Oakfield, IV
Five days passed, without a moment of peace. The fire department were called out on two more occasions, but it was the same story both times: without permission to enter, there was little they could do.
We ate out most evenings just to get away from the house, but all we could think about was coming home to that relentless noise. Everyone was exhausted; the exception being Michael, who slept soundly despite the constant, piercing alarm tone. I was finding it difficult to drag myself in to work in the mornings; the classes in the tiny suburban school where I taught were getting smaller (and hence less stressful) year on year, but teaching is still no picnic when you’re sleep-deprived.
Eric and Ruth, the couple who lived next door, had taken to sleeping in their RV; they could drive a few miles out into the desert each night and escape. We had no such luxury.
Our daughter Emily had started wearing her fluffy pink Minnie Mouse earmuffs to bed. It had been another long day, and I was tucking her in early, in the hope that she’d somehow get enough sleep to minimise the morning tantrums.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?” I knew what was coming; I’d heard exactly the same question every night for the past five nights.
“When is it going to stop?”
“I don’t know, baby; we’re all trying really hard to find out. Now please, I know it’s not easy, but try to ignore it.” I slid the earmuffs down over her ears, and kissed her forehead. She wrinkled her nose.
“Night Daddy.”
I flicked off the bedside lamp, and tentatively picked my way out between the toys strewn across the floor.
Hi, my name's Mark. I'm trying to come up with some ideas for a book. Think of this as my online writing notebook: ideas, stories, beginnings, endings. Things that just pop into my mind. I'm also on Twitter as @markeebee.
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