Hello my name is not Duncan, but for now, it will do, I was sitting at my desk writing my tale about my sweet little pebbles, my childhood dog a miniature schnauzer
“They told me she was sick, that once they took her to the vet that I would never see her again, I spent the whole day with her, I was able to feed her anything she and I wanted; we played with all her toys but mostly I spent the whole day holding her, I was going to lose my only friend. My uncle told me that she was going to be sent to a farm, a special one for dogs, where she would be happy always and I should be happy for her because she was no longer going to be in pain. I spent that first night crying myself to sleep then and then again the next night and again once more, I stopped because one night I felt a cold nose on my face followed by doggie kisses, a new puppy, no it was pebbles her tail was wagging so happy to see me, she must have gotten better so I thought, it was the only explanation my youthful mind could think of. Though I was upset at my parents it was kinda mean to not tell me, but I was so happy she was back.”
I stopped in mid-sentence, a thought just popped in my head, you know the kind that will just stay with you no matter how hard you try and shake it loose. I realized that in my last tale I had mentioned that my life was saved by one from the natural world (the world of spirits and such) this, of course, was a story for another time right, sigh, nope no matter how hard I tried to go back to writing about my little Pebbles... no such luck from then on all I could think of were those blue eyes and whom they belonged to. This is a tale of how I owe my life to one that was not among the living.
Before I start I want to say in my youthful days I believed that people are indeed good that everyone can change that who we were will not be the people we grow up to be; and to be honest I am happy to say that I am mostly right, but since you are reading this that I am not completely right or I would not have a story to tell, as I said before every world has its jerks; and these jerks were out for my blood. (as said in hat man)
Let me paint you a picture of my life at this time, I was living large I was young and had moved to the big city from my tiny town, I had just finished my first year of A. Cooper community colleague, I was taking the arts and sciences; I was a top grade student, I had money in my pocket, my first job, a local pizza place just fifteen minutes from where I was living, and you should have seen where I was living, in this old fashioned home I swear four floors, me and each of my cool building mates nearly had our own floor, (about three to a floor, I had only had one other on my floor) the best part, I was head over heels in love with my floor mate and he many times told me the same thing, David the love of my life, he was my soul mate and I didn’t care who knew it, for the first time in my life I was not scared of people finding out, nor was I ashamed that I was in love with another man, as long as David was standing by my side I could take on the world and I wanted to make this statement as loud and clear as I can. And I knew how.
The parade was becoming more acceptable as time went on, it had its detractors and a few jerks that showed up but nothing horrible I mean I lived in a country where something as who feel in love with who was no bother to anyone, so I had thought.
This was going to be my moment this was my time as I marched forward I would be walking out of the closet, I was feeling tall, feeling proud. I took great pride with every footstep I took, I felt free, I felt free to take cover as a beer can whiz past my head I heard “Hey look, look I was right, little Dunken Balls is a fag, I called it.” I knew that voice, it belonged to a jerk in high school name Drake back then it was his life’s mission to make my life a living hell getting his friends involved in the fun was icing on the cake for him, one time they chained me naked to the girls locker room door, writing words faggot, freak, and so on. When I turned my head to confirm it was them, I found myself ducking another beer can “The fag can move I will give him that” Another beer can was lobbed at me, looking at them I was not angry, I kinda felt sorry for them, they were still wearing our high school football team jackets, none of them were good enough to get scholarship though they were some of the schools best. It’s sad to see people like them stuck in high school. I quickly dodge another can some of it striking me putting me off my balance, where these cans still full, the last can hit me on the side of my face confirming it, sending me crumbling down to the ground, (what a waste of beer).
The world was spinning around me no one was helping me, why; someone please help me I couldn’t look up at them, I was frozen in fear and pain, all I could hear was their laughter. And then drakes voice saying “Now on the count of three all at once,” I thought I was going to die as I heard him count down, then silence, had someone stopped them, had someone come to my rescue, this was confirmed by a booming deep voice like thunder .“What the fuck do you think you’re doing” I recognized that voice, belonging to Marcus the nearly seven-foot star running back, err defensive tackle er tight end? (sorry, I don’t know anything about the art of sport) of our high school football team, the Perseus high Gorgon Slayers. I was very great full but a bit confused he was one of those who tormented me back in the day “Leave him alone. He had to put up with our bullshit through high school he does not need it now.” He aggressively moved towards them, I could see why anyone who found himself with the ball would have to fight hard not to wet themselves at his approach
“Today he has taken a lot of courage for him to do, what he is doing. What he does not need are little pricks, who think they’re still in high school, acting the part now run along and PISS OFF” This got everyone’s attention not just those who were marching, not Those who came to cheer or protest, but those of the media whom came for one story and were now getting another, A story of a bully was wetting himself (right down his pant leg) as one of the top pro prospects was chasing him and his friends off.
