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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2186085
Rated: E · Fiction · Family · #2186085
Little girl walks in on Uncle Curio's discussion
Whenever Uncle Curio visited us, Father and he would sit for hours in the small room at the end of the house. I and mom were never allowed there.

That day was no different. Father and Curio were in the last room, mom was doing the dishes. Curiosity taking over, I tiptoed down the corridor that led to that room. Nearing the door, I heard crashing noises. I pressed my hand against the door knob, and opened the door.

I saw Father stand against a wall, his eyes red. I had never seen Father so angry. Curio lay motionless on the floor, propped against the opposite wall, eyes fixed on Father. I could see blood streaming down the side of Curio’s head. Bank notes were strewn over the floor like confetti. The only piece of furniture, a small low table lying betwen the two men, had a black gun kept on it.

Both men turned to look at me. Father thunders, “You aren’t supposed to be here”. His voice reverberates in the room, down the corridor and I heard Mother’s hastening footsteps approaching.

Mom sits me at the dining table with a bowl of icecream. Later, both men joined us for a quiet lunch. They conversed in silent stares.

In the evening just before Curio got into his car to leave, he hugged me and gave a box of chocolates. The bloody mark was still visible on the side of his face. I watched as his car disappeared into the distance.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2186085