Clyde
Legendary Artist!
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Thanks Bro
His steps splashed as he raced through every shallow puddle riddled along his path. To him it felt like his legs were clashing against an unstable surface as his left foot tripped up a little across the oily pavement. Another street corner passed as he dashed around it quickly. The clouds had already started to engulf the neighborhood nearby and, with each passing moment, the area became darker. It wasn’t a embracing darkness, but one that he tried to avoid his whole life.
His body kept a fluid motion as he ran, constantly looking forward and only forward. He wanted to look back, but just imagining the faces of those he had hurt made him tear up. Lines upon lines of numbers ran through his mind as he passed each abode. At house number 755, he stopped in his tracks before he approached the half-paved walkway. His blank expression remained glaring at the front of the house - a dull, tan house with only two floors and a few coffee grind-colored windows.
He bolted through the door swiftly before wiping his wet shoes against the welcome mat and dashing up the stairs. Having passed through his parents' room undetected, he lightly tossed his school bag against the wall. Dropping onto his single bed, he glanced at the clock, reading 1:35. His compact room felt even smaller as he contemplated the next few moments. Specific questions continued to enter his mind as he looked back at the door. Questions like, Is the school going to call because I ditched early? and, Have they found out that I’m home yet? He heard his father’s voice roar throughout the house; it was a sound of displeasure.
“He did what now!?” It became apparent he was speaking to the school’s secretary, "Don’t worry, he will surely get that detention and will be on time!" With that, he hung up the phone and slammed it against the kitchen counter. After his father began storming up the stairs, the boy rolled onto the other side of his bed and laid straight against the floor, almost completely hidden from view by the lines of his mattress.
He flinched when he heard his father approaching his room. Damn, he thought as he quietly connected his palm to his face. My book bag…Maybe he won’t notice… An uncomfortable silence followed quickly as his presence closed in.
“Son…” The voice echoed from down the hall. He opened his eyes to see that no one was near; he sighed in genuine relief and gratefulness. Though he was safe, he noticed that his father was at his younger brother’s room. Past all the furious yelling, he knew his younger brother couldn’t take any more punishment. He leapt up and over his bed, stopping face-first at his door. ""Should I really take the heat for him? He is annoying, but Dad also said that if he continued to fail, he will end up sent to Military school." He sighed after taking a step into the hallway, “Dad…”
His father stopped yelling long enough to notice that he was being called. “What are you doing home?” Unknowingly his face showed every emotion no kid ever wanted to see. “Answer me, son. What are you doing home so early?”
After swallowing his fear, he spoke up. To him it felt like he swallowed a handful of rusty iron nails and when he tried to speak it sounded like he was mute. “I ditched school early today because I sort of got in a fight…” His younger brother just stared at him speechlessly, trying to grasp what was going on around him with his short arms until, he looked his father in the eye.
“Well then.” His tone dimmed down just slightly, but the dire hatred within his eyes still burned images into his youngest son’s mind. “I’ll deal with you later.” The faint connection between his youngest son and himself shattered to pieces as he redirected his anger to his other son, “Now as for you…” As his father dragged him away by his arm, he looked back at his younger brother with a grin upon his face. His little brother had seen that stare once before in his life.
One day after school he saw his younger brother being attacked by two other bullies. They had to be at least twice his age and size and still continued to take swings at him. Soon enough he came and shoved them away from his sibling and ended up taking a few fists to the face as well. Through the sunlight that was fading behind the trees his little brother saw that same bloody grin as he walked off with a teacher.
After he went downstairs his little brother just continued to stare at the silvery carpeting. Within his head he imagined his older brother being dragged down into the very depths of hell, but deep within his heart he felt like he himself should be there instead.
“Thanks…bro…”
< Message edited by Clyde E. -- 7/3/2008 0:06:03 >
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