Tempest

A tempest swirled over the farm, the clouds rolling closer and closer until their large grey bodied combined as one swirling enemy.

Clay stood in the window, nervously wringing his hands as his eyes danced between the clouds and the scarecrow standing guard in the field. He did not see his sister until she spoke.

“Clay,” Millie asked, worry lacing her voice. “What are ya doing still awake?”

“I’m worried about Pa. What if something happens to ‘em?”

“He’ll be fine. You shouldn’t worry about that. Just focus on getting some rest. We ‘ave the inspector comin’ tomorrow. Ya should look ya best.” Millie reached for Clay’s arm, Her grip firm across his bicep, but Clay stayed put, eyes still rooted to the scarecrow.

“Maybe we should just go out and check on ‘em. Just to make sure everything is ok.”

“But we don’t have too. I promise everything is fine. Now go to bed.”

“But what if it's not,” Clay asked, spinning around as panic laced his voice. “What if everything isn’t fine and we’re held accountable for what we did.”

“We ain’t gonna be held accountable for nothing! Ya, hear me! Nothing!” Millie suddenly yelled out, a new kind of rage twisting her mouth down at the corners and darkening her eyes. “We ain’t gonna be held accountable for nothing because none of it was our fault! It ain’t our fault for what Pa did to us! It ain’t our fault people turned a blind eye! So it ain’t definitely ain’t our fault for doing what we had to do! Is that clear!”

Clay stood in shock, hands clenched to his sides as he slowly shook his head.

“Now.” Millie breathed out, stiff and cold “Go. To. Bed.”

As Clay brushed past her he paused in the doorway, watching her shoulders rise and fall with heavy breaths.

“Ya know.” He said quietly, “Ya startin’ to sound a lot like Pa.” Before he disappeared into the dark, old house.

Now alone, Millie watched out the window at the darkening sky, mirroring Clay’s previous stance. His words echoed in her ears like a drum, a pulsating drum that she could not drown out or ignore. To give a semblance of peace, of knowing right from wrong, she glanced at the scarecrow.

It stood there, bending in the wind, the hat tilted to the wrong side and the flys buzzing in and around the mouth. She then noticed the shoe, lying on the ground, below the pink foot now turning grey.

Turning around, Millie fetched her coat and stepped outside.