

Night had settled over the neighbourhood yet the air grew restless. Our old townhouses sort of sang to themselves—strange creaks and rattling noises in a ragged rhythm. Most people slept through it or chose not to hear except me.
I lay awake, staring at the patched cardboard ceiling of the small room I shared with my brother, Cedric. It bowed outward under the weight of ancient planks above as if the whole roof might give way at any moment.
This was the third night Cedric had disappeared for hours only to return just before dawn. It was easy for him to slip out as the house was never still. The pipes clanged without warning and the wooden stairs groaning steadily as though ghosts tread on them through the night.
I waited for him and right on cue, the door opened soundlessly. He stepped in, cloaked in black soot and grime like he had been dragged through a chimney or pulled out from a coal-black pit. He took off his shirt and froze when he saw me.
“Jeremy,” he whispered, his eyes wide. “Erm…you should be asleep.”
I sat upright. “Where have you been?”
He looked down at his blackened trousers and tugged them off. “Erm...you know, around. I couldn't sleep. You should go back to sleep. You have school in the morning.” He said hastily, climbed into his bed and turned his back.
It was a patent lie and he knew I knew it. His breathing turned even quickly and then soft snores followed.
When I went to the kitchen for breakfast in the morning, mama stood, smiling from ear to ear. “Look my dear chap, fresh groceries,” she said, ruffling my hair. I had just combed it!
“How?” I asked, frowning while smoothing it with my fingers.
She shrugged. “The good Lord must have sent a kind soul to drop them off. This will feed us for a week. Sit down, let me fix you something warm.”
Just then, Cedric appeared in the doorway. “Morning, mama. I'm off to work.”
“Hey, won't you stay for breakfast?” She called after him but he was gone. He didn't so much as glance my way but I saw the soot still beneath his nails.

I hope you enjoyed reading this Dicken's style short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "patent lie".
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