Reading
The Son
Horacio Quiroga
It is a hot summer day in the town. The sun is strong, and the air is calm. The father is happy.
“Be careful, little one,” he says to his son.
He puts some bullets in his pockets and picks up his shotgun.
“Be back by lunchtime,” the father says.
“Yes, Dad,” the boy repeats.
The boy smiles, kisses his father, and leaves.
The father watches him for a moment. He feels proud. His son is only thirteen, but he knows how to handle a gun and understands danger.
The boy enters the forest and his father smiles. The father is a widower. His son is his reason to live. Suddenly, he hears a gunshot in the distance.
“He’s already hunting,” the father thinks and continues working.
At noon, the father checks the time. A deep fear grows in his heart.
The father decides to enter the forest. He looks everywhere and starts to call his son’s name.
“Little one!” he cries but there is no answer.
He walks faster. Then, suddenly, his son appears from a side path.
The boy sees his father’s face and runs toward him.
“There you are…” the father says and sits on the ground.
The boy touches his father’s head.
“Poor Dad,” the boy says.
Later, they walk home together. They walk in silence. The father puts his arm around his son’s shoulders. He is tired, but happy. The father smiles, but he is alone. His arm rests on empty air. Behind him, near a fence, his son is on the ground. He is not alive.