Ghostly Guardian: A Tale of Friendship and Fear by Timothy L. Drobnick Sr

Author:Timothy L. Drobnick Sr. [Drobnick, Timothy L. Sr.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Thrillers, Supernatural
Google: G__TEAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Timothy L. Drobnick Sr.
Published: 2023-08-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter fourteen

One day I saw my father talking to two men through our wooden screen front door.

“Who are those men, Tim?” Sheena asked. Her voice whispered like the wind.

“They’re barbers from the White Barbershop, one Dad and I clean every night,” I said. My eyes were glued to the scene unfolding outside.

As the conversation continued, I noticed my father’s patience waning. His clenched fists and tensed jaw signaled his frustration. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed back into the house, leaving the two barbers standing awkwardly on the pavement.

“I told them to shove it,” my father muttered to my mother in the kitchen, his voice laced with irritation. I slipped into the kitchen, curiosity getting the better of me. The barbers, it seemed, had accused me of stealing a $50 bill. I felt a chill run down my spine. My father’s steadfast belief in my innocence had led him to sever our connection with the barbershop.

The accusations were painful because they could harm our family’s honesty and money. The guilt that washed over me was suffocating, even though I knew I was innocent.

The following day, I found myself in the same position on the couch. The two barbers returned, their demeanors a stark contrast to the previous day’s accusatory stance. My father went out to meet them, their pleading voices just audible through the open door.

“They found the $50 bill,” my father relayed to me after their departure, a bitter triumph tingeing his voice. “They’ve apologized, Tim, and they want us back.”

The hope that flickered in my chest was quickly extinguished when he added, “But we’re not going back. They accused you, and that’s something I won’t forgive.”

My spectral guide laid a comforting hand on my shoulder, her dark eyes gleaming with pride. “Your father is a man of honor, Tim. Remember this.”

Those two barbers didn’t stop there. For the next couple of weeks, they’d make regular appearances at our door. Each time their insistence growing, their pleas ringing hollow to my father’s ears. Their attitudes had changed from that initial confrontation, and it was clear their desperation was mounting. Their apologies echoed again and again, promises to rectify the situation and assurances that it wouldn’t happen again.

“Dad, do they want us to go back to the shop?” I asked. It was evening and we sat on our porch, the setting sun casting a warm glow over our quiet street.

My father, his face etched with lines of thought, turned to me, “Yes, Tim, they want us back. They said they’ve been having a hard time finding reliable help.”

“And what do you want?” I asked. The thought of returning to that barbershop left a sour taste in my mouth.

“They’ve slandered us, Tim,” he said. His voice was slow and quiet. “They doubted our integrity. I can’t go back to that.”

I looked at my father, his gaze fixed on the setting sun, his jaw set in determination. I then closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “We don’t owe them anything, Dad.

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