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Bad moon rising part two

Well it’s five o’clock in the morning and already I am up and about. It was a fitful night’s sleep, but the sun is up and the long nocturnal hours of darkness have slipped off their cloak of depression and receded to the other side of the world, no doubt to haunt some other lost soul who has his own story of horror to tell.

I have taken my vitals and my meds to get through the day. Breakfast is light, a slice of hot buttered toast and a glass of cold vegetable juice. It’s enough to fire up the motor and get me through at least until mid morning when I shall need to take a break. I take a quick hot shower just to freshen up and I’m ready to go, to go to the tale of horror that befell me and my family, to relive our battle with an external force running havoc through our lives, determined to destroy us all.

I sit at my desk and work like a man possessed by demons, and indeed that is exactly how I am, a broken man possessed by demons raking over his pain filled past. Suddenly I sense the heavy presence of the muse and feel inspired. I stop typing this sorry tale to scribble on a scrap of paper. Something deep within me was reaching down through the layers of my past and suddenly arrived at a happy place.

And every now and then, when I’m alone

I look around my world, everything I own.

A photograph of me, when I was young.

A smile upon my face, in my heart a song.

My heart beat like a drum, I had the sun in my face.

I had the moon and the stars help me find my place.

I was spontaneously trying to recapture the innocent joy and happiness of my childhood, but it was all too brief, in an instant it was gone as my adult past came crashing in to my thoughts and kicked my innocence far off out into space. A friend of mine long since passed once told me to only look for the good things, the bad things are the uninvited gatecrashers which come into our lives of their own free will to create mayhem. I should have listened to him. I snapped out of one flashback and went crashing into another.

“ Calum…” my wife called out to me “ I’m going, don’t forget to collect the kids from school. I’ll be home at the usual time. Byeeee.” And with that she was gone, off to work at the college for the day. By five she would be back, just in time for our evening meal all together as a family.

We were your average happy family, wife three young children aged five, seven and nine. They were both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because when they were all getting on it was a joy to behold. When they were fighting it was hell on earth. Either way, I loved them deeply all the same. I would have died for them, just like any normal parent. And that is what we were, just normal folk trying to get along, or so I thought.

At one o’clock I heard the letterbox flap open and close. The post was later than usual. I looked at the clock, it was time to take a break from writing anyway and have a spot of lunch. Little did I know that It was to be the last lunch I would have at peace with myself for quite some time. It was in fact the beginning of a total nightmare I was not prepared for and would struggle to get through with my mind intact. Indeed it would almost be the end of me.

WPO

Photograph courtesy of Jo Brazil.

Author, writer, Illumination Editor, Top Writer in short stories and poetry.

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