I woke up from my sleep and realised from the sunlight it was morning, slowly I got up from my old worn bed and headed out of my room, with whom I share one of my older brothers and still snored quietly above my bed. I walked sleepily down the corridor and went to the kitchen.
My mother had her back to me and was pan-frying something for breakfast. She was slim, wearing a simple dress in sky blue colour and an apron tied around her hip. From the dress, I noticed it had not been washed for days due to the dust giving the blue a greyish tone and sweat spots. Her shoulder long curly red hair was loose, and she had a pale complexion. "Good morning." She spoke softly without turning to me. Her voice sounded very warm and lovingly to my ears.566Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc4acRWlFi2
I smiled. "Morning, Mom."
The kitchen was not significant, along the walls were the cupboards, the fridge, the oven and the cooktop in well-used state and very dusty that it gave a low and wild look. In the centre of the kitchen stood a small rectangular shaped wooden table with chairs. There sat Dad reading newspaper and sipping his cup of strong black coffee. I did not see his face because of the enormous newspaper, and I was small, but he gave short. "Morning, son."
I went to the table, sat down; Mom came up and served me a plate of fried eggs and bacon while I poured myself a glass of orange juice.
"There you go, Jack," smiled my mother to me. She had rosy cheeks and few freckles around her nose, and her ice-blue eyes were as warming as her voice. "William! Come on down! Breakfast is ready!" She called down the corridor.
I barely heard groaning from my brothers while I ate.
"William, get up now! Or you'll be late for school!"
Suddenly I heard a thud. It must be William who fell off the bed as per usual. Soon he came into the kitchen rubbing at times at his knees and bottom.
Because of rubbing his knees and bottom, I started laughing.
"Jack, knock it off. It's too early." He moaned, annoyed and tired as he sat at the table.
I could not stop laughing until he sat at the opposite side of me. Suddenly I felt a painful kick in the shin. I cried, half in laughter due to surprise and half in pain.
"Boys, stop it." Gave Dad monotone from behind the newspaper.
William and I finished our breakfast, grabbed our school leather bags and walked for a good mile to school; across a part of a flat, dusty landscape with few bushes. In school, I did my best, always getting A or B mark and done with little effort.
My parents made it clear that they can barely afford it and that I am lucky. I went to fourth grade while William went to high school mostly after school we would walk together home due to the school's schedule, not every day but mostly.
Then one fine afternoon as I got out earlier than William; I walked ahead home. As I arrived, I saw my other older brother Henry wearing greased blue washed jeans alike working-trousers of some garage he is working.
He gave me a short "Hi." And continued to discuss with my Mom about something. As I walked to my room, I noticed it was about money and Dad.
Suddenly a loud row came from the corridor from the voice I noticed it was Dad, Mom and Henry. Soon following, I heard a door slam. Out the window, I saw Henry pacing angered around the house and muttering under his breath. Knowing this is none of my business, I started on doing my homework.
Later on, William came. In the corridor, I hear Dad calling me. I went to the corridor; he was not there. Then I walked on to the kitchen to see if he was there and he was. Sitting in the same chair, only all dirty and smelly including holding a glass bottle of some spirit, maybe whiskey. He had very short cut bronze, straight hair and a thin beard were growing around the jaw and mouth. His skin looked greasy and tanned from the sun. "Dear Jack, could you go an' help Mom? She needs some help with Henry."
"Where is Henry?" I asked.
"Down the corridor. He's fallen to bits, you see." He answered calmly, but from his smell, I knew it was the booze that made him talk so. Knowing I have not seen him there, but having another look does not hurt. So I walked down the corridor and close by the entrance door I found a jute sack lying there. Mom was already pulling it out the door. As I came up closer, I noticed at one temple of Mom's forehead was bruised badly.
"What happened?" I asked her worriedly.
"It's nothing. It's just me being foolish." She responded lightly out of breath while pulling the sack out. Somehow from her tone and choice of words gave me the impression that it was Dad's doing.
I did not say a word and bent down to help.
"No! Don't touch it, Jack!" She called on edge.
Suddenly I noticed from the sack came a horrible gushing sound as Mom pulled and saw some red spots. Immediately I stepped back in fear. Gasping in awe and barely realising not what but who was in the sack—frozen stiff on the spot. Not able to scream or do anything.
Many days later, I came home from school alone. Usually, on that day, William and I would be walking home together, but he would not show up, so I went ahead. I as entered the old wooden, dusty and battered house I heard from the kitchen Dad talking to someone. My curiosity rose and sneaked as quiet I could close to the kitchen. Fear began to grow under my chest, knowing what he had done to Henry and can do it easily on me. From a brief peek, I noticed he was talking to himself or otherwise the empty bottle of booze and Mom was nowhere to be seen.
Although a brief peek, Dad noticed me and called me. "Jack, come here."
I took a deep breath and entered the kitchen.
"Come here." He demanded and waved a hand. As I came closer, he patted my shoulder and smiled warmly. "Jack, you were always my favourite son and still are. Such a good, kind and smart boy." His warming words gave me the courage to ask.
"Dad, why aren't you working?"
"Why I'm not working? I got a good time off. How was school today?" He asked warmly and stroked my head.
I told him shortly how my day was. "William didn't come home with me. Where is he?" I asked curiously.
"Oh, he got off early in school and is hanging around in the living room now," Dad answered merrily. "Such a good boy." He smiled while I slowly stepped back.
I was still afraid of him, but less than before. I gave a forced smile to him and walked down the corridor towards the living-room. As I entered, I was frozen in awe of what I saw. In the middle of the room from the ceiling I saw a rope and on the other end hung a white cloth-covered body. The cloth was snow white without the rope; it would have looked like a ghost. Lest not to see the hung body but I still saw the bare feet. Due to the size, I recognised it was my brother William. I gave a brief gasp, and tears began to well in my eyes.
Behind me, I heard from the kitchen, Dad calling my Mom. Soon Mom was beside me; tears were streaming down her pale cheeks. "We should clean this up." She sniffed softly and walked ahead. I wanted to help her but not this! I can not even come near the dead body of my brother! I just can not! Although dead, I could not touch him. I began to shake my head.
"Don't worry, you don't have to touch the body, but please help me bring him down." She voice sounded shattered and sorrowful. "Please help me." She repeated as she already held up the body so that I can easily untie the rope from the ceiling.
I quickly grabbed a chair from one corner of the room and untied the rope.
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