Watching Football in Mom's Dress (Revised)

Controversy and opinions over Nature vs. Nurture has been the center of debates for years. There is an idea that suggests a person’s physical and behavioral traits can be determined relative to where and how one is raised vs. genetics and heredity. These debates brought up several topics some extreme, like Adolf Hitler. Was Hitler a product of genetics and born bad or was it his upbringing with an extremely demanding father? On the opposite side of the debates there is the topic of homosexuals. Is being gay something that you are born with or is how a child is raised that determines it? 

A child was born into a loving family with both a mother and a father and 2 older brothers. The family comes from a town that next to Sunday church is football. Dad was an old college football hero who married the head cheerleader. Their first two sons were larger than most the children and by the age of two years old were destined to follow their dad to football glory. Dad knew his old college buddy who was currently the college coach. Coach would scout out all the high school games to check the progress of the two brothers and would even make offers for them to play for him after graduations. Between the legendary dad and the prodigal sons everyone in town knew who they were and everyone envied them. Well almost all of them, there was the black sheep of the family that many forgot about or rarely associated with the family.       

This black sheep was the runt of the family and the youngest son. He was noticeably different that his brothers in that he was not built like a football player but more like a ballerina. By the age of two he was destined for nothing and by age four it was clear he would never follow in the steps of dad or become scouted by colleges for an athletic scholarship. By the age of four his whole life was football but there was never an interest for the game or even playing the game; despite dad’s incessant pushing of the game or the families shared passion of the game. Instead the four year old was more fascinated with mom’s Sunday dresses and countless numbers of different high heel shoes.

For the remaining fourteen years he would be confounded to that little town, he stayed quiet. As he got older he tried to force himself to enjoy the game his father loved so much. Trying to force bonding experiences and a love for the game he would find himself falling short as he could only fake an interest so long. His father never minded or judged and once told him it was ok he didn’t like football. His father always questioned and wondered about the runt but didn’t care, it was his son and that’s all that mattered. As he got older he continued to try and understand the game and those bonding experiences would transform into deep conversations discussed during the game about life, politics, science, or anything else he wanted to talk about. His father welcomed and enjoyed the talks, the talks that only those two would have watching the game.

Having the approval of his father at home was nothing like the real world or the school world. By the time he reached the age to go to public school he had developed differently than the other kids. His voice never deepened and always sounded like a little girl and his posture and walk seemed very feminine. Once in public schools starting at around the fourth grade he would notice whispers and pointing from the other kids. Whispers quickly evolved into hate speak yelled across the campus and pointing became more forceful in the form of punching and beatings. For most of his school life he was tortured and ridiculed for the way he looked, sounded, and walked. As each year passed the beating became worse and the hatred dripped from their lips. The only saving grace was as soon as he entered high school as a freshman his brothers were seniors. He had not asked for help from his brothers, but the brothers took it upon themselves to warn everyone to think twice before trying or saying anything; but they were seniors and would be gone the next year.

The last three years of school he quickly learned to adapt to the hatred and would eliminate most of the situations that would put him in a dangerous situation. He found himself studying for extra hours in the library and asking mom for rides home. He never focused on the hate and never feared it; his approach was to devote his time to a good education in hopes that he would get out of his home down. He studied for hours to ensure he knew everything he could about his classes and aced every single one of them. By the start of the last year his test scores were the best in the state and would attract a certain attention from the local media and was offered to join the mayor for a private dinner. All this attention brought full ride scholarships to a number of schools but also brought some unwanted attention. Two months before graduation a group of kids, fed up with the constant attention and show boating, which there was none of, and felt it was their duty to silence him.

He would arrive at an out of state college the following fall. He was excited to be there and away from that town that treated him so bad, that town who’s going away present was a missed graduation and 3 months in the hospital with a broken leg, broken ribs, and a face swollen to the point his eyes refused to open.  He was excited to be at a school that was accepting of all people, which encouraged different to stand out and be themselves.  He was excited to be at a place he could finally come out and feel safe about loving a man.

