I met him after my mother died. Maybe it would be more truthful to say my mother died just before he walked into our house. He was big, very big. The whole town had said he was coming. Everyone had put candles in their windows and no one was out in the streets that night.
"He'll be here soon."
My mother looked at me from where she lay. I wiped away the heat from her forehead, brushed back her hair and smiled at her. "You just need to hold on a little bit longer....he's coming"
She closed her eyes and moaned. Candles flickered around the room, throwing shadows against the brown walls. Knowing she wouldn't last much longer, I got up and went to the window to look for him. "Please come please..." My mother screamed. Her voice, black, thick and heavy fell to the floor, split and slithered in different directions. A piece slid under the door and disappeared into the night. Then there was silence. I didn't move. I didn't go to her. I stood and waited but I already knew. The darkness slid to where I stood by the window, crept up to my feet and slowly climbed up, heavy, sticky and leaden. It rolled up my legs, wrapped around my thighs, tightening between my legs, spreading out across my stomach. The wind picked up outside, some candles went out and I felt my chest tighten. The darkness dove into me, grabbed my heart and crushed it. My father's voice, now gone some 8 years, his absence which I had hidden deep within the walls of my heart, oozed out. I couldn't breath. Taking one last look over the hill I closed my eyes and fell to the floor.
...
He came up over the hill, his coat long down to his heels. From where he stood he looked down at the flickering lights of the small town below. He counted. Not the houses but the sounds. Then he heard what he had come for. Leaning down, he cupped his hand then lifted it to his hear and finally put it into his pocket before beginning his descent.
"He'll be here soon."
My mother looked at me from where she lay. I wiped away the heat from her forehead, brushed back her hair and smiled at her. "You just need to hold on a little bit longer....he's coming"
She closed her eyes and moaned. Candles flickered around the room, throwing shadows against the brown walls. Knowing she wouldn't last much longer, I got up and went to the window to look for him. "Please come please..." My mother screamed. Her voice, black, thick and heavy fell to the floor, split and slithered in different directions. A piece slid under the door and disappeared into the night. Then there was silence. I didn't move. I didn't go to her. I stood and waited but I already knew. The darkness slid to where I stood by the window, crept up to my feet and slowly climbed up, heavy, sticky and leaden. It rolled up my legs, wrapped around my thighs, tightening between my legs, spreading out across my stomach. The wind picked up outside, some candles went out and I felt my chest tighten. The darkness dove into me, grabbed my heart and crushed it. My father's voice, now gone some 8 years, his absence which I had hidden deep within the walls of my heart, oozed out. I couldn't breath. Taking one last look over the hill I closed my eyes and fell to the floor.
...
He came up over the hill, his coat long down to his heels. From where he stood he looked down at the flickering lights of the small town below. He counted. Not the houses but the sounds. Then he heard what he had come for. Leaning down, he cupped his hand then lifted it to his hear and finally put it into his pocket before beginning his descent.
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