Fiction

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The Cold Hard Floor

Liam’s room was very dark; as he sat up on the edge of his bed staring out the window of his century old home. A home he loved and was very comfortable in, without even looking he knew it was very early but he looked at his clock anyway, three thirty, his heavy lids closed for just a moment. Out of his window he could see the lit steeple of the near by church. It was cold again, and even inside he could tell that the cool winter air promised by the weather man had moved in. The night was so still and so quiet that he felt, not uncomfortable as some people might, but at ease and comfortable on the edge of his bed. Knowing his night of sleep was done and he was not going to sleep anymore, despite himself, he got up and descended the stairs knowing before each step which ones squeaked and creaked and which ones did not make a sound.
The house was situated in a small town only one block from main street. Although it had the name main street it was located in a town of no more than fifteen hundred people, and it was anything but main. What made his mother move there was that it was small town. By all accounts it was small town, everyone talked with each other, everyone knew each other, and rush hour was five cars one road. It made it more homey according to Liam’s mother and he tended to agreed with her.
There was no more light in the stairwell than there was in his room, even less for now he did not have the light cast by the church steeple, but he stepped like he was in full light. His mildly callused foot touched the cold hardwood floor at the bottom of the noisy staircase of the old house. He liked the way the wood floors felt on his feet cool, and smooth, the smooth warn feeling that comes with years of ware and hundreds of trips in the same line. He easily followed the time warn floor threw the pitch black house. He let out one last big stretch as he reached the kitchen door and turned on the light. He routinely walked over to the coffee pot to start the coffee maker as he did every day. Even though he was only fourteen years old, his mother had allowed him to drink coffee mostly because of his maturity but also because of his chronic insomnia. He had never been much of a sleeper, and often was up early in the morning. After starting the coffee Liam returned to his room and pulled down one of his many Bibles. Liam had collected them, everyone that he could ever get his hands on. He collected as many different translations and versions that he could and anything and everything that had to do with theology and Christianity. He had started when he was very young, his mother had thought that very odd, that he was drawn more to a Bible than to Lemony Snickets, but she never discouraged it despite her lack of personal faith. She never understood Christianity and never encouraged what she thought was unusual behavior, she also however never discouraged it, she was just indifferent. She never even took him to church, so the thought of being more attracted to Church more than the playground was foreign to her. Liam always found ways to get to church on his own and often will go to different churches when he can.
He sat at his desk clicked on the small desk lamp and opened his Bible to the book of John, he paused, bowed his head, and prayed; for God’s blessing, and for God to expand his wisdom, then began to read. He embrased the words and let them sink in as he read each one like he was hungery for it.
He paused monetarily to gaze out the window and ponder the words he had just read. His mother peaked in.
“Good morning sweetie” His mother said with a yawn
“Morning mom”
“Trouble sleeping again?”
“Yeah” Liam said a little disconcerted.
“I’ll make you some breakfast. Eggs ok?” Kirsti said trying to lift him up. Kirsti was always a loving and encouraging mother.
“Sure” Liam said turning back to his bible.
His mother turned and headed for the bathroom, to shower and get ready for the day. Liam leaned back and looked out the window one more time, the sun was now making an appearance in the east casting a soft glow and showing the frost on the ground. He was always amazed at God’s creation but was also saddened that others could not enjoy with the same awe, including his mother. He prayed “God help me to hear your voice and to follow you, Lord lead me every step of every day.” He grabbed some clothes and with great speed and descended the stairs two at a time. Before his mother was down the stairs he had the coffee poured and awaited his breakfast. He sat at the old wooden kitchen table that his mom had bought at a garage sale along with some chairs. Liam liked it because it had character and the chairs were comfortable, like an old pair of jeans.

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