Don't Count The Dead Wind

Chapter 2

According to his father life should consist of going to church every Sunday and working hard every other day and the boy could agree more. God loves a working man. His dad was a simple man with simple thoughts and he didn't much talk and when he did you'd better listen because his father was liable to smack you in the head if he caught you ignoring him.

The boy's family didn't own a TV and the father didn't much mind they but the mother always wanted one because she had heard great things about it on the radio and she wanted to be a part of the future but she would never speak against the father.

They ate dinner which the mother had bought at a local market and it was the biggest meal the boy had in a while. The father didn't make much money and the money he did make went to the church or to pay bills which they didn't have very much of because they didn't have enough money to splurge.

"So," his mother said across the table.  "How is the food?"

"Oh it's the best dear." The father replied and then he turned to the boy. "Tell your mama that she did a good job making you a goddamn meal."

"It's pretty good."

They continued to talk until they had all finished eating and by this point the boy was so tired that he nearly feel asleep at the table but he gathered himself and made his way to his bedroom but not before he told his parents good night.

He dreamed that he was standing on the edge of an abyss that was filling with flames and he could feel the heat getting closer and closer until finally he saw his hands become fire. His entire body became a mass of liquid and it dripped down the side of the chasm.

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He woke in the dark to find that he had no sight and found that he was sweating with fear. He had made calls of despair in his sleep because his mother had rushed in and checked to make sure he read okay.

"Yeah mama," he said " I'm alright. Just had me a bad dream is all. I ain't gonna die."

(Author's Note: establishing characters!  Woot!)