It was sunny and the wind was blowing from the west the day that Jack Mudge’s father died. He was a farrier by trade. A horse had reared up and the front left hoof came down square on his chest, heavy and final. He didn’t die right away. He lay in the front room of the small house, gasping for breath, and the sun shone through the window and lit his scruffy, pale face. Jack walked in slowly, his boots scuffing through the powdery sand that had blown in under the door. He placed his hat on the table and sat at his father’s side, silent for minutes as breath rattled around the lungs and through the dry lips of the man that loved him so.
frances on In the Morning BenML’s #CBR5… on World War Z by Max Brooks BenML’s #CBR5… on While Mortals Sleep by Kurt Vo… The Cabin (Part VI/T… on The Cabin (Part V) The Cabin (Part VI/T… on The Cabin (Part IV)