Painting

One fall Friday afternoon Johnny got home from school and ran into his families two story house. He chucked his backpack on the floor by the steps and then climbed them two-at-a-time up to his room. When he arrived at the top of the stairwell he felt the sun beaming through the old windows on his back and as he looked into the sunlight he could see even the little dust particles dancing around while they glistened and gleamed. He admired for a few seconds but then remembered he had a task to do so he left and went on into his room. His door slammed behind him with a squeak and a loud bang.

He knew exactly where his guitar was, right where he left it yesterday. He had just bought a new case for it and couldn’t wait to enjoy it and to practice his new song. It felt like fifteen minutes later when his mom called him for dinner. He then suddenly realized that he had been playing for a good three hours. He thought about all the homework he had to do this weekend and shuddered. He decided to leave that thought out of his mind until Sunday afternoon.

After dinner he practiced with his brothers, Billy, Willy, and Louis. They had been playing together for as long as they could remember and it was their favorite pastime. He went to bed at about ten thirty and couldn’t stop thinking about his solo. It replayed over and over in his head like a broken record until he finally drifted off to sleep.

He was amidst in his dream when suddenly he felt a harsh cool push on his right shoulder. He thought it was something from his dream so he just grunted and rolled over. Then, again was that cool even harder push but now on his left shoulder. He squinted his eyes open while half asleep and saw someone standing there. “Johnny wake up! Mom is sick, come quick. We need your help. Come on, man!” shouted his oldest brother Louis. When he heard the word mom he jumped out of bed and ran out of his room stumbling and feeling around like a blind man. He was in such a rush to see his...