Clouds

Grant sat in class, tapping all ten fingers on his desk, and shaking his head. Had it been eleven years since burying his father? Had it been that long? The years had passed, only to prove that time heals nothing. Still, when the wind blew through his voids, it burned. Though, the pain wasn’t as sharp. It had dulled. He could hear the fat and balding teacher talking up front, but he wasn’t listening. Instead, Grant was closing his eyes, and digging for a memory. He was looking for something to tie him to the father he had lost almost exactly eleven years and one month before. But, there were no images waiting within. The only memory he could ever find was the hospital and the ever-lasting Beep. All Grant had was the present moment, and the future that sat not so distant, not anymore. The American Dream was on the horizon: college, marriage, kids. Yet, Grant was stuck in the same place he had been for the last eleven years: empty. He was in twelfth grade now. It was September 16th of 2011, a Friday. As he sat at his desk, Grant pondered the meaning of a future. What would come in a world with a temporary war now entering into its tenth year, a failing economy, and talk of the end of the world just around the corner? Did he have a future, or was it a futile thought to begin with? The minutes on the clock ticked by; the moronic teacher up front spoke of irrelevant things; life was a dead end. Just like that stupid town with the cemetery by the lake, and thirty three hundred some odd souls. Grant wanted to be able to sit at his desk, smile, and say the future holds bright things! But, he couldn’t. He had no aspirations. Every day was just another day to stay alive. But, this wasn’t living. This was just surviving, in a shell of a human who had never found the happiness that left when his dad died. After another four hours of mindless teaching from different teachers, school ended for the week. Grant left the high school with his books in his bag, his car keys in his hand, and his mind trapped in the Mundane. It would be like every other day in this stupid town, and he knew it. He knew he would get in his forest green Sable, drive home, do whatever homework he had, and then live with a mind that desperately wanted a reason to continue. He had thought about ending his life many times. But, something always stopped him: fear. Though, it wasn’t of death. It was of the possibility of something more. Ten years before, Grant had come to a place where he accepted his father’s death. And for the shortest of time, it made him feel okay. It didn’t last. It proved to be just as brief as a sweat after a nightmare. Everything was changing around him. His mother was now dating; his little sister was now ten and only growing; his best friend Bobby Jackson was now just a son of a father with terminal cancer. He had been a class clown. He had been a joyous person. Now, he was just pieces of the friend Grant knew. Grant sat in his idling Sable, waiting for the red light to turn green. He tapped the bottom of the steering wheel, situated his rearview and side mirrors, and then hummed impatiently. Another ten seconds passed, and the light turned green. He drove home. After shutting off his car, Grant stared at his steering wheel for a moment, and then walked inside. He thought he knew what he would find when entering, but it wasn’t what he had expected. Grant opened the front door. Standing tall, ensconced in shadow, was his father. A wide grin sat on his face, and his eyes shone like dark diamonds. “Hello Grant.” he opened his arms wide. “Dad?” Grant asked while stepping forward, seeing only an empty home lit by candles. “Why did you stop believing?” his father started walking forward. “I told you to never stop believing.” “I never did believe dad. It’s a stupid thing to believe.” “Why is it stupid?” his steps became faster. “God isn’t real!” screamed Grant. “What about the devil?” his father asked, now guttural. “What?” “I said what about the devil?” Grant looked left and right slowly. The atmosphere had changed; the house was empty; his father had now been absorbed into the shadows. “Dad?!” Grant yelled. “Are you there?” “Yes.” “Why aren’t you showing yourself?” “I’m a monster.” “No you’re not.” “Ye-yes,” he trembled. “I am.” “I miss you dad.” Grant was near tears. “It isn’t the same without you, it never will be.” “Run kiddo.” his father whimpered, growling pervasively. “Wa-what?” “Run.” “Why?” “I'm going to eat you.” Suddenly the door swung shut, and all but one candle went out. Grant blinked twice, breathed deep, and tried to calm a hectic heart. A deep growl sat within the shadowed house, bouncing from wall to wall. “Da-dad?” whispered Grant as he fell to his knees. “Save me.” “I can’t.” he answered. “Not anymore...” HONK! Grant’s face was pressing against his steering wheel. Sweat dripped down his face; his eyes were wet with tears. Grant sat and stared. He was a wrecked, broken young man, abandoned by the God he had one time believed in. He dug deep down only to find that he was empty. He knew that he couldn’t stay in this sad life anymore. Something had to happen soon. Happiness had to find him. Or Grant knew that soon he would be just like his father: dead and buried. “Why do you still haunt me?” Grant sniffled. “What do you want?” His father didn’t appear next to him, smile, and say that everything is going to be alright. His answer was a quiet voice calling him to the cemetery. He couldn’t avoid it anymore. It was slipping out in dreams. It was threatening his very existence.