The ‘morning after’ progressed from warm to sweltering and with each minute, energy drained from my recovering limbs that were lumps jelly. I plodded through the simple tasks of packing and eating breakfast.
Friedrich swore he witnessed Zwar almost choking. He disguised his discomfort with a coughing fit and a lame excuse. ‘I hate the smell of burnt flesh.’
‘You should get used to it,’ Boris replied.
I clutched my stomach. ‘Dad, I’m hungry.’
‘Later,’ he promised.
However, later produced no food. My famished state evolved into near starvation.
‘Dad!’ I moaned. ‘I’m hungry!’
‘Not just yet.’ Dad hurried up the main road.
Shuffling behind him, I muttered, ‘If you won’t, I’ll get it myself.’
‘Might just be in time for cake,’ Daisy announced as their Toyota van chugged up the road leading to the church. ‘You hungry for cake, Arthur?’
‘Sure am,’ Arthur replied. He was so famished he could’ve eaten the dead horse on the side of the road just past The Range. But cake would have to do for now.
“Grandma, can I excuse the table?” I asked.
Grandma chuckled. “You mean, be excused from the table, dear.”
I nodded and then pushed my chair from the old wooden table.
“Yes, you may, but don’t go too far,” Grandma said. “Go only to the end of the road and then you must turn back.”
“I will.”
The wind worked its gusty fingers under the stiff plastic and lifted it into the air. I caught the sheet and held it down. Cold blasts froze my fingers. The wind flapped the end bits making my toes turn to ice.
Read more "Disrupt Sleep"Joseph, Amie and Friedrich stared at the large stone in front of them. The stone glittered as if flecked with fine grains of gold.
‘Any idea what kills cockroaches?’ Amie muttered.
