Filed to story: Penny and Navy Brother Asher
After a few minutes, I start making grounds through the house,
Checking windows.
When I get to the front room, I find a couple windows cracked open-probably from when my mum tried to air out the house earlier.
I love them and latch them feeling the immediate difference as the cold edge of the storm is sealed out.
By the time I circle back to the kitchen, the house smells like something good onions and garlic sautéing, fresh hood warming in the orn
My mom’s standing at the stove now, stirring a pot with her back to me. My dad stands next to her slicing bread.
They both glance up when I walk in.
“Hey, honey,” my mom says warmly. “Everything good?”
I nod, sliding onto a stool at the island.
Bad finishes arranging the bread and starts setting the table,
“Where’s your brother? Mom asks, glancing around.
“He got a call and headed out. Said it’s close by.”
Sho the frowns slightly but doesn’t argue
Boys will be boys or whatever dumb phrase people use to excuse Idiocy.
So, Dad says, pouring three glasses of water, “how’s it feel being home?
I roll my shoulders, considering how honest to be
“Different,” I say finally
Be nods like he understands and maybe he does, in a way,
He left home young too. Dillerent reasons, different generation, but still atehere. Well,” Mom says, turning off the stove and carrying the pot to the table, we’re glad you
We sit down around the kitchen table-plates full, the storm rumbling steadily outside like some giant clearing his throat. o my mom says, clearly trying to sound casual, how long are you thinking of staying?”
I shrug. “Don’t know yet”
“Good,” she says immediately. “You need time to just be here.”
Dad points at me with his fork. “You need to relax. No orders, no drills, no alurms.”
“Just chores,” I mutter.
“Chores build character.” Dad says, dead serious
I short into my bread.
Mom shakes her head fondly, “hovore your father. We’re just happy to have you home.”
We into an easy rhythm of eating for a few minutes – the clink of forks, the hum of the storm outside filling the spares between conversation,
Then Dad sets his glass doses and says, “Oh-invited Penny for dinner tomorrow,”
I glance up, raising an eyebrow.
“Figured she shouldn’t be stuck eating frozen dinners alone during this mess,” he adds.
Mom perks up immediately, wiping her hands on her napkin. “I’m thinking lasagna. You think she likes lasagna?”
“Everyone likes lasagna,” Dad says,
Mom laughs so hard he almost chokes on her water.
“Poor girl,” dad says.
Mom’s eyes soften. “She’s sweet. I don’t like the idea of her being all alone.”
“She’s tougher than she looks,” I say before I can stop myself.
They both glance at me…
Not suspicious, exactly-hut curious.
Mom smiles. “Well, that’s good to hear.”
Dad grins. “Maybe you’re finally making friends, Ash.
I scoud at him. ‘She’s not my friend,
“Sure,” he says, drawing out the word like he doesn’t believe a syllable of it.
Mom claps her hands together. “Lasagna, salast, maybe that lejon cake she can take home after.”
Dad pretends to swoon. “You’re an angel.”
Flattery will get you dessert,’ she says, laughing.
They fall into easy banter about groceries and recipes, and I sit back, listening, letting their warmth wash over me without having to participate much.
Dinner wraps up. We clear the table together-scmping plates, rinsing dishes, loading the dishwasher.
I wiping down the counters when it happens
The lights flicker.
Once
Twice.
Then the whole house plunges into darkness
The TV shuts off mid-sentence.
The stove clock blinks out.
The fridge hum dies.
For a second, the only sound is the rain lashing against the windows and the sharp P
“Well,” Dad says into the dark, there goes that
Mom laughs, more amused than worried.
I stand still for a second, letting my eyes adjust, listening
“You remember how to start the generator? Dad asks, frowning out the rain-streaked window like he might will the power back on Lumbergh sheer dad energy.
“Not really,” Mom says, biting her lip. I mean, I know we have one. Somewhere.”
They both look at me.
I sigh, pushing up from the kitchen counter where I was drying plates in the dark. figure it out.”
Bad claps me on the back. “Knew we kept you around for a reason.
I grab my phone, flicking the flashlight on, and head for the basement door.
The house groans as another gust of wind slams against it, but the stairs hold steady under my weight as I move down, phone light bousring against the walls.
It smells like old wood, damp stone, and forgotten Christmas decorations.
I navigate by instinct more than sight, stepping over old boxes and discarded furniture without hesitation.
Darkness never bothered me
Penny had asked me yesterday half-joking, half-curious if I was scared of the dark.
I’d shrugged, told her no.
It’s true.
When you’re trained right, you don’t need your eyes to survive.
You listen for shifts in the air.
Feel vibrations under your feet.
Trust your gut when it tells you something’s wrong.
Darkness isn’t the enemy.
Complacency is.
I find the generator shoved against the far wall behind some rusted gardening tools.