He walked into the barn and could feel the color drain from his face like a sunset bleeding from the sky. He paused as if another step would bury him alive. He could remember back, years ago, to when his son had brought home his first fish and he showed him how to prepare it for cooking and how his son had cried when he cut the fish and how he had hugged him and explained the natural order of life.
And now, straight ahead, he saw his son dangling from a rope. His body, limp as a marionette without a puppeteer. Where had God gone? He thought. His son’s pale skin—nothingness.
He stepped forward and was buried alive.