|Air (standard:drama, 2997 words)|
|Author: Doug||Added: Jun 21 2003||Views/Reads: 1661/1083||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A boy riddled with thoughts of his crazy parents, his loveable sister, and his forlorn God.|
I awoke in the midst of a wonderful dream. My eyes were not yet adjusted to the dark, but the porch light streaming through the window allowed me to see my bedroom as I had left it when I had retired for the night. In the bed next to mine, I perceived the shallow breathing of my sleeping sister, and in a little bit I could see her tiny figure rising up and down with each breath. I smiled, pleased. Her sleeping, unlike mine, was frequently undisturbed. It was always the good dreams that awoke me, because I knew that such good things could never happen and so must be false, and I always awoke when that realization came about. The nightmares, however, lasted and lasted until I was awakened by the sun's light through that window. I had such terrible nightmares—but they were real, I could have sworn they were real. I could feel the cold hands gripping my wrists and my neck, and I would sit up violently in bed only to find my father trying to kill me. That last was not a nightmare. My father always tried to kill me, but with minimal success. My mother could not have been so lucky. I had stood and walked to my sister's bed to kiss her on the forehead. Such an angel, wrapped in her blankets and sucking her thumb. She was sick with tuberculosis. Only five years old, and already on her death bed. I smiled and stroked her long, beautiful hair. I leaned forward to remove her thumb from her mouth, then thought better of it, and, smiling, returned to my own bed. I could not sleep for the remainder of the night. I woke at around ten in the morning, and my sister had already left her bed. She was always refreshed in the mornings. I slowly rolled out of bed, naked, and stood to put on clothes. My sister exploded through the door, and I was not startled. “Jon, come see what I found!” she exclaimed happily. “Hold on a second,” as I dressed. She bounded out of the room and down the stairs to wait for me. I came down presently, and found my sister stroking a black cat that looked deprived and near death itself. “Where did you find that?” I asked her, bored. “He was out in the yard.” “You know you're not supposed to go outside, Beth.” “Oh, pooh!” “Pooh nothing, Beth. I don't want anything to happen to you.” “You're mean, Jon.” “I know, Beth, but it's only for your own good.” “Ok.” The cat slinked over toward me and rubbed itself on my legs. I kicked away violently. It hissed and bounded out the open front door. Beth could never remember to keep the front door closed. It slowed when it reached our well-manicured lawn and settled itself in the soft grass. I still don't know how cats survive outside when it's well below freezing. Especially the ones with the thin coats. But this one seemed to be happy. I heard another door slam and glanced upstairs. My father, naked, came down the steps quickly and elbowed me out of the way and into the wall. He paid no attention. “What the hell was that?” I regained my balance. “What was what?” He reached out and popped me one on the left cheek. I deserved it. “Don't be a smart ass. I heard a hiss.” “It was a kitty.” Beth was never a smart ass. Click here to read the rest of this story (267 more lines)
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