The wind whistled around the old, rickety house. Boards creaked underneath his feet, and a draft stole through the room, sending shivers up his spine. Turning his head, he glanced out the window, where he saw nothing but darkness. Night had descended hours ago, and shadows danced along the walls, one lone lit candle giving light to the room.
Rain beat down on the old tin roof, rusted with age. The house had been in his family for years, built by his grandfather decades ago. He hated to think what would happen, should it be lost to him this night.
A door opened, then closed. He turned, facing the direction the sound had come from. He should be alone. No one else should be in the house. He’d made certain of it. Danger was too close, lurking only miles offshore.
The eerie sound of screaming wind whipped around the house again. He ignored it, his eyes on the entrance to the room. Perhaps his mind had been playing tricks on him, and no door had opened at all.
As much as he wished it to be true, that was not the case, for only moments later, his brother materialized in the doorway. I’ll kill him, he thought, before realizing they might both be dead before the end of the night.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. Angry as he was, the words came out sharp and rough.
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” His brother took several steps forward, before leaning lazily against the wall.
“It looks like you’re trying to get yourself killed.”
“Looks like we’re in the same boat then.”
“Yeah, and it’s sinking,” he bit out, his anger rising. His brother was too casual, too unaffected by the danger closing in on them.
“You should have known I wouldn’t go.” They stared each other down. “You need me.”
“I can handle this myself.”
“There’s 800 head of cattle out there. Are you crazy?”
“Mom knows where I’m at,” his brother argued.
“You’re determined to do this then?” he asked, the fight going out in him. “Despite the risks?” It was too late to turn back anyway.
“We’re brothers. You’re here, I’m here.”
“You do realize there’s a category four hurricane barreling right for us?”
His brother’s smile was grim. “All too well.”
He nodded. “Alright then. Care for a beer?”
— I found a writing prompt that said write a scene that ends with this sentence: (And then it listed a sentence and I decided I didn’t like that sentence and picked something super random on my own. — Care for a beer? — So, this is what we got! I wrote this in less than 30 minutes, so if it’s the worst thing you’ve ever read…. cut me a little slack. 😉 —