Harbor My Strong Wolf

A/N- this is just a short story I wrote a few years ago as stress relief. What do you think?

Vote/Comment :) check out my other stories Happy reading!!

L.R.

This hour in the Harbor“s house was quiet now. The floorboards

creaked under foot. Snores drifted from a half-opened door，

a leaky facet dripped into an open sink. It was the loudest silence

the little house had ever heard. Funny how silence could be loud，

how wrong could be right.

Only an hour before， Mr. Harbor had arrived home from his day

in town. In a drunken rage， as every night before， he threw anything that came

within his reach and cursed until the devil himself would have felt shame.

Tonight had been a fairly easy night. Mr. Harbor“s temper raged at

inanimate objects until he passed out on the living room floor.

The Harbor“s house was a bare， but tidy affair. The entire house

consisted of two closet-sized bedrooms， a small living room that

doubled as a kitchen. There was no bathroom. They didn“t even

have the convenience of an old-fashioned outhouse. The three

rooms were clean but painfully bare.

Each bedroom consisted of a

single bed. Even if they had the money for more furniture， it

would never fit in the tiny rooms. Even the twin bed took up too

much room. The living room/kitchen consisted of a drippy sink，

two cupboards， and an old stove that was recovered from alongside a dirt road.

On one of Mr. Harbor“s sober days he had used some useless scrap wood to

construct a couple of hard-backed chairs and a faulty table. One

had to be very cautious as to how they sat anything on the table.

None of the four legs were the same length， so the table tended to

tilt and wobble at the touch of a feather.

For all of his faults and demons， Mr. Harbor did try to provide for

his family. Many tongue-waggers in town didn“t think that he

deserved the family that the good Lord had blessed him with.

They didn“t know， didn“t understand Mr. Harbor at all. They

never suspected the deep pain and suffering that drove him to the

drink.

The Harbors“ moved into town three years previous， and

were poorer then the dirt in the barren town. Mr. Harbor managed

to do some work， but most of the money he earned went to satisfy

his loneliness. Mr. Harbor“s family consisted of two daughters.

The girls“ ages being twenty-four and seventeen. Though being

underfed and wearing threadbare clothing did them no good， they

were beautiful to a fault. The girls were known in town for being

soft-spoken and exceedingly sweet. They were always ready to

lend a hand to any neighbor or stranger who appeared to need it.

They managed to take in a few odd jobs here and there. The

town“s people liked the girls and would occasionally offer them

jobs to keep them from starving. Despite their age and their

father“s wild ways， they never left him， nor did they want to. It

hurt them to see their dear father reduced to this wicked state. He

had been a very different man when their mother was alive.

Before they moved into this tiny house， they had lived in a

moderately nice city. They were far from rich， but they had

everything they needed. Love seeped through the walls of their

house and into the four happy souls who lived there.

Then tragedy. The girls had gone to the store to get a few items that

they needed for that nights dinner.

When they returned they found

their mother slumped over the kitchen table.

Several knife stabbings bloodied her back. She was dead when they found her.

When Mr. Harbor saw his wife dead， all happiness vanished from his life.

What was the point? Mrs. Harbor had been his best friend， his lover.

Every good memory had her in it. She brought sunshine to his otherwise dark world.

But now she was gone. Murdered while she prepared the family“s supper.