Hilltop’s Short Tales Issue 7

She had no idea what was going on, just sitting at the top of the stairway, and hearing yelling. Once again that woman was back, there were just no chances, of getting away from that madness. Sadly in knowing, that woman knew it too, stating words that struck as acid ice to a burning open flesh wound. Going again, with words that blur in the yelling, just showing no signs of stopping. Never stopping, until it just goes quiet.

The final words and a door slamming being the final nail head ending.

Kate bolted up awake, when, though unsurely if it was true or not, upon hearing the echoing of the door, just outside her room, the memory of the dream, linger to the touch. A light shiver took hold on her, but shook it away, for a second to clear her head, breathing calming breaths if she could.

Soon going into a blind search in the dark to find her prostatic leg, strapping it in a flash, so many ears with it, didn’t glance at the straps, before long, was out the door. Going down the stairs three at the time, giving a last jump and turn to head where the kitchen was, finding her mother sitting at the table, face covered by arms as she used the table, to seek hidden peace.

“Where’s dad?” Kate asked, whispering her words, speaking more to a frighten doe than her mother, from how the tone was used; even her steps were fudgy with each go. Though as a tick, spoke again, carefully placing a hand on her mother’s shoulder, when speaking. “Mom, are you okay? Where’s dad?”

After a moment, Kate took a better glance at her mother, letting it dawn on her, that she was asleep. Leaving Kate a little lost, glanced at the digital microwave clock, it was well starting in the morning.

Kate stilled face with confusion, looking back her mother, thinking. Not much else with a sigh went to find a blanket for her mother. Passing by living room area, to the hall closet, taking a nice but thin blanket for her mother to finish that quick deed, noticed a piece of paper fell from her mother’s hand, when the elder woman lean around against the sudden pressure of the blanket, soon going still once more.

Without another glance, grabbed the paper, reading what was very much her father’s writing. Coming to knowing he has been gone for hours and by the state of her mother, has yet made word of any kind of update.

Uncertain, but almost as an old bad habit that never really died, Kate gazed way to the front door. Eyes just zooming from the window that had a easy to catch view of the driveway, going back to the door, maybe she just blink and her father will just walk right back in.

“Dad’s not like that . . . he’s not . . . nothing but his own person.” Kate hushed words to her, leaving her mother be, going to the living room, opening the curtains a bit more for a better view outside. Having her frown, when seeing the bad weather of a heavy rainfall, while the dark dense clouds just slowly rolled around in the sky, having the yellow glows of the streetlights, give little break ways from the harsh unpleasant nature.

Glance her eyes about, wanting to go out, but gave a noisy airless groan of what happen before, and a curfew was set after that fire broke out not far from where her friend lived. Feeling trap was the least of the worries, everything for the most part was okay, everything was okay. She didn’t want to make anyway upset, but it wasn’t fair that she was, mostly for that one of the people she promised, was out there in that heavy storm.

Her train of thought broke, when a patter clatter tapped again the window, signing that rain turned to hail. Another groan was given, making certain of Kate’s mindset, which it was going to be one those nights.

A little bubble of thunder, further that point, having her frown to it. Kate covered her ears when another roll of thunder came in, wanting to block it out, turned on the TV, keeping the volume low for her mother, but loud enough, that the thunder was just static. Sparing a moment to grab the phone, cord and all, moving it closer to her seat, as she soon sat there, watching whatever played on the screen.

Her eyes trailing back to the phone, but back and forth, just waiting, until something. With having her back facing close to the front door, phone within a quick and needed chance to sit up to answer it, the window was just a head turn away, the TV being the focal center point, which she used as a break and relaxed, to calm her sudden nerved body.

Now she just waited, waiting for a door to open, her mother to wake up, the phone to ring, a familiar busted headlight of a car to pass by, anything at all, but she only waited. Waited and waited.

“Please come home . . . please.”

If she felt the coolness of her tears fell, she made no move to wipe them away, as she sat there in the barely lit room. Waiting; for a sign, that she only knew the meaning of, and if it was coming, it wasn’t as soon to what she was hoping for.

In that, she tucked herself close to her person.

“Come home, daddy, please.”

The End.

 

 

 

Sorry for such a long wait for this issue and likely the next one, so many things were coming up, but see Jockerlee77, I didn’t forget! Feedback and further ideas are always welcome, so don’t be shy.

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