The events of his home town departure soon became a distant nightmare that he rarely thought about. He focused on the then and his future. He maintained his studies and great scores; but also he started to discover something he never had before, a social life. He found the perfect balance of study and friends. He no longer had to hide in the library; he had free range to anywhere and everywhere. He socialized with peers that valued him for his thoughts and ideas, for his laugh and smile, for the person he was. He had even discovered love, he found someone he could love and even better, loved him back. College was the place he had yearned for, it was the place sitting in front of the TV on Sundays talking football with dad, and it was acceptance, a place of belonging.

During those next four years he had become a completely different person, he became the person he always wanted to be and knew he was. He had taken my class along with many others over the years and without a doubt aced each and every one of them. For four years he maintained his full ride scholarship, straight A’s, found love, and found happiness. His hard work had finally paid off and there was no limit to what he could do. His whole family had flown in to see the graduation and support their son and their brother. He noticed each of their faces as he accepted his diploma and saw nothing but love and support. With his father, he even noticed a tear roll down the side of his face. After graduation he flew home with the family to spend the summer with them, until he was able to start his new job in the fall.

Back home he noticed a lot had changed in four years but that one thing that would never change was the football. That first night back they had gone to the local steak house to celebrate. For hours the family talked, reminisced and shared plans for the future. Shocked and surprised one of the brothers announced a marriage proposal and that she had said yes, the other described a huge promotion he just got. Happiness had filled the room with all the good announcements being shared; caught up in the “breaking news” theme that was being displayed the newly graduate stood up and wanted to make an announcement. He stood up straight and looked at each person as they sat there silently waiting for the announcement. He took a drink of his water, and then said it:

 “I’m gay.”

Blank stares filled the room as his family looked at him. Sweating and becoming more nervous he slowly sat back down looking and waiting for someone to say something.

“Hey little bro, we already knew that.”

Taken aback and almost falling backwards out of his chair he watched as the whole family busted into laughter.

Dad added, “We all knew that already.”

Confused he looks at his father. His father continues, “We knew since you were four when you insisted on wearing mom’s dresses and shoes.”

Laughter filled the room and as more and more stories began to come out about how they knew. The laughter got to a point that it even leaked out into the rest of the restaurant. Eventually the waiter came to them and advised their closing up. As the family slowly left the restaurant they exchanged a few hugs and pleasantries and plans were made to continue the party back at the house. The brothers piled into the car and took responsibility to get mom and dad home while the youngest son agreed to take the other car home. Before they left his father called for him and stepped out of the car. When he approached dad pulled him close and hugged him tight and whispered, “I have always loved you and accepted you. I’m proud to be your father.” 

On the way home he was following his brothers when they caught a yellow light and he got stopped on the red. Waiting for the light to change he relived and thought about the last few hours and what is father had said.  On the way home he was following his brothers when they caught a yellow light and he got stopped on the red. Waiting for the light to change he relived and thought about the last few hours and what is father had said.  He thought about how happy he was to know that he is and always had been accepted. He always knew he was loved but now knowing the extent of his family love and acceptance he finally achieved everything he wanted in life. Almost dazing off in deep thought he never noticed that the light had turned green and was snapped back to reality from a blaring horn from the car behind him.

Back in reality he focused on the green light and was about to continue his ride back to his childhood home when a series of crashes, bangs and broken glass startled him. Slamming his foot on the break and putting the car in park he wanted to investigate the noise. Before he could open the car door or look behind him shattered glass seemed to have exploded in his face. Stunned and disorientated he felt hands slide underneath his arms and with a violent pull he was lifted and pulled from the car window and thrown to the ground. Still trying to process what’s happening he tried to filter through the pain and the last few seconds to grasp the new reality. Sharp pains fill his sides, face and head being to ache in a way that he had only experienced once before in his life. Struggling to free himself from the pain he rolls to the left and then to the right. With each roll and when the light shined just right he was able to get a vague view of the new reality he was living.

