Literature
Our Father
The bank people leave a stack of papers for our review. We don't understand a word.
"Read it out loud," Father says.
We read it out loud. We still don't understand it, but we hear, from beneath the house, a creaking, and then, as we read the last words, the wail of something starved and lonely. We drop the papers. The wailing stops.
Father decides the youngest one must go down to see what it is. She pales when she hears this, her bright red hair frizzing around her face. "I- I don't-" she stammers. Father points at the back door, and she leaves, her body stiff and her steps weighted.