Saints of New Orleans
Day started like All the rest down here in Mississippi. Hot and muggy as soon as the daylight broke through the dark night. My little brother still asleep like usual, leaving me to make breakfast and do all the morning chores. He was 20 years my junior and I was pretty much the only father figure he had ever known. Ma and pa died of the scarlet fever not long after he was born. I was 26 and off fighting a war that I had no business in. As soon as I got my discharge papers I was on my way back home. That's where I found this ferrel little child with eyes like mine. He must have been born just after I left. It took some learning and several whippings to get him back into a form that resembles humanity. Sometimes I think that the whipping hurt me more than it did him. After a few years he had become a model child that others would base their thoughts of a good boy on. I can't imagine what he saw before I showed up.