R S Crow

Haunts of Cruelty R S Crow

When your child goes missing, how vast does the earth become? Who can truly help, and where is comfort? And when you deliberately go into a place you never intended, what will they say? Excerpt from the book: Chapter 12 The sun sets colorless beneath the expanse of stretched out rainclouds as they blacken in darker shades with the disappearance of another day; bruised vestiges of purple touch the end of the horizon as the only evidence of the sun's departure. From the wicker seat, Jeremiah stares out from the front porch. He looks over the familiar houses of neighbors before him and can see glimpses of the neighborhood beyond. All of creation has been tainted before his bloodshot eyes, sleepless and tortured. Every shadow hides his son. Every door. Afar off past the trees, his mind's eye carries Jeremiah over an endless earth that has opened its mouth and swallowed his son. He feels like a prisoner isolated away in a concrete tower, permitted only to watch the sun come and go as the rest of the world moves about in their freedoms. Jeremiah asks of the coming night, "Where would I hide a child?" The answer is there, behind his ears, but saying it out loud instills a seed of hopelessness inside of him, bound to sprout and bloom. A voice answers. His own. "In my own home." The uttered confession disturbs a panic within Jeremiah's chest, tightening it in asphyxiation. He gasps in an attempt to regain his breath. Gasps again. Hand to his chest. He stands to find air and breathes easier. Barely. His eyes filled with tears, Jeremiah shakes the railing in a fit of futile frustration as he begs through gritted teeth, "Please."