Signs of the Night

Under the Cover of Night

As the sun disappeared behind the horizon the house lights shot on, not letting the darkness encompass the block for a single moment.  The quiet chatter of the cicadas and crickets grew louder as the night awoke them. The steps of a boy were hidden by the murmurs coming from stereos where families gathered together enjoying each others company. The boy wandered to a house at the end of the block, faintly illuminated by the light gleaming off the other homes. The peace of the block would not linger much longer.

The sole noise emitted from the home was the metallic hum of music erupting from the radio sitting on the kitchen counter. The monotony of the evening was broken with the squealing of the back door as it was brought to open, alerting the house's recluse resident of a presence in the kitchen. He blundered to the door, bellowing out "I swear- I swear  if you're trying to sell me on some other goddamn crap you've gone too damn far this time, coming into a man's house uninvited, what kind of person does that?"

    As the man stumbled into the kitchen the boy flicked on the lights and revealed himself, "Not trying to sell you on anything but, something I shouldn't have to prove to you," The boy's breaths became heavier as  he made eye contact with the man, who paled as he took his time crafting up a response.

    The man stepped closer to the boy, daring him to rethink his choice in coming to his house, "I don't know who you think I am" his voice was slurred and heavy with the scent of  that evening's bottle "but I am not who you are looking for, I've only ever let people down, nobody has anything to prove to me and me nothing to em."

    The boy glared anger fomenting from the words of the resident. With his voice drowning in conviction and pain he began, "You don't remember your own son? Your own fucking son? Was I that much of a burden on your 'oh so perfect life?'" He hit the counter causing the radio to topple over, " You had to run off and completely pretermit yourself of us? Real nice. Real fuckin nice"

    " Wait, wait wait, no," The man's world was crashing, and it was sobering. "Trey?" he murmured tenderly, his eyes full of what could be mistaken to be sorrow.

Recalling his stance he continued, "I am so sorry, I must seem awful. Believe me, Trey believe me, I never wanted to leave, I never..." the father stammered, "I never wanted to let you go, I wanted to be there for you, I truly wanted to, god if I could change something--"

    The boy's scream cut off the father's murmurs, " If you wanted to be there, nothing was stopping you! You said you were going to be back, YOU LIED! It's been ten years, ten years you jackass. I can't, I really can't deal with you."

     At that moment radio decided to blare the song that it was playing, filling the room with emotion and noise, as the tempo fell,  the radio short circuited and burnt out with a crisp pop from the socket, leaving the kitchen smelling metallic and heavy.

    The man took this silence as his chance to speak up, " Don't make me a liar Trey, because I swear to god when I said it, I thought it was true," He cried out, " I've always loved you, and I hope one day you will see that and maybe take the time to forgive ."

"Make me love myself, maybe then I can love you. I grew up feeling alone, feeling unwanted, do you know how that feels? To feel inadequate before speaking a word," The boy bellowed, his eyes bloodshot with a terrifying determination. "The letters you left telling me it was my fault, you devastated my mother, you left her broken and penniless"

"Trey I'm sorry about everything they don't know if you feel this counts, but I'm going to try my best, I have had pictures of you up on my wall since I've been gone to remind myself of what a monster--"

The speech was cut short by a swift motion of the boy, and in that very moment there was pain and then there was near perfect silence. The only sound that stirred was the man's breaths, shallow and heavy. His breathes that only grew more desperate like he was croaking for a chance of making it out of that night alive. The eyes of the man gradually began to lose the little emotion they had to begin with, and he attempted to make out his last words. His last words that will be slowly laid upon the ears of the boy he thought he loved, the boy who killed him. As the man began his final croak, the boy stepped on his throat, shutting him up before he could try to redeem himself.