Short Story 4

He lay quietly on the tough (?) brown carpet.  The bed towered over him obstructing his view of the uniquely painted wall.  He was proud of his wall, he would not think of a single soul with a wall like his.  His Mother painted it to look like bricks, muddy red with dirty white almost silver granite lining.  On top of this his Mother had spray painted several differenet words.  Nothing ugly, a few "War Eagles", a "Go Braves", some different band names.  He still did not understand the "War Eagle".  Knowing it was the war cry of his fathers alma mater and comprehending the meaning of the "War Eagle" were two different things.  He did not have the guts to ask his Father the meaning.  It was not that his Father would neccessarily berate him, but he did not want to look stupid.  Better to pretend to know, perhaps infer as well.
 It was not that he did was not that the bed was not comfy, it was.  In fact at that pint in our boys life he did not knowbeds could be anything less than toasty and majestically comfy.  The floor suited him fine though.  He lay in the prone his head rested on his hands, his hands propped up  by his elbows.  He was consumed by his novel and had not a care in the world.  Why would he?
The lights were still on.  Like a deer that sensed danger approaching, Chris jumped up and rested on his butt looking with grim dread in the direction of the stairs.  The look was (?) completely forgotten as he watched and listened.  He could hear the lonesome yawn of the door as it opened and could tell it was his Mother descending the stairs by her lite rapid steps down the stairs.  When the Mother reached the bottom of the stairs she had already mentally braced herself for the fight that was sure to come.  What she was not prepared for was the sick anquished look on her small boys face.  His eyes wide, his hands clenched together, his breathing short and deep.  He would never say what scared him so much.  In fact he always denied he was scared.  He shrugged off all of the careful poking and prodding .  His answer was a variation of "I can't sleep with the lights off".  "Oh Brett needed his big brother to sleep with him for his protection."  "Protection from what,"she once asked.  He had smiled up at her sweetly and not without some false bravado replieing "From everything Mommy."  She was his Mother and when he hurt she hurt.  He thought them all oblivious but she knew he was agonizingly terrified.