Daddy

Daddy

Daddy’s hard calloused hand cracked me across the face and head. Bright white light lit up behind my eyes like stars and my ears rang. My head hurt something awful and I felt the left side of my face puffin’ up. I tasted blood.
“Did you not hear what I just said, you useless piece of crap? I told you to take out that damned trash. Now, get.”
A special report had come on the radio just before I got walloped. That’s what I’d been listening to, instead of Daddy. The radio guy was talkin’ about somebody messin’ with the graves out at Green Hills. That’s the grave yard out at the edge of town. I didn’t get the rest of what he was sayin’ because Daddy snapped the radio off just then.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“I know you are,” Daddy said and just stood there glarin’ and breathin’ heavy.
I grabbed my blue jacket off its hook by the door and shrugged into it as fast as I could without another word. It doesn’t do to rile Daddy when he’s havin’ one of his bad days. He was madder than a two-tailed cat when he came home from job hunting and he was already half way into his second bottle. I knew I’d be walkin’ on egg shells the rest of the night as it was. I took out the full bag and switched it with a new one, nice and neat the way Daddy likes. He grunted and walked into the livin’ room to drink in the dark. We don’t have a TV because Daddy smashed the screen in when we found out who our next president is. He beat me for that the next day, on account I didn’t stop him; like a little ten year old like me could stop a big man like him from doin’ stuff. I knew better than tellin’ him that; though.
It was dark and the cool spring air made my face feel better where I’d been hit. Crickets were singin’ in the grass and the frogs were peepin’ in the back field. I thought I could hear somethin’ else out there in the dark; a quiet shufflin’, like somebody was out there playin’ creep mouse. I thought it was my imagination and ignored it. Bein’ out at night scares me because coyotes come down from the mountains to bother the chickens. I would’ve done the trash earlier when it was still light but I had a lot of homework. I put the trash bag into the rusted oil drum that we use for burnin’ and set it on fire. I stood there watchin’ the fire and thinkin’ about how much Daddy had changed over the past year or so.
It started when Momma got sick and died. He started to drink but didn’t hit me. He just sat there and cried. Then, Daddy lost his job. He said it was because the Commie in the white house passed a law and the mine got shut down. He got real mean after that. I miss how he’d sit me on his knee and sing Big Bad John. It’s his favorite song. He told me once that I’m named after the guy in the song that saved all those miners. I don’t know how long I stood there lookin’ at the fire but the air was cooler and the trash bag was almost ashes. I could swear I heard that sound again, only it was closer. I hurried back to the house. I still had to take a shower and get ready for bed. The next day was a weekend but I still had to go to bed early. Daddy was sleepin’ in his chair when I got in. I kissed him on his forehead and went to take my shower.

Somethin’ woke me out of a dead sleep I don’t know how long after. It was poundin’ on my window, tryin’ to get in. I peeked out the window to see what was there. The moon was on this side of the house and I could see Mr. Goldman from down the road out there. Daddy calls him the useless New York jerk. Well, not jerk but I ain’t supposed to use bad words. Anyway, there he was on the other side of the glass. He was eatin’ somethin’ but I couldn’t tell what it was at first. He saw me watchin’ him and went wild. He pounded on the window with both hands. That’s when I saw what he was holdin’. It was a person’s leg. There was a shoe still on its foot. I got a better look at his face, too. I wish I hadn’t. It was covered in blood. The blood looked black in the moonlight. I must have screamed because the next thing I know Daddy was chargin’ into my room and shaking me like a dog does a rat.
“What’s all the damned racket about?”
I pointed toward the window and said, “Mr. Goldman’s out there and he’s eatin’-“
That’s as far as I got. Daddy pushed me into the bed and went runnin’ down the hall hollerin’, “I’ll get that Ess Oh Bee. I’m gonna tear him a new a-hole.”
I bounced off the bed and ran after him sayin’, “Daddy, don’t go out there. Something ain’t right with him.”
It did me no good. He just slammed out of the house without lookin’ at me. He ran around the house to the back. I could hear him yellin’ and cussin’ the whole way. I watched him, runnin’ from one window to another to keep him in sight. Mr. Goldman was still there when Daddy got to the back. Daddy grabbed hold of him and started beatin’ him up. It didn’t seem to hurt Mr. Goldman any. He dropped the leg he’d been chewin’ on and took hold of Daddy with both hands. His head snapped forward and he bit Daddy on the shoulder. Daddy screamed like I never heard before. That’s when I hid. I grabbed a pillow and blanket and hunkered down in the closet.
It was well past sun up when I was brave enough to come out. It was either than or pee my pants. I can’t imagine the whippin’ Daddy would’ve given me if I’d done that. I looked out the window about ten minutes ago. Mr. Goldman is still out there. So is Daddy. I don’t think he got hurt too bad. He’s up and walkin’ around. There are six others with them. None of them look right. They’re stumblin’ around and moanin’. They saw me lookin’ and are tryin’ to get in the house. I blocked the windows as good as I could and locked the doors. I’m sittin’ at the kitchen table with the radio up loud so I can’t hear them. I ain’t openin’ that door-no matter how bad Daddy beats me later.

I wrote this story in three hours last night. It started with this little boy in my head telling me how his daddy beats him. I know, it sounds funny but a lot of my stories start out this way. It's like I'm dreaming awake. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it.

a reply to: Skid Mark

Well I don't want to say it, but I think the little dudes a goner.

a reply to: Skid Mark

" He was eatin’ somethin’ but I couldn’t tell what it was at first. He saw me watchin’ him and went wild. He pounded on the window with both hands. That’s when I saw what he was holdin’. It was a person’s leg"

I loved that bit, as soon as I read it I had to carry on.
It reminded of similar writing's of Steven King and James Herbert combined.

Thank You.
ismynameimportant

a reply to: DAZ21

I think he is too.

a reply to: Ismynameimportant

I had fun with it. It's a nasty little surprise, like eating a sandwich and finding a cockroach in it.

a reply to: Skid Mark

Love it.

Its grit with a side of gravel, and that's just the way a good yarn ought to be!

a reply to: TrueBrit

Thank you.

a reply to: Skid Mark

I like your writing style.
Are you going to continue or just leave everybody hanging?
I'm dying to know what happens next.

a reply to: Tankgirl

That's it. Sorry. It's all I got. Kind of one of those endings where you have to figure it out on your own. I'm glad that you enjoyed it.

a reply to: Skid Mark

Skid I don't know how I missed this one. Very Good Man!! Loved it!
I Also Love being able to put together My own ending to a well written Tale!

And this one was for sure!!

a reply to: SyxPak

Thank you. I'm glad that you enjoyed it.