to tide over my lovely followers, please enjoy this short story! I continue to work on other projects, but the 50 Unexplainable Stories project I started with my friend Jill is one of the most consistent. and I happen to be rather fond of this little tale. 🙂
Hoover Hawg of Eden, by August Williams
The house wasn’t the same anymore. Now the wind rattled impolitely at the windows, begging to let the dust in, a hollow replacement for the baby’s cries of hunger. Artie sat on the edge of his cot and listened to the plaintive howl, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the peeling wallpaper. He hugged his knees to his chest and tried to stop trembling.
In the other room, his mama stammered her plea: Arthur senior had to bring something home, anything to silence the spasms of her stomach. Artie bit his lip and closed his eyes, his mama’s soft and wrinkled face rising into his mind. She bore her Native American heritage proudly, though she rarely spoke of it. He heard her whisper, the desert will be kind enough to take me—it is full of my ancestors.
Artie dashed the tears from his face with a grimy sleeve and pushed himself off the cot. He ran past his parents, huddled over the dinner table, their hands entwined. He stopped long enough to grab his noose stick from against the side of the house and fled into the dust…
(for the rest, click the link!)