Member-only story
The End Is Near
She stood at the front door, trying to decide whether or not to enter her father’s home. However, it had stopped being her father’s home. Her father no longer had any say over the matter of this domicile. But his daughter entered anyways, because she was told by her stepmother that she, his daughter, was family.
His daughter certainly didn’t feel like family. She felt more like an intruder, interrupting everyone else’s schedule, starting from the early morning routines to the late night prayers that took place in the living room.
Late night prayers? For what? For whom?
These were prayers for her father, done with earnest by her stepmother. His daughter watched her stepmother every night sit in a chair that was next to her father's recliner, the recliner that her father could no longer sit in. Her stepmother would hold her rosary beads and whisper softly to the unseen God in her heart.
His daughter watched as her stepmother would roll each bead between her fingers, pausing at each bead, as sounds emanated from her lips.
His daughter watched with curiosity as this ritual took place every night, without fail, at 8:30 pm.
As his daughter entered the house, her eyes fell upon the clock. The time read 9:30 pm.
