Hell Found Me
This story may depress...
Hell found me, looked me in the eye and took away everything. It didn't care; why should it? It was the temptation, it wasn't my fault. I only took the path my father had. That man, if only I had forgot what he did, what he was. I was at my Mother's; she had questioned me, I didn't understand at the time but she revealed something that I hadn't thought about before. Am I like my dad? It's more of a statement than a question, however somehow it led me to further reflection; I wanted to know where my dad disappeared to.
I was in my room at the time. Looking at my four walls like a bored teenager would, I saw the posters and the dents that I had made in anger and I heard a door slam. It wasn't much; I presumed my older sister was having one of her daily tantrums. She often did that. When I finally lifted my weak body off my bed and flung myself reluctantly down the stairs, I was shocked by the sight of my dear mother weeping in despair. "What," I groaned unsympathetically. My mother just turned her head to look away. I walked over and stood directly in front of her. "What!" I shouted obnoxiously. She ignored this. I was a monster then, I didn't care about anyone. Ironically no one actually cared about me. Even now no one does. "He's gone." She whispered so silently that I had to squint to hear it. "He's gone." She repeated. A lump went down my throat and I suddenly felt sick. He wasn't the sort of man how would come back from a decision like that. I wasn't really going to miss him; I don't know why I had felt like that.
It had been six years; god knows what had happened to him. I had been....well....praying. Never in my life would I have imagined myself praying. I thought it was for fools who had nothing else to do, but it actually helps in this odd sort of spiritual way. I'd pray about my dad, I'd pray that- well, I'd hope that he was alive.
I travelled far away, however I had no idea what so ever where my father was. It was your basic wild goose chase, but I was incredibly determined that nothing, not even commonsense would get in my way.I found this old, run-down factory in the middle of a field that I can describe briefly. It was so dark I couldn't possibly see much. I was tired and I was in a car and the road was so long I could see it ending any time soon. So I sped up so fast I wasn't even aware I was moving. Something happened. I hit something. To be precise, a boy. Didn't stop, wouldn't stop. A couple of miles up I pulled over and that's where I found the factory. Obviously I wasn't exactly expecting my dad to be in there, that was a long short, but I thought I could stay there for the night. I waddled over to it like a drunken pig, which to be honest I was. I pulled off the wood preventing my entrance and sat in the large cold room for what could have been days. I wasn't really conscious....
-To be continued-
I was in my room at the time. Looking at my four walls like a bored teenager would, I saw the posters and the dents that I had made in anger and I heard a door slam. It wasn't much; I presumed my older sister was having one of her daily tantrums. She often did that. When I finally lifted my weak body off my bed and flung myself reluctantly down the stairs, I was shocked by the sight of my dear mother weeping in despair. "What," I groaned unsympathetically. My mother just turned her head to look away. I walked over and stood directly in front of her. "What!" I shouted obnoxiously. She ignored this. I was a monster then, I didn't care about anyone. Ironically no one actually cared about me. Even now no one does. "He's gone." She whispered so silently that I had to squint to hear it. "He's gone." She repeated. A lump went down my throat and I suddenly felt sick. He wasn't the sort of man how would come back from a decision like that. I wasn't really going to miss him; I don't know why I had felt like that.
It had been six years; god knows what had happened to him. I had been....well....praying. Never in my life would I have imagined myself praying. I thought it was for fools who had nothing else to do, but it actually helps in this odd sort of spiritual way. I'd pray about my dad, I'd pray that- well, I'd hope that he was alive.
I travelled far away, however I had no idea what so ever where my father was. It was your basic wild goose chase, but I was incredibly determined that nothing, not even commonsense would get in my way.I found this old, run-down factory in the middle of a field that I can describe briefly. It was so dark I couldn't possibly see much. I was tired and I was in a car and the road was so long I could see it ending any time soon. So I sped up so fast I wasn't even aware I was moving. Something happened. I hit something. To be precise, a boy. Didn't stop, wouldn't stop. A couple of miles up I pulled over and that's where I found the factory. Obviously I wasn't exactly expecting my dad to be in there, that was a long short, but I thought I could stay there for the night. I waddled over to it like a drunken pig, which to be honest I was. I pulled off the wood preventing my entrance and sat in the large cold room for what could have been days. I wasn't really conscious....
-To be continued-
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