Higher, Isaac shrieked.
So Abe threw his son higher. A dozen feet into the air. The boy stretched his neck to look beyond the farmhouse rooftop but he couldn’t quite see the dusty road that lay beyond. It was paramount that he could.
On their next attempt Isaac barely reached ten feet. They had been trying for too long. Abe was getting tired.
Maybe he should finally tell his son what this ‘game’ was all about. But he couldn’t break the boy’s heart. He just wiped the sweat from his tiny forehead.
Does it hurt, Isaac asked, pointing at the gangrene.
I’m fine, Abe lied.
They tried one final time. This time Isaac could just peek over the rooftop.
There’s a man with a white beard, he said. Who is that?
Someone I made a promise to, Abe replied. He comes to collect. And I’m afraid I cannot stop Him.
Did you enjoy this story? Then why not try the 101 stories in 300 words or less in YOU’RE GETTING SLEEPY, THE HYPNOTIST’S APPRENTICE YAWNED.