Frightened and in pain he began to process the vague images trying to make sense of what was happening. Time seemed to slow down as his mind went into overdrive to analyze everything. He focused on the images he stole as he rolled around and within his mind cleaned up those images to reveal the truth. He soon realized that he had caught the images of three men standing above him. Something about those faces struck a chord with him but couldn’t figure out why. His mind working faster and faster, time had all but stopped. Trying to place the faces he recalls a group of men from the restaurant sitting at the bar. He remembered because he caught them staring over at him throughout the evening. Not thinking much of it at the time he still had a thought that the looked familiar. Traveling back in time within his mind he rewound his life trying to remember everyone he had ever met or had contact with. Senior year nothing, junior year nothing, sophomore year still nothing, even into his first year in college and there was still nothing. Fear began to fill his body and flow through every fiber of his being as he continued traveling backwards.  The moment he placed each of the faces fear took over everything and time sped up to reality and at that exact moment darkness filled his eyes.

The next morning, having been sitting at the kitchen table phased out for several hours now, I watched the football family rise from their sleep and each stumbled downstairs to the kitchen. Greeting each other and exchanging pleasantries they asked each other about their night’s sleep, at which time dad expressed a horrible night sleep; he advised he would keep waking up and that he tossed and turned the whole night. After a few minutes the whole family was downstairs, when dad noticed someone was missing. Calling out his name to wake up he was responded to with silence. His stomach began to ach and knot up; his calls continued, each one sounding more desperate for an answer. He stood up and panic filled his voice as he began to scream, the family stared confused as the panic screams turned to pleading. “PLEASE WAKE UP!” Still there was no answer; tears filled his eyes as he drops to his knees and began to sob.

The accepted son that always knew who he was and now knows he was always accepted by his family never made it the six blocks home. Six blocks away from home was an abandoned car sitting alone at the intersection surrounded by broken glass and blood. Six blocks from there was a dirt road that lead to an abandoned farm house where just a few hours prior stood three men whom once upon a time were stripped of all scholarships opportunities, expelled from high school, and who’s futures would result to nothing. Their hatred for someone different took over and they would gang up on a kid that hung out in the library and beat him so bad that he would miss his own graduation. Filled with rage from having their lives stripped away four years earlier they sought revenge.

The three men saw the cause for all their problems enter a steak house. They waiting patiently for their opportunity and when separated from the car he was following the three men found their opening. Breaking the windows to his car and dragging him into the street they began kicking furiously. Watching him struggle the three continued their assault in the street until one of them pulled a bat from the cab of their truck and struck the beaten man in the head. Unconscious, they dragged the limp body to the truck and drove to the abandon farm house. There they sat quietly on the back of the truck waiting for bleeding man to awaken. Once awake they pushed him to the ground and surrounded him, each wildings a bat. Their assault picked up where they left off in the street and continued for almost an hour. That morning as each of the men tried to scrub their blood stained skin clean, the body was found; the only way to have identified the body was through a photo ID left in the back pocket. 

Motivation Found on a Dusty Shelf (Revised)

            Writing has been a tool people have used for centuries to communicate ideals and philosophy that they themselves have learned, developed, and used during the course of their life in hopes to inspire others to adopt and follow. These writings range from topics of religion, Do-it-Yourself, Self-Help, cooking, and several others; but the story behind the writing, I find is more interesting.

A child could grow up in an upper middle class loving family, good home, parents with a good job, and all the love and support in the world from mom and dad.  Mom is head of the PTA at the local elementary school and dad is the cool dad; coach of the little league softball team.  Anyone looking in on this child would see nothing wrong and would consider him lucky to have such a good home life. What about all the things not seen on the surface? What about the dark little secrets each person and family carries with them? It is typical that things that look too good or perfect… aren’t.

Good old PTA mom uses the position as a status symbol, an envy of all the other mothers, the leader of the pack. Tackling the big issues that affect our school; like, school uniforms, the cafeteria menu, what play to put on in the spring, or the annual bake sale. Any pleads from her son about bigger serious issues go unheard and brushed aside.  Seeking comfort and validation form dad he soon finds himself alone; cut from his own dads little league team. The only comfort comes from a pep talk given at the end of the try-outs when he gives the same rehearsed speech, “It was a close one this year and you just barely missed it. Keep practicing and come back next year, I’m sure you will be ready then.”

