One moment of joy. One moment of terror. And a father who refuses to stop crawling.
This is Part 3 of the novel Death on Fridays. Start from The Old Man in the Chair.
A sudden force ripped everything apart.
It was an explosion.
A terrorist group called The Algoledes had attacked the city, and in many ways, the whole state of Phoenixia.
Everything fell dead silent. The wind could be heard clearly. The air was calm, but heavy.
Dust swallowed the festival. The place turned lifeless and dark. Corpses lay all around. The ground turned red. Many had lost limbs. Most of the crowd showed no sign of life.
“Huhn!” John gasped for air.
Fatigued. Numb. Mind blank.
He looked around, slowly regained consciousness, and tried to stand.
“What just happened? Where’s Linda? Where are the kids?”
He gathered every bit of strength and tried to walk. He felt almost nothing in his body. His left leg was badly injured, ankle displaced, bone visible.
Still, without fully realizing the severity, he moved forward, dragging himself through the wreckage as cries and sobs echoed through the dark.
Then he heard a shrill voice:
“Mother, wake up, mother!”
The voices seemed familiar…
Some nights end and never really end. A father crawls on, refusing to stop — because somewhere in the dark, someone he loves is still calling.
This is where this preview closes. If you want a gentler kind of love next, read What Is Love? — or drift to a warmer island in Love on Fridays.
