Fear
A harsh knock rang out from the front door of the farmhouse in Camberwell, forcing James awake. A man from the outside cleared his throat and called out. “James? Are you in there boy?”
James’s bloodshot green eyes shifted up from the ground to the door, his hands tensing on the arm rests of the lounge chair he sat on.
“Come in,” he said with a voice that sounded like he hadn’t had any water or spoken in a day.
The door opened and James flinched away from the daylight that shined over his face. Stanley Shepperd walked into the room with a raised brow. “Boy, why are you just sitting in the dark like a creep?”
James sighed. This was not what he needed first thing in the morning. “Why are you here Stanley?” he asked, shifting his eyes back to Stanley..
“Another one of these greetings? I’m starting to get the impression that you don’t like me, James,” Stanley said with a mocking tone as he went around the room and started to open all of the curtains.