Ignored by the two people that are supposed to love and support him, he finds himself alone. Over weight he is tortured and tormented by the school kids and teased relentlessly. Sent home constantly bruised and in tears he tried to tell his parents about the troubles, but he was shot down and told to exercise more, quit eating so much, and boys will be boys. His day was guided by fear and he would spend hours in the library until dark and would take the long way home in the hopes to avoid all of the neighborhood kids. Overtime he read a lot of books about anything and everything, mostly in the self-help section; his favorites were books about overcoming adversity and anything motivational. Within those stacks he would make a vow to himself to fix his problem and help others do the same.

For the remainder of his years at home and through high school the beatings would subside but the teasing would continue. The stresses of his home and school life made it difficult to lose weight. No matter what he did the weight loss seemed to plateau and he was never able to reach a socially acceptable weight. Trying to remain focused on his vow and dream of helping people he would continue reading anything he could on how to motivate people and even volunteered for the Peer Counseling Team and Teen-Line. He had found solace in being able to help his fellow students with problems that he himself shared. He did this all four years of high school and had granted him scholarships that would allow him to leave his parents and attend an out of state college.  

Once in college and away from the negativity of his parents he developed a stronger drive to lose the weight; to practice the message he would one day soon give. He took several weight lifting and nutrition classes on top of his major in communications and public speaking. He took on more classes than his advisers suggested but never fell behind his studies and stuck to the strict diet and workout schedule he developed. Every time he looked in the mirror he saw the weight loss and he grew more and more confident. That confidence was the main source of all his drive. That drive hurled him ahead to put him one semester away from graduating a year early; all his goals achieved but one… to have his book done before graduation.

During his last semester he dropped most of his electives he was taking and really focused on the completion of the book. To maintain an “active student” status he kept two easy classes and picked up a creative writing class; he felt that it would help him become a better writer and was easier enough that he didn’t have to take a lot of time away from his motivational/self-help book. During that last semester that was exactly what he did; he would do the bare minimum to get my assignments in and really pounded away at that book. Everyday pages upon pages of writing would fill his notebook. The ideas and concepts poured from his head, sometimes almost faster than he could write. But every thought, every word he wanted was captured and nothing was ever lost; like he had devoted years of hiding in libraries and countless tears to memorize the entire contents of the book he wanted to write. 

His book would be finished within days of the end of the semester. Totally exhausted but excited that his book was done he took the last few days to relax, wind down and prepared for his last finals. He took my final with no distractions and for the first time seemed excited to be in my class and excited about the final. On the last day of class he had come to me and apologized for his distance and being preoccupied during the semester. I comforted him in that I understood and that the purpose of the class was to write and reminded that the final is the only thing really there for a grade. Before he left my class that last day he had stopped and asked for permission to use some of my ideas in his book to help with some exercises used to create goals and set up his idea of the ideal mind set. I was puzzled at first by the request but after a few minutes I granted him the permission and wished him luck with his book.

A few weeks after that last day of school I had phased myself out and followed him around for a while. I was surprised to see that he was meeting with a publicist and discussing an upcoming tour. What had happened was that after class ended he moved as  fast has he did the three years of college and quickly found a publisher and a publicist that loved his book. His publicist was as excited as he was about his book shared similar feelings that they were on the verge of the next big craze. Not wanting to lose any momentum the two quickly worked together to set up a series of book tours and signings, to help get the book out there in circulation, that would follow a small run of seminars he would be hosted at some of the top companies in the country in front of hundreds of people.

The idea was that he would do the five to six seminars with limited copies of the book but will provide preorder options that would give those companies a two week advance copy of the book before the book signing tour began. The hope was that they would create a buzz in the corporate world as well as the inner circles of friends and family of the hundreds that attended the seminars. This route was taken to get his name and face out there so that when the books did hit the selves that people were familiar or at least had an idea of who he was.

On the eve of his first seminar, he began to prepare as he was the key speaker for 600 plus business men and executives the following morning after breakfast. The company had rented out an entire hotel with a large conference space to host the event. He double checked his presentation slides and note cards and assured himself that everything would go great. The next morning as hundreds of well-fed men piled into the conference space one could already hear the buzz going around about the upcoming presentation and excitement became to fill the room. The presentation was to begin promptly at 9:30am and at 9:35am as a straggler snuck in trying not to disturb the presentation he noticed that the presentation hadn’t started and the once positive buzz quickly turned to restlessness.

