The Last Darling by Cloud Buchholz

previous projects, he started with the most frivolous element – the stairs. His designs were elegant, but extremely ambition. He began work that night and would continue working for the next three months. A wooden frame had been constructed and a system of levers and pulleys were in place so that one person could easily lift or lower materials without descending or ascending the tall and dangerous ladder. Francis had built a series of platforms that lead spirally to the top floor, but he had yet to attach them with stairs. His attention had been diverted to an even more frivolous project – a stained glass window. The window was not initially in his plans, but one afternoon when the generator went out and he was forced to work in darkness, he was suddenly struck by a desire for a large and intricate window that could capture and project the sun. His design involved mirrors, prisms, colored glass, and a variety of adhesives.
    He connected portions of the window on the ground and then carried the pieces up the ladder. He then laid on a wooden slat attached to ropes and began putting the window in place. His designs were exceptional; his execution, however, was sadly and irreparably flawed. In his haste, he failed to apply the proper amount of adhesive and a segment of glass became dislodged. It was not enough to ruin the window, or even enough of a blemish for Francis to notice; however, as he continually repositioned himself on the wooden slat, the glass silently cut into one of the ropes. If it had been any other day, he might have noticed, but that day he was especially distracted for it was young Leo Darling’s sixteenth birthday and Francis had forgotten to wrap his son’s gift, or even hide it. He felt a slight pinch of anxiety, uncertain if his son would mind.
    He began to think about what his son’s reaction might be, but he would never complete the thought for at that exact moment the rope snapped, sending his legs crashing into the window. Shards of glass, mirror, and metal sliced Francis’ face and legs while his arms frantically gripped the swinging wooden slat. He hung for a moment, completely helpless and very much afraid. A small amount of hope still clung to his heart giving him the faintest sense of safety, but it would be misleading for, out of his view, one of the glass shards had caught on a pulley. Just as Francis was taking a calm breath, a second rope snapped. He and the wooden slat fell as another set of boards were pulled into the air. Francis and the boards collided and swung in opposite directions – slamming into the unfinished platforms. The damage normally done by this kind of collision would be minimal; however, Francis had never completely hammered the planks into place so, when he stuck the platform, boards and nails slapped against his body and tore his skin. His arms lost their strength and he fell, headfirst, into the glass and metal. As the blood leaked out of his head and chest, he thought about Clover – how much he missed her and how it would be nice to see her one last time, then he died.
    Leo Darling returned from Vega’s lumber yard feeling particularly good. For his birthday, Vega had given him a large slab of stone and a set of tools to work it. He had already thought of several things he could carve, but he was so enveloped by the thought, he didn’t notice the framed photograph on the counter or the note lying next to it. He simply hurried to the stairwell where he knew his father would be working.
    He saw the blood and body. He had to take four more steps into the room before he could identify the face. It was his father.
    Leo Darling leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. He hugged his knees to his chest and stared into his father’s open eyes. He remained there the entire night and a good portion of the morning. He didn’t sleep or move or eat or cry. He was too startled and sad to even think.
    The death was not reported to the police until early that