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Smiled? Dad smiling?! Something had to be wrong! Entering the house, I tiptoed to my moms room, and there she lay, exhausted, on the tatted blankets of the lumpy single mattress. Her forehead shone in the light with sweat, and her identical blonde hair (to mine!) was strewn everywhere except into what was originally crafted as a ponytail that morning. She was obviously sleeping, and the room was a downright mess; the small couch was turned over, the pillows and blankets were everywhere, the curtain was half torn down, the bedside table was down, and the lamp had fallen and shattered. What disturbed me the most was all of my mothers hard worked writings were torn, the writing was now hardly legible, and were scattered on the floor. Tears were stained on my mothers face and clothes were everywhere. Cautiously, I draped a blanket over my mother and as silently as I possibly could, I tidied the room and turned off the light that hung down from the roof, retiring to the kitchen.
I shut the door and locked it, closing all the blinds and material curtains in the house. And then, my conscience provoked me to do something very unlike me; to tidy up even more! I washed the pile of dishes that had been their since last Christmas, I dusted and fluffed, cleaned and mopped, vacuumed and hung, until the whole house was near to spotless. It was around one in the morning and I was exhausted when I finally finished and as I slipped into my clean bed sheets, my mind had forgotten about my father, I fell into a deep sleep.
When I awoke, I was surprised at the time; usually, I was out in the streets of Fendworth at five-thirty, but it was around eight, and as I quickly dressed into the clothes I wore yesterday, I opened my brown, worn curtains and was about to leave the house in the already, hot grimy heat when my mother stopped me, a curious crazy look in her eyes.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
TO BE CONTINUED................
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Wow!
Wow!
