Whiskey

"My mama was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life. To this day her voice keeps me company in the quiet nights I lay upon this here pillow. Mama, she was sad, sadder than a fish in the desert. Her smile never read sadness though, that pretty smile she always held day in and day out. I miss my mama, my Brother is about a chicken's height holding up his pillow and blanket, he misses her too. Papa, he don't care much. Never really did about our mama. He's a very angry man, the wrinkles in his face are frozen in a mad expression, like someone done spit on his shoe.
My brother and me, we only live with papa now. Mama gone and left a few moons ago, sadness made her cry herself to sleep. In the back of our hovel, Papa let Crut and me make Mama a gazing bed, almost as pretty as her I'd say. She lay there now, sinking in the dirt making flowers and crop.
Quiet nights like these, when I lay upon this pillow. I swear I can hear her soft calming voice singing' me a lullaby to help me fall asleep without stressin. My bed is closest to the ceiling, so close I can smell the hay that lay on the rooftop - and sometimes, if it's windy enough, little bits will fall on my face and wake me right up. Crut sleeps under me, since he a smaller one. I'm going on my 12 year, he about to come up on his 8th.
Papa earn him a single room all by himself to sleep. He has a wood floor, he gotta deal with the bugs and crawlies that sleep in his bed like it's their own. Papa has to get up every so often in the night and shake his blanket out before he lay down again, or he'll wake up with bumps like a lizard's back from the bites they give him. One time, a spider bit him so hard that he had a white dot on his shoulder for at least a week or two. Had him hollerin when Crut and me had to take out the crown of it."