The Nightmare

He slithered along the low wall opposite their house like a snake. He woke up at about 2am two nights ago, hungry. He decided to raid the fridge downstairs. His mother would always stock the fridge to the brim at the beginning of every month. She worked with a health Firm and worked long and strenuous hours, which meant that she rarely had time for the family which interestingly consisted of himself and his mother.

His father bowed out two years prior on reasons that his mum didn't want to talk about. He didn't want to talk about it too, as it meant reliving the brutal beatings and screams that accompanied him home every night after he came back from the beer parlour down the road.

Things hadn't always been like that, at least not at the beginning when he was growing up. He was a happy little boy until his father lost his job due to the recession that ravaged the whole country that necessitated a reshuffling in the company where he worked. He lost the official car that was the perk of his position and became a drunkard. Before he lost his job, he had an expensive taste in armani suits, handmade Italian shoes and men's jeweleries and never contributed to the wellbeing of his home, except for his son's school fees. His mother never bothered because she earned well and was prudent enough with it.

He quickly blew through the little savings he managed to scrounge up from his numerous accounts. He demanded for money on a daily basis from his wife and got beaten up when she couldn't cough it out soon enough. His Pellow drunkard friends urged him to take control of his home by collecting his wife's salary to show who was the boss. She refused to hand it over and got the beating of her life that landed her in an hospital. The scars on her torso told her story. She filed for an official court separation and a restraining order against him as she didn't believe in divorce.

Ernest noticed the lights yesterday too and vowed to check it out. He had tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen, gently eased the door open, and shimmied through the small gap because it creaked loudly if it was opened completely. The cold air gave him goosebumps.

He climbed over the wall using the pieces of blocks and planks that he had arranged there hours before dinner. His heart was hammering in his chest, but curiosity and a sense of adventure got the better of him. He was further emboldened by the Sherlock Holmes novel he was reading.

He loved how fearless and intelligent he was and longed to be like him. He moved slowly and carefully in the shrubbery so as not to alert them to his coming. He slung the camera he got for his last birthday on his shoulder and crept nearer. He soon got to the porch of the house and looked through the open window. He opened his mouth and found it hard to close it. He scrambled for his camera and took some shots, being careful not to let its flash show. He heaved a sigh of satisfaction and turned to go back the same way he came, when strong hands grabbed him and lifted him up. He looked up to his father's face. "You shouldn't really be looking. You know?" He said with a wicked grin. He then threw him over the Fence and back into his compound. He landed with a thud on the floor, with a scream trapped in his throat. His pyjamas was damp with sweat. He breathed a sigh of relief when he looked around and found himself in his room. He must have fallen right off his bed. He managed to stand up and reach for the bottle of water on his nightstand. He peeped through the window blinds and still saw the eerie lights.

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Encourage me for more stories like this. Thanks.