I woke up this morning before my alarm clock could infringe upon my sleep. I remained burrowed in my sheets, staring out the window at the bleak grayness of the sky. I could barely see the town bell that stood outside my window, for it was surround by fog.
Before my alarm clock had the opportunity to motion me out of bed, a knock on my door took its fortune. Before I could open the door, I knew I would find Daniel stoning on my door steps. He has become dependent on my presence solely for his entertainment.
I opened the door and Daniel's voice infiltrated throughout the house, "Clara-jean! Clara-jean! Where have you been? This town is in an uproar! You must look at this now". He threw a newspaper down on the oak wood table in front of me.
The headline read Ether Maitland Found Dead in What Appears To Be A Homicide. Followed by the date January 11, 2013. I could understand a typo in the paper, but for the whole paper to be issued amiss.
"Clara-Jean you must come in to town with me. There's a riot infant of the post office. We have to go!", exclaimed Daniel. He had been looking for ways to get me out of the house and I suppose this was his best excuse yet.
Daniel rushed me up the stairs to change, and we were on our way. As we approached the town, all i could see was the mob. People arranged shoulder-to-shoulder standing in front of the office waiting for an explanation. I scared the crowd, making recognition of who was there and that's when I saw him. Standing dumb-founded and alone stood my son. My son who had killed his father; my husband. How was he here? He should be at the asylum. Who the hell would let him out? The thoughts bombarded my conscious and I stood unconcerned with all my surroundings, but him. He saw me and by the look in his eye, I could tell he wasn't joyous about my presence.
Before my alarm clock had the opportunity to motion me out of bed, a knock on my door took its fortune. Before I could open the door, I knew I would find Daniel stoning on my door steps. He has become dependent on my presence solely for his entertainment.
I opened the door and Daniel's voice infiltrated throughout the house, "Clara-jean! Clara-jean! Where have you been? This town is in an uproar! You must look at this now". He threw a newspaper down on the oak wood table in front of me.
The headline read Ether Maitland Found Dead in What Appears To Be A Homicide. Followed by the date January 11, 2013. I could understand a typo in the paper, but for the whole paper to be issued amiss.
"Clara-Jean you must come in to town with me. There's a riot infant of the post office. We have to go!", exclaimed Daniel. He had been looking for ways to get me out of the house and I suppose this was his best excuse yet.
Daniel rushed me up the stairs to change, and we were on our way. As we approached the town, all i could see was the mob. People arranged shoulder-to-shoulder standing in front of the office waiting for an explanation. I scared the crowd, making recognition of who was there and that's when I saw him. Standing dumb-founded and alone stood my son. My son who had killed his father; my husband. How was he here? He should be at the asylum. Who the hell would let him out? The thoughts bombarded my conscious and I stood unconcerned with all my surroundings, but him. He saw me and by the look in his eye, I could tell he wasn't joyous about my presence.
“I remained burrowed in my sheets, staring out the window at the bleak grayness of the sky”.
ReplyDeleteWhy did her son kill his father?
What is her relationship with her son now, if she visits why is he mad
Have an interaction with your son
What I put with you in it for our interaction in Blog 8
ReplyDeleteHerman woke with a start and was shocked to see his breath suspended in the air. He touched his hands to his cheeks and realized his skin felt frozen. As he stepped out of bed, letting his bare feet touch the floor, waves of fiery ice pulsed through his legs and pierced straight through to his heart. As he reached the kitchen, he realized that the window was still open. The evening before, a gentle springtime breeze blew through town, but this morning, Herman saw a fresh coat of snow sparkling in the sunlight.
Once he shut the window and fed Johnny, all Herman wanted was to return under his covers, but he remembered his appointment with Dr. Beal and knew that his daughter would be disappointed if failed to attend. He bundled up in all his coats and taped a note to the door asking Oliver to walk Johnny. The halls were quiet, but the silence outside was deafening. Herman struggled to walk a few blocks when he realized he needed some coffee for strength. Looking around, he saw just one café open, so he headed inside.
Only one customer was sitting in the warm shop, reading from a tattered paperback. After ordering, Herman sat near her and decided to talk.
"Hello," he greeted. "Cold day, isn't it? What brings you out? I'm Herman Marshall, by the way."
The older woman jumped up in her seat, startled by Herman's voice. She had counted on being alone today.
"I'm ClaraJean Mallory, and I came here because I thought I would be the only one," she said pointedly.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Herman apologized as he got up awkwardly from his seat.
"No, I'm sorry," ClaraJean recovered. "Sorry, ever since my husband died, it's so much harder to be in public."
"I understand," Herman sympathized, "my own wife died just a few years ago. I probably wouldn't be out here now if it weren't for my persistent children."
ClaraJean's eyes clouded over at the mention of children, and she quickly changed the subject.
"Do you like to read?" she asked, showing Herman her book.
"Yes, that's one of my favorites. I have to go to the doctor now, but if you're ever interested in discussing books or having some coffee, please let me know."
Herman gave her his address.
"Bye, ClaraJean. It was excellent meeting you!"
It no longer felt so cold outside.