As of today the book is currently on book shelves around the country but unfortunately those shelves are still in the book stores. The book was released as scheduled but there was no booking signing, there was no buzz, there was nothing. The morning of the seminar, in the sold out hotel, with men buzzing about the next best motivational movement there was a prep room on the side of the stage where the founder and creater sat and waited for his time to go. I was there watching as he centered himself and counted down the last few minutes to the moment he worked so hard for. As the final seconds approached and he walked towards the door, I watch as his eyes closed and he fell to the floor. I claimed another one. In the official reports it states that he had a coronary episode from a pre-existing condition that had developed from his being overweight as a child.

 

Q&A Post for Soul Collector

I just want to give a quick thanks to everyone who has viewed this blog and are following the story of Nameless-The Forgotten and a huge thank you to everyone who posted a comment. I hope this will shed some light on me and this story.

Q: Don’t you feel you are limiting you audience with this subject matter? What audience are you hoping to attract?

By: Lenore Sansbury-

A: Yes, but only at first. I understand that on the surface the subject matter is a little dark and without knowing the storyline it can be off putting; but I’m hoping that those that do take the time to read it will understand and embrace the art within the writing and storytelling that they move beyond the literal to see the beauty. As for my target audience, I’m going for a “word of mouth” approach to build my audience. Within the last few years books and stories have become trendy (Harry Potter, Twilight, and Shades of Gray) and looking to fall into one of those trends. Not saying my writing is the best but believe there is something special here; it just needs its chance.

Q: Are the characters based on any people in real life, or completely random ideas?

By: Soteria E

A: The characters right now are just random ideas and thoughts that I have. I have this process/outline that I fill out with very brief details, traits, and characteristics. From there I begin to write and find my “creative center,” I begin to imagine that persons face, height, weight, hair color; I create that person giving them dreams, wants, feelings, emotion… life.

If you have been following the story since the beginning you would have noticed that the blog description changed, it use to suggest that readers could email be there information and I would write a story about them. I have since changed/abandoned that idea and am focusing on creating life. But not opposed to receiving emails and writing your story.   

Q: What made you think of such a dark theme? Isn't the concept a little morbid?

By: Michael Desmarais

A: The idea originally came while I was working on a separate novel idea and ran into writers block. I had a million ideas coming but no idea/direction for the novel. Taking some advice I heard on a podcast (Nooner- SModcast Network) I shelved the novel for now and picked up a new project, Soul Collector. I don’t really know what direction I was going with it so I just started writing stories. Soon I realized that this blog and these stories will be my way of growing my skills as a writer. Also, I want to use these stories to test and push the boundaries of my writing ability and take me on a journey outside my comfort zone; I want to evoke an emotion when people read these, I want to find and write from a place I never been, I want to be vulnerable.

I don’t really feel that these stories are morbid. These stories are about telling a story about a living, breathing person and celebrating their life. Everyone dies and when they do we gather to exchange stories, laugh and cry and pay tribute to a life lived. Yes some of my stories are sad and seem messed up, morbid even; but open a newspaper or turn on the news and try not to find a story that’s not worse than mine, you can’t. They're filled with stories of hate, despair and sadness.

Rarely do they tell us personal details of that person outside the cause of death or circumstance leading to their death. My stories respect each person’s life and treat them as a person and not just some story. Argue if you want that they are just made up stories; but is there really a difference between my stories and those the media tells you to read of people you don’t know?

I look forward to hearing any of your feedback and hope you continue to follow this story. My only request is that you give me and this story a chance and I guarantee I will surprise you.

I Killed the Radio Star (Revised)

It’s not every day that I had a celebrities join my class. I was approached by the principal when he had informed me that there had been a donation made to the school but there was a slight catch. After listening to the principal for a few minutes I soon learned that I had the honor of teaching a major TV personality for an episode of their hit TV show. The donation was made in hopes that the school would be willing to allow the show to film a few episodes at the school, mainly the class room, for a contest that they were running that tied into the TV show. The idea intrigued me; I never collected a famous person’s soul. I agreed but under the one very strict stipulation that I am not interviewed or filmed.

