Little Brother - Greg

2 December 06
Prompt: It All Started When . . .

     My nine-year-old brother stood next to my bed in the middle of the night and began shaking me. I was dead asleep and when woke up, I tried to hit him in the dark. He easily stepped away, and waited while I roused to my senses.
      “Wake up!” he said in an insistent whisper.
      “What do you want?” I growled.
      “Shh. You have to see this.”
      “See what?!”
      “It’s outside. You have to see it.”
      I thought about going back to sleep, but he was so excited, and when he got like this, there was no stopping him. Plus, in my fogginess, I became curious. I rolled over and threw my feet out of bed. It was a California summer and the air was warm, even at this time of the night. I was 12 years old.
      “C’mon!” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me forward. I stood and jerked my arm away. Big brothers don’t like little ones leading them around. It isn’t natural. Still, I slowly followed him out the door into the dark hallway.
      We passed my parent's bedroom door and I could hear my father's dull snoring. We crept downstairs into the tile entryway. Poochie, our yellow dog, wagged her tail excitedly, her nails clicking on the tile. By brother shushed her, then slowly opened the front door.
      “This better be good,” I said.
      He said nothing, but quietly lead me across the front yard into the neighborhood street. The town was without traffic and utterly quiet, and the night looked and felt different that I’d ever seen it before.
      “Where are we going?” I said.
      “Just c’mon, he replied. “Just c’mon. . .”