Sweet Dreams

The morning sun came out of the gray, winter clouds, descending faint light to the world beneath it.  Rays from above became imprisoned in icicles, which hung from tree branches and frosty rooftops.  Snow whitened the gravel roads, homes, barns, and worn shotgun houses in the small sleepy town of Havensburg. 

At the edge of town where the sun dies at dusk, families exist neglected from warmth, money, food, and clothing.  At this Western side is a hollow that tunnels out the gray, winter sky.   In this hollow and forest are hibernating woodland creatures, some of which are dangerous if they are disturbed. 

There are two houses away from this three-mile hollow.  One house belongs to an elderly couple that minds their own business.  Then there is the domestic dysfunctional McKenzie family who lives two minutes away.

While the sun continued to live and grow in the East, a rooster strutted out of its snow-covered shack, cocked its head to the sky then gave birth to its morning call.  This call awakened the elderly couple and the McKenzie family, for both households the day welcomed worry, labor, and stress.

In the McKenzie home the family consisted of a stepfather, mother, and daughter.  The stepfather, Michael, had short silver hair followed by a salt and pepper mustache and beard.  His muscular body stood at six foot, weighing two hundred and ten pounds.  Working in a local mineshaft formed the muscles in his body, because of this job dirt and grime outlined minor cuts and scabs that concealed his inner evil. 

On the inside of Michael rot and decay suffered dearly.  This wasn’t the suffering caused by an illness but a violent behavior that would be doom for some.  Away from work he lived another life, a life that some would find appalling or disturbing.  Although his family was aware of this secret identity there was nothing they could do, for they were trapped in his enclosure.

His wife, Elizabeth, was a short, slim woman who resembled a skeleton covered in skin.  She wore her auburn hair pulled back in a bun; the only time she took it down was to bathe.  She was the imitation of a mouse, small, timid, scared, and the most helpless victim on the food chain. 

For Elizabeth and her daughter, living consisted of obeying and remaining quiet without any complaint.  This was their key to survival, the fading scars and indigo bruises proved that.  To Michael they would and never could be good enough to meet his impossible expectations of living.

Vivian, their daughter carried the appearance of her biological father.  Her blond hair fell down her shoulders and ended in the center of her back, at times it resembled the gold flooding from the sun.  Her body was young, supple, sexy, beautiful, and her eyes were a magnanimous shade of sapphire mixed with a dash of gray. 

Not only was she blessed with being visually stunning but her inner beauty made her a Goddess.  Although her stepfather was too blind to see the beauty beneath her skin, others saw it and adored her for it.  Elizabeth held pride that Vivian contained the loyalty and beauty her real father once held.

Vivian was lucky enough to become familiar with the charm her true father had.  She was able to learn from his cheerful attitude that so many women crooned over and so many men envied.  Recalling the day of her father’s death was as clear as a mirror reflecting an image.  She was five at the time and the summer had begun weeks ago.  It was in the next room that her father died violently coughing blood.

Vivian recalled holding his large, clammy hand as he drew in shallow breaths.  After the wheezing passed his cough became intense.  Blood flowed out like water from a geyser with each cough.  Vivian panicked then screamed for her mother while her father twitched in convulsions as his oxygen was suffocated. 

Elizabeth ran into the room and Vivian instantly embraced her mother.  Before Elizabeth could hold her husband’s hand the image of death found a resting place inside the windows of his soul.  Lines of crimson blood streamed from his thin, pale lips and the convulsions stopped as the last breath was devoured from his mouth.

When he died, both mother and daughter depended on each other for comfort.  Once Elizabeth