Coming Back

Strange Visitors

Coming Back

My eyes searched for them, some sign. “They’re coming back. I just know it.”

“But they just left, I don’t think they’ll be back any time soon. The dust hasn’t settled yet.” Ma looked down the road. A tiny bit of dust lingered in the still afternoon.

“Rubbish, good riddance is what I say. Don’t care none if they never come back.” Dad spit in the road, turned back to the house as Ma followed.

Dog raised its leg on Dad’s spit then trotted to the house behind Dad and Ma.

I was left alone. So I sat down in the dirt to wait. 

Come late afternoon I finally went into the house. Dad and Ma were sittin’ at the table, both sippin’ their brews.

“Told ‘ya they wouldn’t come back, now didn’t I. I’ve yet to be wrong ‘bout ‘em.” Ma stated.

“Them’s rubbish, pure and simple, I’ve told you that!” Dad pushed his fist at me.

“They’re coming back. I just know it.” I argued my point again.

“Just hush about them there folk. Nuthin’ good never come from ‘em. Nuthin’.”
Ma stomped outside, back door flappin’ behind her.

Dad huffed, puffed, stood up, threw his glass against the wall. Shattered shards joined a pile on the floor. “Piss’in’ the mist,” as off he went to join Ma.

May as well fix something to eat, I thought. It was getting dark, the parents were outside yellin’ at each other agin’. As I gathered a mess of cold taters ’n corn from the icebox, they came. Just suddenly sittin’ at the table, two misty figures dressed in green robes.

“I knew you’d be back, Just knew it.” The taters ’n corn sat on my plate, untouched.

“Come with us this time.”

“Let me get my hat.”

W/C 299