It was 2 weeks into the summer session when I arrive at the school and was greeted by hundreds of boys and girls. It was utter chaos with screaming fans everywhere. I got out of the car and noticed a small camera crew hanging out in there van preparing to shot for the show. From the parking lot there was yellow tape blocking out and sectioning a walk way to the class room. I grabbed my bag, locked the car door, and started to walk to the classroom. As I unlocked the door to the classroom I was startled by shrieking coming from the parking lot. I turned and saw a car pull in; I thought to myself that couldn’t possibly be the star of the show. I mean it was a regular car and only one man go out, but if not the star why are they all freaking out.

As I stared a little longer the man walked from the car to the yellow tap and he began to shake hands, sign autographs and even saw a few photo ops. I began to question my previous assumption and drew a new conclusion that it was in fact the star of the show. Baffled and thunderstruck I just stood there and marveled at that man. He walked with his head held high proud, and confident, but radiated humbleness. I expected him to be like all the other A-Listers, too good for everyone else, too important to be bothered by pictures and autographs, and too damn lazy to drive themselves in some $100,000 environmentally hazardous beast of a car. But this guy was different, he was genuinely thankful for each of his fans support. He finishes with the crowd and meets me at the door; he introduces himself and asks a favor if it was ok to talk to me a little before the shot to get to know me. This man was a freak, no one is that nice.

I granted his request and we talked for a while, until class was to start. He led an interesting and very fulfilling life. He was married to a beautiful woman and had 2 teenage daughters; the picture in his wallet seemed almost fake; like he took it out of one of those new frames you buy at the store with that “too perfect” of a picture, but in his case it was legit. He opened up about his childhood and the parents that raised him. He talked a lot about his brothers, family trips and his father. Stories of his father fascinated me; they were filled with moral stories, tough but fair discipline, saint-like values, and love. As he talked it became clear how and why he was the man he was.

He also explained why he was taking my class. His fame reach beyond just TV, he was also a very popular and successful radio personality. I forget the name of the show but on their weekly segment him and 4 other friends would sit around and just talk. One of his friends liked to make up games and contests. The newest contest was a friendly competition. The newest contest would be filmed for the TV show and it would be a friendly competition between sister radio show within the station. It was decathlon with events ranging from eating contests, cooking challenge, “Are you smarter that a radio star”, and a few other ridiculous games. This challenge was to see if my TV/Radio star can get a better grade in creative writing that some joker can in home eke.

The class continued for the remaining 3 weeks of the summer session, although they were only shooting for the week to get enough for the show; but he continued to come to class each day and finished my course. His writing was nothing spectacular but was still enjoyable to read. The last day of class he had thanked me and expressed a deep gratitude for the work that I do and told me that if it was anyone else teaching the class he wouldn’t have come back for those last 2 weeks… the 2 weeks that ended in him participating in the final paper.  

During the nine months that followed, the TV show took off and the contest 2-part episodes were the highest ratings the network had ever seen, even beating out a top rated fantasy thriller. Unfortunately his team didn’t win and the sister show reigned supreme as the better radio show. The highlights from the contest were that the one guy failed his school experience and set fire to half the kitchen. My guy ended up in a cooking contest and blew away the completion beating out 2 professional chefs brought in as ringers. There was also a touching episode where the group got together and bought an entire 3rd grade class all iPads. At the end of the season reports confirmed a signing for a guaranteed renewal for 4 more seasons of the hit TV show. Oddly enough and against all the critics, the show was nominated for an Emmy, unfortunately they didn’t win.

The success of the show had spawned good new outside of radio and television show. Following the huge win in the cooking challenge he was contacted by a restaurateur and offered him a head chef job at a new local restaurant due to open within a few weeks. He was given carte blanche to do as he wished with the menu and the direction of the restaurant.

