He sat in a corner, stroking the boy’s hair feverishly, and singing softly under his breath as tears
dripped from his cheeks to the boys head.
“Are you going to Scarborough Fair?” He sang quietly, his voice cracked and worn, his eyes, distant as
they gazed at the dying embers of a fire.
“Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,”
He took the metal poker from beside him and jabbed at the embers. A horrible hissing sound emanated from
the metal stick when it reached the dying flames. They flickered and cast a bizarre light on the room that the man didn’t particularly care for.
“Remember me to one who lives there,”
He stroked the boy’s radiant black hair, gleaming in the last minutes of the fires life. He bent close to
whisper the next line in his ear. He licked his lips and laughed.
“She was once a true love of mine,”
His eyes wandered to the corner of the room, where she now slouched, her face tear stained. About five
minutes ago everyone in the town would have agreed that she was possibly the most beautiful thing they’d ever seen.
“Now look,” He thought madly. “Now look!” He yelled into the night. An owl hooted outside and it was
as if nothing had happened. Nothing bad here just a normal family sitting in their normal living room.
“The normal living room from hell,” he laughed giddily. The fire extinguished itself and he screamed
loudly. He sat, his stroking of the boys hair momentarily off as the darkness flooded his eyes. He soon resumed his panicky stroking and his odd murmurings. His vision adjusted and allowed him to
gaze into the shadows of his hellish living room.
“It’s amazing really,” he mumbled, “that all we need do is wait and even the shadows in the dark vanish
from our sight.”
He stood and the boy fell from his lap, hitting the ground with a thump, like dropping a bag of flour on a
stone floor. He looked down at his pants, covered in blood now. He took a squelching step towards the glowing embers and smiled, laughing weakly.
“It’s funny if you look at it the right way,” he thought to himself. Closer to the fire now, he bent down,
his knees landing on the wet floor, and picked up the metal poker. Turning, he raised the poker so he could see it. A sticky liquid dripped onto his hands and he giggled. Then he walked to the boy,
prodding him with the poker so that he turned over onto his back. The man stifled a hysterical laugh with his hand and fell back onto his butt, laughing in the opposite corner of the room, looking
at them, so happy together.
“A family,” he wheezed out through his insane laughter.
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