life, but now he was 13 and she had nearly given up hope. She wanted her beloved son to change, but he always refused to. He always thought, “Why should people be different from each other? Why can’t they always be the same?” He had the mind of a 60 year old perfectionist, so his room was unnaturally clean for a boy his age. Everything was black - his bed, his wall colour, and even his furniture! He never had any toys. Instead, he spent his days taking pictures of cars from his bedroom window. Of course, they were grey cars. His organised mind seemed to fail to fathom what were other colours used for when grey, the most soothing and relaxing colour was existent?
One morning, he woke up in his grey bed. In his grey room. He got dressed into his grey suit and tie, and exited his room. His mother was downstairs, holding a plate of bacon, eggs and ham, all piled up onto a plate. “Ummm… NO!” shouted Wilson, shaking his head. His mother's smile faded a bit. “MoTHER! Where are my cornflakes!” he whined. His daily routine went like this.
7:00 - Wake up
7:15 - Eat cornflakes
7:30 - Brush teeth, change clothes & pack bag
7:45 - Leave for school
4:00 - Come back from school
4:15 - Homework
5:00 - Shower
5:30 - Watch TV
7:00 - Eat dinner (Rice, pork and peas)
7:30 - Watch more TV
9:00 - Bedtime
He always ate cornflakes for breakfast, but his mother just wanted him to change just for one day. As usual, he refused and his mother had to throw her amazing breakfast into the bin, much to the amusement of her cruel son. “HAHA! Your cooking is so bad that even your own son doesn’t want to eat it!” Wilson mocked. The lady still had not wavered off her mission to make her son change his monotonous personality. She sadly scraped her son’s breakfast into the bin as Wilson started scarfing down his cornflakes gleefully. She suddenly had a bright idea. Why couldn’t she hide something inside something that he ate, and make him eat something different for once? She could barely hide her glee as her son walked out of the door to go to school.
As soon as her son left, Mrs Rolan went to work. She cooked the meat, and made her son’s dinner unnaturally early. You’ll find out why. Anyways, once the meat was cooked, she carefully slit open the meat and put some Skittles inside. You see, Wilson hated sweets. He never had any, but claimed that his teeth hurt. That was odd, because of his limited diet. Mrs Rolan just wanted to let her son know what it felt like to be a child, before he grew up and left his childhood.
Later that day, when Wilson entered the house, Mrs Rolan ran to her son and steered him to the dining table, where his dinner lay, steaming. His mother was watching him with wide, innocent eyes. “MoTHER! I’m supposed to be doing homework now!” whined Wilson, stamping his foot on the ground. She giggled nervously and said, “No. Mummy’s going to the gym, so eat your dinner early and you can switch your homework and dinner time around.” Grabbing her gym bag, she waddled out of the room and closed the door. Wilson heard the front door slam shut and the roar of his mother’s Toyota Prado as it grumbled down the road. Wilson grunted and sat down in front of his early dinner. Sniffing it cautiously, he poked the meat and wrinkled his nose. What kind of mother would force her son to change his timetable? he thought. The breathtaking aroma of the meat made his stomach grumble. However, he was a stubborn boy and sat there, crossing his arms. Now, his stomach was positively howling with hunger. He finally gave in, stabbing the meat with his fork and shoved it in his mouth. It tasted quite good. Using his spoon, he shoveled some peas into his mouth and chewed them thoughtfully. Why was his mother acting so odd?
Two hours later, Mrs Rolan opened the door with a cheery,“I’m HOME!” Wilson was sprawled on the couch, watching rewinds of America’s Got Talent. “Ssh! Darci Lynne’s just about to finish her act!” hissed Wilson. His mother turned off the TV and looked into her son’s eyes. “I have changed your life.” said Mrs Roland. Wilson looked at her, unable to fathom what his blasted mother was talking about. “What do you mean?” quizzed Roland, twiddling his thumbs nervously. “I put skittles in your meatloaf that you ate for dinner! HAHAHA! I have changed your life!” Mrs Roland laughed heartily. “What are Skittles?” demanded Wilson, tilting his head like a curious child. Wilson’s mother explained, “Skittles are a sweet that come in various colours that you just ate!” Wilson smiled, but his smile had no warmth. “So THAT’S WHAT THEY WERE!” roared Wilson, holding up his palm. Inside were those sweets, lying in a pool of saliva. “Wha- How did you find them?” spluttered Mrs Roland. “You darned well know that I examine all of my food before I eat it!” bellowed Wilson. Mrs Roland was speechless with shock. "What the fu-”