Rough and unedited piece from Fish In A Barrel.[I don’t have a name for The Publican yet – suggestions welcome!].
The morning had been brisk despite the heat of the night before. The Publican had woken on his deck, after too many beers, and had struggled to get the cans out of the way so he could stand on stable ground, with a groggy head full off hazy memories only a few hours old.
He’d gone inside to make some eggs, something he was actually really shit at. It was usually his older son’s job to get breakfast, but he’d been away for the last month visiting his mother. The Publican’s ‘thank fuck she left me but what a bitch for leaving me’ ex.
He went to wake Sam, drag him from his bed. Thought it was weird the kid wasn’t racing around the lawn with his dog, up before the crack of dawn, getting his feet muddy before the sun could dry it to his feet.
But he had not been in bed or in the yard. In fact, the Publican couldn’t even recall him coming home for supper that night, having taken off with the twins to the river to play in the late afternoon, with a ‘make sure you’re home before the lights are on’ trailing behind him as he ran off down the street.
When he’d walked around the house more times than his throbbing head could count, the Publican had decided to take a short wander into town, sure the boy had probably come home, made himself noodles and put himself to bed while he was passed out on the porch; and then woken up and taken off early, excited for bold adventures with his new found friends.
Yet something felt…off.
– Fish In A Barrel.