Whoosh, a small yellow-ball soars through the living-room, before summarily bopping Serenity on the noggin. From what he considers a safe distance, her brother Freedom erupts, uncontrollable laughter forming tears in the corners of his eyes. While palming her forehead, the seven-year-old girl scowls at the mischievous fifteen-year-old. The boy regularly taunts her when their father is away; Serenity, has had enough of it.

            After pretending to have returned to her cartoons, sneakily, yet clumsily, she retrieves the ball; tucking it to her belly-button. Swiftly Serenity then spins, pivoting off of one leg; small yellow-ball in her grip. “Hmph,” she huffs. Her brother… has left the room.

            Now in the kitchen, Freedom rummages through the fridge. Eyeing his father’s leftover- cheesecake, he ponders the potential-consequences of eating a small unnoticeable-piece. Slowly, and silently, he then peels the rubber-lid from its container. Fork in his grasp, he shaves off a sliver and slides it into his mouth, his teeth uncomfortably scratching the utensil. To ensure that the coast is clear, he then peaks over the refrigerator-door, before shaving off another slice. Upon lifting the fork, the small yellow-ball ricochets off of the freezer-door, popping Freedom on the nose, causing the container in his hands to fall to the floor; and the cheesecake to plop on the linoleum.

            “Ooh,” mouths Serenity.

            Outraged, Freedom slams the refrigerator shut. Afraid of his Father’s judgement, he shouts, “Look what you made me do!” immediately casting the blame on his sister. Angrily, he then strings together dim-witted epithets, scalding Serenity for returning the ball. Unpleased with her resilience, he snarks, “that’s why nobody likes you.”

            Serenity’s face suddenly shifts from neutral to puffy, her eyes watering.  “I’m t-telling Daddy!” she cries. Aware that she isn’t referring to the now ruined dessert, her brother tepidly palms her shoulders.  

            “I’m sorry, what do you want?” begs Freedom.

            “Ahhh...you’re hurting me!” screams the melodramatic child. When she then shakes free, she blubbers; but only audibly.  She is hurt; however, it’s Serenity’s heart that’s been bruised, and not her shoulders. “Don’t touch me,” she pouts, before then shakenly vacating the kitchen.  Flustered, her brother throws his hands to the sky, before then shakenly exclaiming-back, “Then go!”

            Five-minutes have past, and Freedom, who’s now in his bedroom, has finally managed to slow his pulse and come to his senses. His feet then follow that sensible thought, giving his heart no time to grow heavier. Upon exhaling deeply, he exits the bedroom. As he makes his way down to the living-room, it’s only as he reaches the last-few steps of the staircase that his pride intervenes.      Thump-thump, his heels drop harmoniously, momentarily drowning-out the voices from his sister’s cartoons. “Hey Serenity,” calls Freedom, his chest up to his slightly-lowered chin. “You know I’m so…,” he begins, and then pauses. Upon closer inspection, he then stops, and scratches his head. ‘Did I hear her come upstairs?’ he ponders, but doesn’t recall.

            Again, five-minutes pass, this time however Freedom is in hysterics. Upstairs, downstairs, the garage; Serenity is in none of them. The only thing missing as well; a fuzzy-technicolored blanket.  Round and round the boy paces, drunkenly stumbling from one worrisome thought to the next. Panting, he sighs, “where are you?” whilst finally opening the front-door.

            From the porch, his pupils dart from right to left; scanning to no avail. Stepping-out onto the lawn, he then gives it another go; but, still nothing. Staring at the garage, the last words of his father now echo through Freedom’s mind; “Stay in the house, I’ll be back soon.” Despite the command, Freedom, feeling as though he has no choice, nervously opens the garage and retrieves an aqua-blue-bicycle.

            The sun setting hastily, his anxiety then turns into determination. After turning left onto ‘Hope Court,’ the bicycle’s pedals are driven-round, just enough for Freedom to be carried by the momentum. That none of the neighborhood dogs are barking, is both comforting, and reason for concern. As it stands, the young-man lacks direction. His sister’s friends lie far beyond reach.

            As the street bends, the block then branches into fingers, none of which have an outlet; Freedom, investigates all of them. As hope thins his abdomen tightens; there’s only one other place he can think of, where she may have gone. Again, the aqua-blue-bicycle’s pedals are driven-round, but with the sun’s light now scarce, momentum isn’t enough.

            Vroom, a silver-sedan with gold-trim whisks past as he narrowly stops short of the intersection. Again, his eyes dart from right to left, before then peering into the alleyway across the street. With the last-light behind the horizon, a dying-bulb from a lamp-post breathes life into the shadows. Nevertheless, Freedom crosses. As the malformed-silhouettes stretch beyond puddles and discarded debris, fear vividly paints on Freedom’s imagination.

