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    dots Submission Name: The Sins of the Father (Monologue chapter 3)dots

    Author: rws
    ASL Info:    58/m/ohio
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 2779/1297/258
    Words: 471
    Class/Type: Prose/Misc
    Total Views: 1426
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2844

       ~much darker in some ways than the previous section~

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsThe Sins of the Father (Monologue chapter 3)dots

    Uncle Leandro

    No, it didn’t work out with the guy I liked. He wasn’t very nice…or very mature. And, no I can’t tell every boy you’ll tear off their arms and beat them if they mistreat me. I appreciate the thought, but I can handle myself. Besides, I know you could never hurt anyone.

    By the way, when are you ever going to get married? Don’t you get lonely? Mom gets lonely…she cries at night when she thinks I’m asleep. The only time she ever laughs is when you visit us. I think you should come over more often and stay longer.

    How about forever?

    Love you bunches
    Your Yasmine


    Sorry I missed your call, Stevie. Long time no here.

    I’m surprised…really.

    Bobby died seven week ago. Six was his ‘magic’ number, so I guess he outlived the magic. And yes, he died in a room he rented outside of town.

    Of starvation and dehydration and multiple…lacerations.

    All self-inflicted. That part is true.

    As for the rest…he wanted to be a good man, a good husband and a good father, more than anyone could imagine. But success terrified him, public or private adulation terrified him. Love frightened him.

    I always wanted to…save him, rescue him, maybe. But he refused the help. He wanted to be his own best angel, I suppose. When he laughed, when he spoke of family, when he paused to enjoy pleasures without sweating over some nagging indebtedness, that’s when he was most himself. The rest…

    When we were kids, he’d draw characters in the margins of his favorite stories, like…I don’t know angels, I suppose… something to protect what he cared about. I don’t expect you to understand any of this, but even the blessings of imaginary friends can seem better than nothing. It’s a kid’s wish that…makes up for what isn’t there.

    It takes a long time to realize some wishes can’t be granted…

    He found salvation in ritual; checking under the beds, behind doors, in dark corners trying to soothe the beast or convince himself eternal vigilance would create good karma. I don’t believe he even realized he cast out the good with the bad. He was too determined to be perfect. And then he died, slowly, from the inside out, naked, friendless and alone.

    Sometimes I think ritual is the last comfort before madness.

    Sorry for being so honest, but it couldn’t be helped.

    Good to hear you were able to decompress on the beach and collect your thoughts.

    As for how I’ve been, what do you think?

    Now, I have a previous engagement with a young lady that simply can’t be ignored.


    Submitted on 2007-05-10 15:39:52     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      when i first began to read this, i was automatically hooked to finish it. i love the whole 'ripping their arms out and beating them' any girl i would imagine could read that and make them think of some sort of line that someone said to them about boys....i have 2 girls that aren't even at the age of dating but me and daddy have already said our little 'rip their arms out and then beat them with their own hands lol

    It takes a long time to realize some wishes can’t be granted…

    and when that time does finally come when you suddenly realize, it can be such a hard pill to swallow...there are some dreams and wishes that i still hold onto, that logically i know will probably never happen...but if you dont have dreams, then you have nothing.

    i think you did a wonderful job...i may have to go check out chapters one and two soon.

    take care
    | Posted on 2007-05-11 00:00:00 | by MmR | [ Reply to This ]

    i think i read the first part?
    but i have read the second.
    this is stunning.
    for a million reasons.
    most of which i cannot tell you.

    i love yasmines letter.
    the whole "i cant tell boys you'll rip their arms off if they hurt me" thng is great.
    before i left for ethiopia and the rest of the world my dad said "if any boy even LOOKS at you ill rip his eyes out! and dig his spleen out with a spoon and feed it to him!" haha so i really appreciate that part.

    the part about mother crying when she thinks yasmine is asleep is heartbreaking.
    when i was 11 (and i know you are not asking for my life story by posting this piece but i feel somehow compelled to deliever it all the same) i moved in with my mother and her husband. they always waited until i was sposed to be asleep to fight. i would lie in bed paralysed by pain (which was caused by the tremendous fear that something would happen to my mother) listening to them fight. then, when my mother left him, i would hear her crying at night when i was sposed to be asleep. in the day time she was so very strong. but i knew. and i couldnt work out how to fix everything. it seems to me that yasmine has worked out EXACTLY how to fix everything and is going about executing the plan accordingly.

    Bobby died seven week ago. Six was his ‘magic’ number, so I guess he outlived the magic. And yes, he died in a room he rented outside of town.

    this is THE most amazing thing i have read in who knows how long. really. wow.
    out lived the magic... stunning.

    i think you have attained monologue status in my mind with this piece. it reads so well and i just sigh and think how much it sounds like something Angelo could have written (which means you are damn amazing right here!!)
    i cannot work out whether this is read or heard though it works both ways.
    the second one seems to be a phone conversation and the way you have put the gaps in between lines/ideas is really effective in creating that idea.

    seriously stunning.
    i like the way you have built up the hopelessness of his situation. the causes leading to death. right since childhood. the obsession with purity and the throwing out of the good while cleaning oneself from the bad.
    the angels and wanting to be his own angel.
    the need to save him even though he didnt want or in his eyes need saving.
    you have created this so well...
    maybe too well.

    it makes me sad.
    | Posted on 2007-05-10 00:00:00 | by Someones Epiphany | [ Reply to This ]

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