Dwellings of the father
2 February 1965
“They won’t listen to me! That filthy tramp had everyone convinced. It was a werewolf, a beast. Yet they all let him go!” Father seethed behind the closed door.
He had his ear pressed to the wooden door. Mother had sent him away the moment father began his ranting. Yet his curiosity prevented him from falling asleep. He needed answers. Why was father working so much? Why did mother smile less? Who were these monsters?
“I know Lyall” mother soothed. “But you can’t do anything about it” she comforted.
He sighed and his pacing footsteps echoed through the door.
“They are monsters! It is my job, my duty to make sure they are punished” he continued, as though he hadn’t heard her.
“I know Lyall” she sighed again. “But this obsession-“ she begun.
“Obsession?! I am doing the right thing” he snapped.
He was beginning to feel nervous. It was scary to hear his father so angry.
“Yes but your family needs you too. He’s been asking for you, you know. You are always gone. We need you too” mother argued.
“I am doing this for you. The world will be a safer place for our boy to grow up in without these beasts!” father snapped back.
“You weren’t here at christmas day, or boxing day. Now you missed my birthday. We waited for you. Yet you were to busy to eat dinner with your wife and son” mother sounded angry too now. He had never really heard her angry. It was unnerving.
“Yes but this Greyback case-“ father begun.
“No Lyall. It is always something. I am going to bed” her footsteps echoed down the hall to their bedroom.