Curses and Confessions: The Family Burden

My voice trembled, but I forced myself to stand my ground. I turned and bolted for the house, heart pounding so loud I thought he’d hear it.

I slammed the door behind me, locking it tight. My hands shook as I pressed my back against the wood, trying to catch my breath.

I pressed myself against the window, peeking out. The man glared at our house like he had a grudge.

His eyes glowed in the dark, following every movement. I ducked down, hoping he couldn’t see me, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

He kept kicking the threshold. “Thud, thud, thud.” The sound was harsh and cold.

Each kick sent a jolt through the floorboards, echoing in my bones. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying he’d give up.

I don’t know how long he kept at it, but eventually, he left.

The night grew quiet again, but the silence felt sharp, like something was waiting just outside the window.

I stayed hidden, too scared to move.

I curled up in the corner of the den, knees to my chest, listening for any sign he might come back. The shadows seemed to stretch and twist across the walls.

Late at night, I heard footsteps outside the yard. I looked out and saw Grandpa and Grandma had come back.

Relief flooded through me. I pressed my face to the glass, watching their familiar shapes move through the darkness.

I hurried off the couch and opened the den door.

The hinges squeaked, and the warm air from the kitchen spilled into the hallway. I ran to meet them, feet barely touching the floor.

“Grandpa, Grandma, why are you back so late?”

My voice was shaky, but I tried to hide it. I clung to Grandma’s coat, feeling the cold air clinging to her.

Grandpa was covered in red clay, even in his hair, like he’d just crawled out of the ground.

His face was pale, streaked with mud. There was a cut on his forehead, and his hands shook as he brushed dirt from his jacket.

He said, “I slipped coming down the mountain and blacked out. If your grandma hadn’t come looking, I wouldn’t have made it back.”

His words were heavy, and I could see the fear lingering in his eyes. Grandma squeezed his arm, her lips pressed tight.

Grandma frowned. “Alright, come in quick. In the future, don’t go tempting fate so much, or it’ll catch up to you. I’ll bring in the food from the kitchen.”

She gave Grandpa a stern look, then hurried to the kitchen, her footsteps quick and anxious.

Grandpa nodded and hunched inside.

He moved slowly, limping a little. I helped him to his favorite chair, and he let out a long, shaky breath.

Soon, Grandma brought in the chicken.

The smell filled the room, warm and comforting. She set the pot on the table, ladling out steaming broth for all of us.

She touched my face. “Eli, why are you so pale? Something happened, didn’t it?”

Her hand was cool and gentle. She looked me in the eyes, worry etched deep in her face.

I said, “Just now, a man with a crooked face came looking for Grandpa to drive. I told him to come in and wait, but he couldn’t even cross our threshold.”

I shivered, remembering the way he’d glared at the house. My voice cracked, and I looked down at my hands.

Grandpa’s face changed instantly. He grabbed my shoulders. “What did he look like? Were his eyes big or small?”

His grip was tight, almost desperate. I’d never seen him so rattled—his voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide with fear.

“Big eyes,” I replied.

My grandparents exchanged a fearful glance.

They stared at each other, silent, as if sharing a secret they didn’t want me to know. Grandma’s hand trembled as she set her spoon down.

Grandma said anxiously, “Henry, wasn’t it that guy, Joe Chandler? He didn’t listen to you—insisted on driving the mountain road himself, and even tried it at night in the storm.”

She wrung her hands, voice rising. “You warned him, Henry. You told him not to go.”

Grandpa frowned, still gripping my shoulders. “What else did he say to you?”

He searched my face, as if looking for some clue he’d missed.

I answered, “He said you promised to help him drive tonight, but you weren’t home.”

I watched Grandpa’s face go pale, his jaw set tight.

Grandma stomped her foot. She pointed at Grandpa. “I told you not to meddle in other people’s business! Now look, you’ve brought trouble to our door! When Tom Harlan comes back, you’d better stop helping people drive.”