Night's Natural Shadows

Joshua is sitting home alone. What Joshua doesn't know is what is outside his front door.

Air in a common plumbing pipe, or an air vent, can make a sound, like a thud. And it does. Joshua looks out his window to see nothing but night's natural shadows.

A strong wind can knock branches about, and if circumstance are just right, can bump them into stationary things, like houses. And one strong wind does. Joshua curls up in his blanket, praying for his mother.

But God speaks. "You are the son of none," He says. "You were born of this house."

But there is no God, so He doesn't really speak. An over-carbonated can of Coke can kick about made-up voices.

Joshua will not sleep. He does not know this yet, but he will breath and tremble, awake until his mother is standing on the front stoop fumbling with her keys. Until then, he will jerk with every cold draft. But after, when she's passed through the doorway and calls his name in tired monotony, when the sun toys shadows through his tightly shut blinds, then his trembling will cease. He will be able to sleep.