Black soul rose by John Jones... - HTML preview

Sam

119

Despite his so-called ‘father’ not being the most popular person in the world. Or even in the household, there was a lot of fuss over his death, even though it had been ruled a suicide by the coroner. People knocking to offer their sympathies, even if they never knew him that well.

Sam was sick of it, but there was nothing he could do. His mother had a lock put on the front room. She could never venture in there again, and neither would Sam.

However, despite his passing, Sam had noticed a spring in her step. She had even mentioned taking a break, something that would have been difficult with him still around. I mean, how can we afford to go on holiday when I’ve got horses to place bets on?

His tool-bag had been placed out in the back-yard. Of no use to anyone now.

Except for the box-cutter used to open his father’s throat. Even though it was found clutched in his hand, it was returned after a while unwashed. Sam had put it in his coat pocket.

He thought of the repercussions of not succeeding tonight. It would be back to the clubhouse to dig up the seeds, and from there, he had no idea.

Nearer the time he had stuffed himself with more food than usual, shrugged on his coat and shoes and entered the back room where his mother was watching television. For some reason she liked watching television in the dark. She was sat there lit up as if under a multi-coloured spotlight.

“I’m going out to me mates. We’ve got homework to do”. Tabitha looked at him with curiosity.

“Homework at a friends. Not computer games.”

“Nope, we’re learning all about the fossil record. In particular the carboniferous period. Did you know..?”

“Okay okay, don’t be late,” He smiled, backed out of the room, closing the door.

Before he left, he checked on the box-cutter in his pocket. Not blunt. Still viscous.

Sliding it back, he left the house.