"Alastor! Come in now, supper is getting cold!"

Alastor perked up at the sound of his mother's voice. He abandoned his toys in the front yard and ran in the house. He took in a deep breath and smelled something very familiar and mouth watering.

"Mama, are you making Jambalaya?" Alastor questioned as he made his way over to the sink to wash his hands. He stepped up on his footstool to be able to reach the soap and sink. His mother was in front of the stove, stirring her food in her Ole Faithful Gumbo pot.

"Sure am! Why dontcha get your father and tell him supper is ready?" Alastor's face fell at the request. He wasn't a fan of speaking to his father because he seemed to always be mad. Especially when he would come home smelling like alcohol. Alastor drug his feet to the living room to see his father sitting in his chair, reading his paper. His father sported short brown hair with deep chocolate brown eyes to match. Strong jawline and a straight nose. He was skinnier than most but he was stronger than he looked. Alastor and his mother had the bruises to prove it.

"Sir?" Alastor said just above a whisper, picking at a hangnail. His father craned his neck to look at his son. The malice in his eyes was enough to make Alastor cut his eyes to the hard wood floor.

"What is it boy?" He said, his voice like gravel.

"Mama said supper is done." Alastor jumped slightly when the lanky man abruptly shot up from his seat. Alastor didn't dare move until he walked past him. The last time Alastor walked in front of his father he shoved him into the wall.

"Are you waiting on a formal invitation? Come on." He tapped Alastor's shoulder just hard enough to make him walk behind him. The young boy looked up at the towering man and felt his blood run cold. He really hoped he was in a good mood today.

When they both made it back to the kitchen, supper had been served on plates and lemonade poured into three glasses. His mother stood with her hands behind her back, no doubt wringing a dish rag nervously. Alastor had observed his mother enough to know when she was uneasy. Her smile would twitch in one corner, she would keep her hands busy, or even fake a cough to try and cut the silence. She wore an apron that had all kinds of stains on them, badges of honor for the delicious dinner she had made. Alastor couldn't help but marvel at her. She had light brown hair with light strands of gray streaking through. Green eyes that would put spring grass to shame and a smile that could bring the dead back to life. She was the prettiest woman Alastor ever saw.

"Well if it isn't my two favorite men." She mused, mostly looking at Alastor. He grinned ear to ear as he took a seat. His father sat down roughly, his wooden chair making a scratching sound on the hardwood.

"Finally some of your good ole' jambalaya. Good work Cecile." He mumbled as he began to hork spoonful's of the food into his mouth. Alastor watched her take a seat slowly, waiting for her to take a bite before he did. Once she took a spoonful, Alastor began to feast. He couldn't contain the sounds as he relished the flavors. The spice of the sausage and the earthy taste from the veggies mixed together in such a way it reminded him of jazz music. The flavors danced on his tongue and it made him borderline wiggle his butt in his chair.

"I take it you like it, honey?" His mother commented, her heart swelled as she watched her son fill his stomach.

"I love it! You're the best cook in the world mama!" Alastor said in between bites.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, boy." His father pointed his fork at him which made Alastor quickly swallow his half chewed bite.

"Yes sir." Alastor said as he wiped his mouth.

"August, he was just excited about the food. He's ok." She placed a dainty hand on top of her husbands to try and level with him. Alastor knew though that there was no leveling with him.

"I don't give a rats ass what he was excited about! No son of mine is going to eat like a fucking monkey!" Cecile and Alastor both flinched at his raised voice. No one said another word for the rest of dinner.

Alastor was in his room listening to his jazz music on the radio when he heard a gentle rap on his door. He turned to see his mother stand in the door.

"Time for bed, my little Beignet." She said sweetly. Alastor groaned in protest.

"Just a little longer, mama!" He sat criss cross in his floor with the radio to his left. Cecile bent down and picked Alastor up, carrying him to bed.

"Now now, you'll have all the time in the world tomorrow to listen to that radio some more." She giggled as she tucked him in. "I swear you and that radio are harder to separate than jam from a biscuit."

"I gotta do my chores first or Daddys gonna get mad." Alastor grumbled, knowing that he was going to wake up to a mile long list of chores to do. His mother's smile faded just a little.

"Well it'll make the music that much sweeter." She poked his nose gently which made him giggle. She stared at his face for a bit long and Alastor had an odd feeling something was wrong.

"Is everything alright, mama?" Cecile let her smile grow larger as to not worry her son.

"Everything's peachy keen, sweetie." She tucked a piece of his brown hair behind his ear. "You know I love you more than anything, right pumpkin?" Alastor beamed at her.

"I know. I love you too, mama!"

"Promise me something?" Alastor nodded. "Promise me that you'll never lose that sweet smile of yours."

"I promise, mama."

Cecile smiled as she bent forward and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"I'll see you in the morning." She got up and walked over to the door. She turned back to get another look at Alastor's face. A wide smile was plastered on his face as she flicked off the light and closed the door.

Alastor didn't know that it would be the last time he would see his mother alive.