No sign of life
By Antonio Douglas
It wasn’t the spring breeze brushing pass the freshly light blue painted window sill or the sun peaking over the velvet curtains hanging in Jason’s room that shook him out of bed nor WRFM radio station playing from the smaller bedroom down the hall which barely crept beneath his door as the static came in and out.
Missing footsteps out his room shuffling through the hallways felt strange to him as calmness.
“Dad?”
The pale bright walls through out the third story Florida Apartment gave nothing back as his voice carried pass Dick van Dyke reruns on TV Land station.
Pass the cars trafficking mahogany painted fence guarding 1328 Foster Avenue from the outside world and the front door left open.
It was a quiet neighborhood after all and when Jason looked over at his alarm clock, it was only three in the afternoon.
Twilight zone had just airing and Rick wasn’t repeating his habit of haunting the apartment in confusion until he heard his son’s call.
“ Dad, come on, say something.”
A heart thumping against his rib cage grew faster every passing moment.
Damn dad, where the hell are-
Nikes shoes mark and gave a screech the floors as he froze at the sight of the front door.
“No! No! No! Dad! Where did you-”?
His eyes fell away from the door into the hall. Rick had ventured out before but never without knocking on Jason’s door to say he was driving down to see his parents in Georgia who’d been dead for forty years.
The living room had no signed that life had been there.
No comments:
Post a Comment