The night before the grand opening of the restaurant there was a friends and family party to celebrate all their success. The night was filled with love and LOTS of food. I sat in the back and watched  as everyone in attendance were laughing as each person took turns to reminisce about their favorite stories of the past. The party ran all night and well into the early morning. Just as the sun was peaking over the horizon the last of the hugs and goodbyes were handed out as everyone went their separate ways. Eventually there was only an Emmy nominated- high priced head chef of the hottest new restaurant-radio star-son-brother-father-husband and his wife left. The loving married couple entered the restaurant to clean up and get ready for the grand opening. While they were clearing the tables a bell chimes, signaling the opening of a door that wasn’t locked. The stranger that entered was greeted with a smile, but no smile was returned. Quickly the smile turned to sadness and fear. The stranger had revealed a gun and while continue to walk slowly to the couple his arm with gun in hand rising. Whether it was primal instinct or just an overpowering love for his family and wife; he pushed his wife into a nearby booth to shield her and then he rushed the stranger. Two shots were fired but he continued his pursuit. Two more shots echo through the empty restaurant. He finally reached the stranger and tackled him to the ground. He wrapped his hands around the neck of the shooting stranger’s and grabbed on tight. The two rolled around as the stranger struggled to get away but as each second passes the fight began to calm and within a minute the two laid there, both lying very still.

When the police arrived on scene they were met with a crying woman in a booth and two motionless bodies. Coroner’s office confirmed the cause of death for the gunman was strangulation. As for the other body it was a bit of a mystery. He had died from a fatal gunshot, but the mystery wasn’t disputing he was shot, but that he was struck 4 times in the chest, two in which pierced his heart. The two shots to the heart would have killed him instantly. So how was he able to rush to the gunman, tackle him, choke him, and roll around? It was like was a super hero.

The widow in her grief backed up the kids and moved to an unknown location; the kids and widow are now living full lives. The restaurant never opened as it was not able to recover from the tragedy and no longer had a head chef. The contracts for the renewal of the TV Show were voided as it was signed with a cast of 4 not 3. His friends never worked in TV again and within a year the radio station closed down and the show never aired again and their mics were hung up.

 

Upcoming Q&A Post for Soul Collector

First off, I would like to thank you for reading this blog and following the story of Nameless-The Forgotten.



I would like to offer you an opportunity to ask me questions about anything you want. (me, individual story, why, what's next, how, etc.) Please post your questions or thoughts into the "Post Comments" box blow each post or email me at Loveless.Sebastian@gmail.com and I will compile them into a future post for all to see.

Show your support and I will post your First Q&A by Sunday, August 12, 2012.

A Ring so Beautiful it will Bring Tears to Your Eyes (Revised)

            

There are a number of reasons why people write; sometimes it’s a coping mechanism to get them through the day or to grasp the realities of their lives, an outlet to get bottled up feeling out into the universe. There was a student, a young woman that attended my class under the strong recommendation of her therapist. Some kind of traumatic experience happened and after a few years of countless sessions it was suggested that she find an outlet to express herself.

                The young woman seemed normal enough, nothing really stood out so I was a little baffled at why there was such a strong recommendation to take a writing class. That was until I began reading some of her writings. It was a sad story about her family and the events of the last few years. But as the class continued I witnessed huge strides in personality and confidence. Throughout the year he writings even became more cheerful with an underlining feeling of acceptance. I think a large part of that was a reconnection to an old friend that soon developed into more. She began to smile more, less jumpy, nervous, and wary of people. She didn’t just reconnect with an old friend but also with civilization and humanity.

                Shortly after the semester ended her relationship progressed to the next step and she got married to the man that recently rejoined her life. I had attended their wedding, at least not in the physical form, and it was a small but lovely very intimate set up. It was just the two of them, the priest, and 2 of her closest friends. There was something very sweet and rewarding to see that moment in time knowing that she has had so much hard ship in the past. I would check in on her from time to time to see how she was and for months she was legitimately happy and finally living her life.       

                On the night that would be her last I phased out into her room to witness the final hour. When I arrived the newlyweds had been fighting. Some kind of argument had broken out and the two were screaming at each other. Before it could escalate to something physical she had enough mind to walk away and she had stormed out of the room and ran to the bedroom. There she frantically grabbed a bag from the closet and started to fill it with clothes. As they continued to scream at each other she lost focus with what she was doing and started clearing out his drawer. He quickly but not aggressively rushed her and asked her to stop, as if trying to protect a surprise or secret. From his drawer fell a box and as it hit the ground the most beautiful ring had fallen out. Both became speechless and the house quieted to nothing, both stood there frozen, eyes lock as a tear rolled down her cheek. 

