I told him where I was going, and he hurried me out, pointing to the door with the gun, but what he didn’t know was…
that I’m a ghost from his past.
You see, we were once a couple. But after I died from a gunshot wound to the heart — the allegorical kind that breaks the hearts of mothers whose sons and daughters died during combat and never would come back to see the births of their first child, he became severely depressed.
No. It was the recent war in Afghanistan. He took with him the honor of defending his country but brought back with him the sorrow and anguish most war time veterans would never forget — the death of his fellow soldiers and innocent citizens.
Coupled with the depression, his schizoid mind from all the previous drug usage of marijuana created for him an alternate reality, where demons would come out through the walls, taking forms of hell dogs barking and growling menacingly, raving with angry, glowing red eyes and smelling of sulfur, like “El Diablo” himself as portrayed by a dictator by the name of Hugo Chavez of Venezuela.
His paranoia got so bad on night, he screamed aloud: “The CIA are after us! We have to put on these bullet proof vests! Hurry!”
That terrified the family and definitely scared the wife silly that she had to call the cops and threatened to take away her four sons away from him. But the oldest one defended his dad from the unloving mother: “You can’t do that to him!”
I am his ghost, haunting his present. Until he can get a grip with reality, get a job to put food on the table for his family, and move on with his life by forgiving all that he has done and seen, then he may once again know true freedom.
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Reference: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2011/09/16/write-a-story/
Write a story by finishing this sentence. The story can be as long or short as you wish.
I told him where I was going, and he hurried me out, pointing to the door with the gun, but what he didn’t know was…
Topic inspired by Jeannie Thompson.
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