"One Sunday Evening" A short story.

Our Victorian on North Street was nestled between an abandoned house and a Pacific Bell company. In front of the empty Pacific Bell building was an aged truck. The man that lived in it always parked there through the week and most of the weekend. Only occasionally could you see him around town. Every once in a while he might be parked in front of the public pool, or the county courthouse. On the other …

…after swinging the door open. "Daniel needs help. He got hurt. He's upstairs in our room." The stares I got seeped into me slowly and I remembered how much trouble I would soon be in. Before I realized he had gone past me, I could here the steps of Dad rushing up the stairs. Mom was not far behind. I turned around, and as soon as I gained enough courage, I staggered up the steps.