Daddy's Door



The pair of shoes, scuffed and worn, stood sentinel at the door.



Ugh, they look really smelly…



Wait! I know that smell!

I would never mistake that scent of dirt and fresh grass…

I immediately ran for the house…



And there he was as I entered our open door, barefoot, and standing in the middle of the living room in our old house.

He’s home! He’s finally home! Gosh, how I’ve missed him. He’s been gone for, what, six months? See, he was a policeman here in our province but he was called to Manila to serve under the new administration.

“Daddy!” I managed to say. I immediately caught his attention.

I didn’t even want to contain my excitement. I immediately ran to him and he took me in his arms. What? I was four.

“Hey, baby. I’ve missed you too.” He said, as he laughed at my overexcitement and tickled me all over. We were in that position for how what felt like forever. No matter, we were both clearly enjoying it.



After the excitement was over, I finally got a good look at him.

Wow, he’s changed. He was thinner than before he left. He looked sunburned and tired, more mature. Oh, is that a scar on his left cheek? Who hurt him? I’ll kill them! No one has the right to hurt my daddy!

But despite those changes and his surprising wound, I still softened when I saw his eyes. They were still that rich light brown color—the same shade as mine were. And his smile, it hasn’t changed one bit. It’s like he was always happy to see me.



 Daddy settled on the sofa, and I lied down on his lap as he stifled a yawn. After a few moments of silence, daddy stood up and stretched his arms.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go to bed. I’m already tired…”

I followed him up the stairs to his room, and when I got there, he was already changed into his pajamas.

I wished him good night then he closed the door on me.

I was already sleepy back then, so I headed downstairs to my own bed.

Dad was finally back. We’re together again.

And with that happy thought in mind, I closed my eyes and slept.







Huh? What’s that? Did I just hear a creak? Well, maybe it’s just the rats. Pesky little things…



Wait! There it is again! Another creak… but where is it coming from?

Still a little groggy from sleep, I went out of bed and wandered around the house looking for that sound. As I reached the foot of the stairs, I saw a man in the dark. I think it was a man. I mean, he was wearing a black mask so I didn’t really know.

I stood there at the foot of the stairs, frozen. No voice would come out of me. I was too scared to speak.

The man didn’t notice me, and I watched him as he slowly climbed up the stairs and headed for daddy’s bedroom. I heard him turn the knob and open the door, then there was silence.

What was happening? I didn’t know what to do. Why is the man in daddy’s room? Why is he wearing a mask? Why is he here?

As I can’t bear to just stand there, I did the only thing I can think of doing: I ran. I ran up the stairs, wanting to be with daddy, and wanting to know what that man in the mask was up to.

A few more steps and I could peek through the door… just a little more—



BANG!

I reached the door, shaking, not wanting to peer into the room.

But I wanted to know if daddy was okay, so I mustered up all my courage and just… went for it.

The scene was frightening. The man in the mask was standing over my father, wiping his gun with my father’s sheets.

And daddy, oh daddy! I felt cold all over. I couldn’t even recognize his face. It looked like his head was blown off, pieces of his brain were scattered everywhere. I can’t look, I just can’t…



I stood there in silence for a while… then I heard another round of rustling coming from the room. I didn’t want to, but something inside me was telling me to look, and I did.

The man carried daddy’s body—what’s left of it, actually—and placed it in a big sack with a loud thump, then he hurled it over his shoulder and proceeded to exit the room.

Our eyes met. He saw me at the door, looking.

I stood there, frozen. I felt like I couldn’t move.

The man went near me and removed his mask. He looked innocent with it off, but I know that he wasn’t.

He gave me a sweet smile and patted me on the head.

“What a good boy!” he said.
 What the?!

Then he carefully took the stairs one by one, and I followed him down, still shaken up about what happened and really, really confused.

He opened the front door, put his mask back on, and then shut it closed.

As the door closed, reality came.

My daddy was dead. The man shot him in the head. I don’t have a daddy anymore.

Rage came in fast. I wanted to hurt that man. I wanted to make him pay for what he did to my daddy! I wanted to kill him… but I know that I can’t do anything. I can’t.



 And as I lay there beside the pair of shoes—my daddy’s shoes—scuffed and worn, that stood sentinel at the door, I wished with all my might, and with all my being, that my paws would be able to open that door.











Photos:https://barefootmonologues.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/dirty-shoes.jpg
                            http://cdn.mysitemyway.com/etc-mysitemyway/icons/legacy-previews/icons/black-ink-grunge-stamps-textures-icons-animals/010697-black-ink-grunge-stamp-texture-icon-animals-animal-cat-print.png

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