About thirty minutes later, there was a knock at the front door. Mother felt a chill creep down her spine. She reached for the broom in the kitchen before answering the door.
Mother stared at the red-face woman through the screen door.
"Your son hit my boy with a brick," she fumed.
"Really?" replied Mother. "When did this happen?"
The woman glared. "About half-an-hour ago. My boy was walking home from school, when your son threw a brick and it hit him in the face."
Mother called for Mike, who started to give his side of the story.
The woman did not bother to listen. When she said Mike was lying, Mother stepped out on the porch with the broom. "Get off my porch or I'll sweep you off!"
The woman was speechless. She was not afraid of the broom, but the look on Mother's face. She began to walk backwards as if in a trance. Mother had to tell her to watch out for the steps.
I am not sure what frightened the woman. It had to be something behind the look on Mother's face. How do I know this? There would be incidences in my life where I had given someone a 'special look' causing them to fear me. It is not something I can control. Otherwise, I would use it all the time. It is more like a primitive reaction to a specific situation. In Mother's case, she was protecting her son. In mind, I had been protecting my honor.
More to come...
Saturna Brown's website: alieninthekitchen.spaces.live.com
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