Sins of a Father

Julia Walsh

by Julia Walsh

Story

The cellar was dark; cold, barren walls hidden behind pin boards decorated by a tabloid paper and scribbled notes. A little boy sat in a too big chair, his feet barely reaching the dirty floor if he stretched as far as he could without falling. He didn’t attempt to though, stopped by tubes procuring from his arm. A middle aged man hunched over his desk, muttering, while periodically glancing at the boys arm.

As clear liquids started spilling into the tube, the child squirmed in his seat, “I don’t wanna do this anymore, it hurts.”

“William, I don’t want to do this either, alright.” The man did not turn to speak, focused on his work. “For the last time, this is something much bigger than you, it pains me just as much, but you have to be strong for me. Don’t you want to help your old man figure this out?” After some silence he glances to his side to see the boy nod shyly, about to say something. “But-”

“No buts. You have to grow up and realize that there are more important things than playing around. Do you understand this?”

The boy dangled his feet while looking down, ashamed. A soft “Yessir” echoed in the cellar. “Good. Then stand up for me, won’t ya?” He scribbled on a note pad while the boy did as told. The man took out a vial with green liquid, feeding it to the concoction connected to the tube in the boy’s arm. The boy, already anxiously familiar with the process, took a pill hesitantly during preparations to stave off any lasting damages. “Be a brave boy and don’t move too much, I need this to be precise.”

With that, he pushed his glasses up, although his vision aids didn’t help him see the clear discomfort on the boy’s face as he cranked the lever. Murky liquids spilt out.

Echoes of screams of agony and terror follow him back, he can hear his father’s voice calling out his name. “Weasel!” No, no, his father never called him that. “Weasel?” Who was calling him?

“You in there? Hey, buddy?” He came to, blinking out of a haze, and suddenly noticed the hand ‐ Elmer’s hand – frantically waving in front of his face. “Are ya back with me?”

A quick look around reminded him of where he was. Right. The lab. They were at the entrance, sewer pipes along the walls and papers strewed, damp from dripping…he didn’t want to know, actually. “You stopped for a minute there, are you alright?” Weasel looked back at his partner before barreling past him, the floor suddenly turning so very interesting.

Yep.

“Yeah, I’m good, got lost in thought.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Elmer didn’t believe him, but he let it be for now. “Come on, let’s find these schematics.”

© Julia Walsh 2023-08-24

Genres
Science Fiction & Fantasy
Moods
Dunkel, Mysteriös, Reflektierend