Saturday, February 13, 2010

Garage Days

“Aren’t you coming, Daddy?” Her voice reached him in the garage, more insistent this time around. Her sing-song refrain drifted down the breezeway; it filled his heart with love and his eyes with tears and, in an attempt to deceive himself that she was not calling to him, he reached for the Bakelite radio on the shelf she had given him for his birthday and turned the volume higher, an act which had been successful many times in the past.

She suddenly appeared in the doorway; her face a mirror image of the one he dwelt upon following the car accident that had taken her life more than fifteen years ago. He broke down and shed bitter tears; with his whole heart and soul he sobbed for the mistakes he had made until, finally, he took down the shotgun he kept on cast iron brackets on an otherwise blank wall. Yes dear, he thought, Daddy’s coming.

6 comments:

Erin Cole said...

Your works are so eloquently written with gut punches at the end. Creepy and chilling-so glad I don't have a garage!

David Barber said...

I'm getting de-ja-vu here...I'm sure I left a comment earlier. Great, spooky piece, Paul. You do flash superbly. In a writing sense, of course. :-)

Tess said...

This is one of my all time favorite things of yours ... stunning!

Michael Solender said...

well there ya have it! Shotguns can be the be-all, end-all. Very smooth, this.

David Masters said...

Brilliantly written - a beautiful example of "show, don't tell". Poignant and sad.

CJT said...

I love this piece... each time I read it, like the new look of the site... kinda different.