'Sweetie, Sweetie come here for a second' said a young, blonde woman.
Through the back door of the house ran a small, black haired child, a big grin on his face and hair just above his eyes. 'Looks like someone needs a haircut, after work today I'll cut it for you.' She said again. The boy just smiled and giggled at her 'Okay mummy.' He said, in a sweet and innocent voice.
He ran back outside and started kicking a football around. The mother started putting on her makeup while noise was heard from upstairs, footsteps getting closer to the steps, slowly someone started walking downstairs. 'Morning deary.' Said the woman. The man walked past and kissed her on the cheek. 'Morning babe.' He said. He waved to his child outside.
Shouting and banging was heard from upstairs yet again as two teenagers ran downstairs. 'Mum, tell Jennifer to stop taking my things, I need my pencil case for school and she keeps taking it. Just because she loses her stuff.' Said the male teenager. 'Jenni, give Allen his things back and get to school.' Said their mother. Jennifer gave the pencil case back as they both left at the same time. From the kitchen the father was over-heard saying 'Tiger, come here now, we need to get you ready for the day.' to his son. The boy ran back inside as the mother was leaving. 'I'm off now, have a great day you two.' She left the house and drove off in her car. The father noticed his son looking a little depressed when she left. 'Don't worry, she'll be coming back later.' He said to him. The boy just smiled and ran off.
Later that day the father got a phone call, which was answered by the boy. 'Hello.' He said. 'Hello their son, is your daddy home.' Asked the female on the other side of the phone. The boy nodded and said yes, then handed the phone to his father.The conversation was unheard but when the father put the phone down he dropped to his knees, started crying, and hugging the boy. 'Daddy what's wrong?' He asked.
With no answer but tears, the boy started crying with him. Not long after Allen and Jennifer ran through the front door crying, they all hugged, and cried together. After a few minutes Allen brought up the courage to speak; 'I can't believe mum really died.' He said. Silence filled the room that was once happy and joyful.
A few days past and it was the day of the funeral, everyone was sat down by the grave of the mother, crying, sobbing, watching and never blinking, just staring as they lowered the coffin into the grave. The father looked at Allen and Jennifer in tears then looked around for his other son, with no sight of him. He stood up and looked in the crowd but he was no where to be seen.
The whole audience of grievers just observed the situation, blankly watching the father scoot past people in an attempt to find his missing child, while in the distance was heard screeching of a car and people screaming. The father, dreading the outcome, rushed over to the scene and there he saw it... His own child dead in the road, as the wake of his own mother.
The family were in grieve other the loss of two members. The father walked into the kitchen to get a drink off water, he got a glass out of the cupboard, put it under the tap, filled it up and drank the whole thing. When he was finished he looked outside and he swore he could see something. He swore he saw his son playing with a football.
He burst through the door with lightning speed and ran out to the back yard, only to see the ball rolling, nothing else, no-one else. The ball stopped as the father walked back into the house. He started to plan his son's funeral with the rest of his family. They got all the details sorted out, the money to pay for it, and before they knew it the day had arrived. Once again they were back at the cemetery, at their wake, this time for their six year old son. Tears fell like a waterfall and the ceremony came to an end but in the crowd... Stood the young boy, bleeding and broken. No-one seemed to noticed though... Except for the father. For the past couple of years, the news would always report a child's death, all who were male, all who were six and all who got buried in the same place... And at every wake was seen, somewhere in the crowd, the same little boy, the one who first died, smiling innocently and giggling to himself... They call him the Waking Child.
