Secrets of the Night
Brenna summoned all of her courage and stepped onto the dirt-covered floor. She felt the dust motes dance spirals around her ankles. It might have been her imagination, but she thought she heard a distant ring and she extended that to be a chiming change in her destiny. Dismissing her thoughts as fanciful, she wandered over to where Jason stood before the altar.
"His eyes," Jason motioned with a finger stopping short of touching the 3x5. "He has your eyes."
Brenna agreed, but she was less stuck on that fact. Her mind had accepted long ago that the man she had been told was her father was indeed NOT her biological father. He wasn't even a good daddy except that he provided for her education at a boarding school after her grandmother's death. He had been decent enough for that she supposed. Still, he had never coddled her, never wrapped an arm around her shoulder as he did with his son Irving. Irving was a dreadfully boring boy with his eyes and hair and chin.
"Why does she have an altar to this man?" Jason asked reaching out to touch a dried flower.
"Don't touch anything," Brenna snapped losing patience with him.
Jason looked at her startled, "You aren't superstitious."
"You know how my mother died when I was young?" Brenna asked looking around at the objects she had never seen before- never imagined before.
Jason nodded his eyes transfixed on the man in the picture. "Sure, you mentioned it."
"I never saw her body." Brenna felt a chill on the air, and wrapped her arms around her slender frame. "Let's go back upstairs."
Jason didn't respond to her request. He seemed rooted to the spot. His finger lingered over the photograph a mere moment away from touching the dust-covered surface. Brenna grabbed his arm and pulled forcibly. "Let's go."
Jason shook his head and followed her up the stairs.
"His eyes," Jason motioned with a finger stopping short of touching the 3x5. "He has your eyes."
Brenna agreed, but she was less stuck on that fact. Her mind had accepted long ago that the man she had been told was her father was indeed NOT her biological father. He wasn't even a good daddy except that he provided for her education at a boarding school after her grandmother's death. He had been decent enough for that she supposed. Still, he had never coddled her, never wrapped an arm around her shoulder as he did with his son Irving. Irving was a dreadfully boring boy with his eyes and hair and chin.
"Why does she have an altar to this man?" Jason asked reaching out to touch a dried flower.
"Don't touch anything," Brenna snapped losing patience with him.
Jason looked at her startled, "You aren't superstitious."
"You know how my mother died when I was young?" Brenna asked looking around at the objects she had never seen before- never imagined before.
Jason nodded his eyes transfixed on the man in the picture. "Sure, you mentioned it."
"I never saw her body." Brenna felt a chill on the air, and wrapped her arms around her slender frame. "Let's go back upstairs."
Jason didn't respond to her request. He seemed rooted to the spot. His finger lingered over the photograph a mere moment away from touching the dust-covered surface. Brenna grabbed his arm and pulled forcibly. "Let's go."
Jason shook his head and followed her up the stairs.