            “Ahhh!” a girly-scream is hollered, and then quickly followed by the jagged opening, and forceful closing of a sliding-glass-door. “Freedom!” shouts Serenity. Due to the failing-light, and a feint rustle against her tent, she’d suddenly decided that the backyard was unsafe. Inside, she now melodramatically awaits her brother’s response, fuzzy-technicolored-blanket slung over her shoulder. In vain, she pouts, then walks to the staircase which leads to the second-floor, and stomps on the first-step to gain his attention.

            It takes but a minute for Serenity to realize her abandoned state. She then locks everything, including the windows.  The dubious-tune which plays at the start of Dion’s Misadventures, twisting her confidence. The darkened cartoon is best suited for adults, yet Freedom often watched, much to the dismay of Serenity. ‘He left me,’ the thought clings to her soul and squeezes as the dastardly-melody repeats in her mind. Aloud, she then sorrowfully-proclaims, “You left me,” hoping that the words will somehow find her older-brother and convict him to return. Lower-lip quivering, Serenity then cries, “Daddy!”

            The crack of thunder, and a whip of lightning, turn the television black. Serenity, she flutters to the floor. Frightfully shivering, the child then wraps around herself, and rocks.

            Startled by the lightning, having just made it to the park, Freedom slides to a halt. Struck, a branch on the tree ahead sizzles in the dusk. Onward, Freedom must go onward. Despite the air’s incendiary-threats, he must find Serenity.

            The clouds weep softly as thunder again cracks, and Freedom’s heart tumultuously jumps. Bam…whilst glaring at the in-ember’d branch, the young man tumbles for a loop, skidding along the rain-sprinkled-gravel. The ground is slick, in Freedom’s favor. His lacerations, hardly noticeable; looking more like welts than scrapes. Nevertheless, as cool droplets of rain now fall upon his wounds, they burn.

            ‘Go back home,’ The words bubble-up from his belly and press against his temple. Still, Freedom advances, slippery grip continually readjusting to the handlebars; it’s all he can do, to remain upright. 

            Uncomfortable, it’s a word that describes Serenity’s current predicament. The pillows provide no cushion, her blanket provides no warmth, and try as she might, she can’t seem to stop her limbs from shaking.  Such irritability often pushed Freedom to consume, yet Serenity, her faith suggests rest. As she shivers her consciousness shudders, drifting into dreams; those of which she perceives as awake. Her loved ones, like smoky-figures, emerge and disappear with each passing blink as Serenity sinks into an ever-more-lucid daze.

            Feverishly, Freedom pedals, skidding over puddles and jetting water back like exhaust. Immediately, upon noting the emptiness of the jungle-gym’s covered-area, he’d turned-back. Suddenly attuned to the bicycle’s every move, he now races home, desperately hoping that Serenity has returned, yet frightened of what he’ll find.

            Swoosh… the road is no obstacle: Hop… the curb is conquered. Fear passes with the breeze, doing little but cool the boy’s cheek. Freedom, advances.

            Whilst opening her eyes, “Da-Daddy,” mumbles Serenity. Gleefully, she then attempts to shout but is silenced by excitement. She would jump, but her feet simply stick to the floor. Again, she hears it; “knock…knock…boom...boom…” The noise is hard to place, but there’s someone at the front-door; or so, the little-one reasons.

            A step later, and she’s down the steps. A step after that, and Serenity gleans that the front-door is ajar, a gentle gust like a persistent exhale, breathing through the breach. When, a jostling near the dinner-table steals Serenity’s attention, and robs her of worry…  

            “Give it back,” the alleyway’s miserable-acoustics dampen the shout. With his aqua-blue-bicycle in the hands of another, for the briefest moment, Freedom’s fear of his father had subsided. Not knowing what else to do, he then lunged, hoping to tug back what was his. To retain the bicycle, Freedom lost himself. Cold and melancholy, he now walks home, and as his sneakers dunk into an unseen pothole, he’s soaked in the regret of that decision. However, sneakers are the least of his concerns.

            Tear-ducts bursting, the child puts the clouds to shame, howling from the depths of his distraught heart. So many thoughts, yet Freedom can manage not a word.

            “Knock…Knock…Boom…Boom,” three times the sounds are heard, each more vivid than the last… until a final boom lands with brevity, shaking Serenity from slumber. Defiantly, the child tightens her eyes. Nevertheless, the dream has concluded.  Somewhat bothered, she staggers to her feet: upon wobbly knees, she stumbles to.