                                                                                               ***

Some five years previous the young woman was working late one night at the local grocery store. Tired and exhausted from the mandatory overtime for inventory she left the grocery store as she had a hundred times before. When she arrived home she noticed that the front door was slightly opened and became irritated that her little brother again couldn’t shut the door correctly. As she approached the door she saw that the door wasn’t just open but looked like it was kicked in. Her heart began to race as she continued inside the house.

Once inside the house she saw that the in table was turned over, a potted plant had spilled across the floor, and broken glass everywhere. Realizing something was wrong she rushed up stairs. She yelled for her mom or dad, but there was no answer. Terror and fear filled her voice and she yelled and pleaded to have someone answer her. Before she reaches the top of the stairs an odor filled the air. She sees picture that had fallen off the walls many of them trampled upon. When she gets to the top she screamed in horror and dropped to her knees. Tears flowed from her face as she sees what that strange odor was.

She saw her father on the hallway face down and was illuminating from a hall night light she could tell he was covered in blood. She slowly crawled to him hesitating to reach him; he can’t be dead if she doesn’t confirm it, “he’s just hurt. He will be alright,” The fear that he was dead doesn’t exist if it’s not confirmed. When she reaches him she reaches for his neck and could fill no pulse and her heart drops. Sobbing she remembers mom, rises to her feet, and runs to their bedroom. From the door she knows there was no reason to continue as she sees the shadowy outline of a person in the bed surrounded in the crimson soaked moonlight. She fell again to her knees again crying fighting to keep the images out of her head.

The police arrived moments later responding to 911 calls from neighbors about some screaming that they heard. The police would spend the next several weeks investigating the incident trying to find any clue to whoever did this. After weeks of forensic tests and questions of a dozen people nothing had come up. There was hope that there was a break in the case 6 days into the investigation when a letter was received from the killer. The killer had written a more or less apology letter. The letter expressed remorse that the events of that night unfolded as they did and explained they were just needed some cash for a problem and had the man of the house just let him take what he wanted it never would have become what it was. The police thought that they had their break in the case but while exhausting every resource and perusing every angle and lead the case soon became cold. At the end of the investigation it was deemed a cold case and was classified as a robbery gone wrong.

Disappointed with the local police and their inability to find any answers to the viscous slaying of her family, she quickly fell into a depression. Seeking help from grief counselors and a therapist she would spend the next 5 years coping with this tragedy. After countless hours of counseling and therapy sessions she would eventually be able to live alone, be out after dark, and trust people again. She would even take the advice of her therapist and enroll into school; the idea was to rejoin society now that she has started to cope with her loss and it would be the first steps into gain her life back. During that first year back she did just that, she reconnected with friends, interacted and socialized with others, learned she had a wonderful skill in writing, and even found a husband. She moved beyond the misery of losing her family and had found the start of a new family.

                                                                                   *** 

From his drawer fell a box and as it hit the ground the most beautiful ring had fallen out. Both became speechless and the house quieted to nothing, both stood there frozen, eyes locked as a tear rolled down her cheek. She bent down to look at the ring; it was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared trying to feel out her reaction. Still bent over she slowly lifted her head to look at her husband. He tried to speak but there was nothing.

Slowly she stood up and still looking at him gives a look of confusion. His eyes saddened.

 “I can explain…” he began.

“Why do you have my grandmother’s ring?” she asked.

All he could do was repeat, “I can explain, I can explain. Please listen and give me a chance to explain.”

Her face quickly changed to horror, and she began screaming. Panic stricken her loving husband tackled her to the bed and she continued to scream. Trying to quiet and calm her down he covers her mouth to silence the screams and whispers again, “I can explain.”

                Terror and disgust filled her eyes as she struggled to break free. She bit down on his hand, drawing blood; in pain he removed his hand only to let out the screams of a woman who knows the truth. Continuing to panic and fear of being bit again he placed his hands around her neck; doing anything he could to quiet her. The struggle continued for a short moment; both of their eyes filled with tear, one was with sadness for a lost family and the other filled with fear and remorse. Still whispering for her to stop and listen to him, her body soon stopped struggling. As he wiped the tears from his eyes he had thought she was ready to listen. With the tears freed from his face he stared down at her and slowly with head held low I stood and walked out.