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The unsuspecting martyr

The unsuspecting martyr

By Lancedean

Born and raised in a traditional catholic home, he seemed groomed to be a normal husband, father of a nuclear family. “till death do us part” wasn’t just another empty promise, like is haphazardly made by 75% of the selfish TV fed populous of the USA,
White wedding, one child, two children, work, home, chores, dinner, relax sleep, wake, work…..
One evening, exhausted from dutiful providing for his purpose in life, he encountered odd behavior by the love of his life, his angel, his soul mate, his reason for living.
Cursed computers-they bring so much, yet take more.
And the beast took.
That evening-He died, a death that would be slow, eating his inner being, like a leprosy that would eat his soul for the rest of his life, until the earth would finally devour his corporal body and let it rest in an ashen state.
His love would not die, and never will, yet it would be beaten with many stripes as he spoke with his beloved children, now relocated far beyond his physical reach. His tortured soul would weep at every insignificant contact with his lover, now in the arms of another man.
But, he remained vigilant, burying his feelings in a shallow grave, knowing this must be for the well being of his nuclear family.
To attempt to ease the pain, he sought another, a single mom, with a child who desperately needed a father. Here was redemption, he hoped.
The world is full of dysfunctional people, they are easy to find or even stumble upon.
If there was a god, why would he ever allow a drunk beat his little girl? And then let her have a child, alittle girl with no father---O why god?
He didn’t know her past, she didn’t tell him.
He tried to be, and was this little girls “daddy”
The plan seemed to work, for a while. Then like all bad thought out plans, a second attempt at trying to fulfill a supposed destiny crumbled.
Now homeless, jobless, and purposeless, the only thing to do was reflect.
The reflection of his face in a vodka bottle. The reflection of his face in the rear view mirror of his totaled car. The reflection of his face in the mirror at the tattoo parlor. His reflection in the rear view mirror of his Harley.
Where do I go? What do I do? My love has nowhere to go…..

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About This Story
15 Dec, 2011
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2 mins
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