Light (scene 2)


In the dark bedroom, I awake with a start. That sound, what could it have been?

I listen. It’s late.

From the next room, raised voices quiver with emotion. Mama and Daddy—what are they fighting about this time? I’m only ten. What do I know about these things? Noises come through the wall—scuffling, muted by carpeting.

I fear. One night, they will go too far. A part of me is sure of it.

I slide out of bed and make my way down the hallway to the closed door. My hand on the doorknob finds it locked. With fierce determination, I twist and jiggle the doorknob.

Then I stumble back. In the bright light, my eyes are slow to respond. Is the door suddenly open? It swings inward a bit, perhaps a foot. As my eyes focus, I see in the bedroom the contorted faces. My mind makes no sense of what Mama and Daddy are shouting about.

And then I see it. On Daddy’s arm I see a patch of bright red. Is that blood?

Mama keeps a loaded .22 pistol in the nightstand. A few times I’ve spotted it under her pillow. After I see the blood on Daddy’s arm, I recall the sound—that sudden crack, the noise that jolted me awake. A bullet has passed through Daddy’s left forearm.

As quickly as it opened, the door shuts. It’s locked. The fight rages on. I stand in the hallway for a time, hearing but not understanding, recalling images the light revealed while the door stood open for those few seconds.

Back in my bed, fresh sounds and sights replay themselves as fighting continues in the next room. Worries fill my head.  It’s dark.  At long last, I drift off.

  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: