One last look. My eyes lingered on the house that I had once called home. But never again. This time, they had just went too far.
I knew I had broken curfew. I knew that it had been three nights in a row. But they didn’t even bother to ask me why. Sometimes there are more important things happening than a kid’s ability – or inability- to read a watch at midnight.
They thought I was impulsive. They thought that my friends were hooligans. They thought that I would turn out just like my father. I knew what my father was… and I was nothing like him! But they could not see passed that haunting, never-wanting-to-back-down-look that Ma said that I had in my eyes. Just like your father. I had heard it thousands of times. If you’re going to judge a man, judge his actions. Judge his heart. Don’t judge his eye-color!
Whistling for my dog, Patches, we rode off around the corner and up over the hill.
Little did I know that I would be back- by my own accord- in a mere three months? My birth father was not finished with our family just yet.
Written for Three Word Wednesdays: Number 426: Requirements: Using the three prompt words, create a story.
Hauntingly, adjective: poignant and evocative; difficult to ignore or forget.
Impulse, noun: a sudden strong and unreflective urge or desire to act; the tendency to act impulsively; a driving or motivating force; an impetus; a pulse of electrical energy; a brief current.
Linger, verb: stay in a place longer than necessary, typically because of a reluctance to leave; (linger over) spend a long time over (something); be slow to disappear or die.