You figured nothing but good could have come from this, it didn’t (it was a different time) my hero lost his scholarship for doing the right thing, he was able to find another college to accept him, and there is a chance because of his stance he might not be able to go pro. As for me, David left me, he was still in the closet, and he was not ready to come out, and just the fact I was marching openly made him scared that people might figure it out. The man that made me feel strong, that I could be bulletproof, had left me because people would know that he loved me. As for my tormentors, this was not the last time I saw them, they made sure of it, somehow they figured out where I worked, where I lived, who were my friends and family; sending out letters telling everyone, outing me. As for my days at work they spent those days harassing me, the customers, and doing the odd bit of property damage when my boss found out the reasons why they were doing this. Did he call the cops, did he chase them off, no; he fired me. Saying “I’m sorry, but customers bring their children here and with your lifestyle choice, I have to think of their safety you have to go but I want you to know that I will pray for your soul with the hopes you will find you way to Jesus and he will help you move away from this sinful life, you have chosen” All I wanted to do at that moment was to head home, put my head under my pillow and scream, the worse was finally done and over with, so I thought. When I got home I found my belongings, left outside sitting on the sidewalk, with a sign on my now broken desk that read “We don’t live with fags, fag off” I looked up at the window to see David looking down at me, not saying anything, this was not a fight I wanted to fight, I was broken, I had no job, no home, what I had that was not stolen, was broken. What hurt worse was seeing David watch me walk away, wiping away me tears, this was the last time I saw David. Expecting more bad to come my way, I made a plan. I figured I would take the money that I had saved up and use it on a cheap motel good enough to last me a few months if I really stretched it, and the rest I would use to Drown my Sorrows at the Bottom of a Bottle, it was the name of the local pub, but it was good advice, before I could get to my third drink (or was it my fifth) I heard, that deep voice “That bad huh” it was Marcus, it took everything I had not to break down crying when I told him everything that happened. He did not look all too pleased. We spent the rest of the day drinking when I worked up the courage to thank him but asking him, as well as aking why he stood up for me, becaue of our our shared past with me being his door mat back in the day. He sighed and explained “High school was not all too long ago, I wish it was, but I can’t look back and not feel shame, you see my father was my hero back in his day he would be the first one to stand up for anyone being preyed upon, nothing made him sicker than a bully I saw that in his eyes when he talked about it, the way he looked at me when a teacher informed him what I was doing to you.” He paused “I never felt so small, pathetic, weak in my life, seeing him look at me like that, and he was right. I didn’t know how to make things right, so I simply left you alone back then and when I saw you again and… well, this time, I was going to be the man my father would have been proud of." He smilled poudly "As for going pro I don’t care if I do or not. My grades are strong enough I can do more than chase a ball around, I want to follow in my father’s footsteps ” That was really cool of him, he even called me out when I told him I was staying at friends place, he knew I was lying, he offered me a spare room at his place, he even went as far as to help me get a job at his uncles used car lot,
Marcus walked me to his, or to our place, on the way there we passed an old graveyard, I would have to pass it every day on my way to work and on the way back. I noted that Marcus was looking everywhere but at it. I turned my head to get a better look at, an end of the century graveyard I could barely see in, I could just see cold outlines standing before a group of gravestones, shadows without people. They seemed to be moving towards me I looked away quickly, looking back at Marcus and then back into the graveyard expecting them to be gone, they were not, the best I could do or think of doing was to weakly wave hello. I looked back to Marcus “You looked into the graveyard didn’t you, don’t look into the graveyard” There was something in his voice a sadness.
You know in any horror story when the main character is perfectly safe and things are finally are going the main characters way, the audience knows different but all they can do is wait until the other shoe drops unable to tell that character to run. I was that main character. Things were going to get worse. But at the time I was once more employed, I had a new housemate that knew about me and didn’t care. And the worse thing in my life at the moment was having to pass a haunted graveyard every day on my way to and from work, not the worst thing ever, as each day I could not help but glimpse into the graveyard to see the outlines and like every day I would wave and at times shout hello. Not trying to be a jerk, but I thought there was no need to be rude either. I did note at times before I would wave they seemed angry, their movements were frantic, sharp as they stood before their gravestones Again these could just be mourners angry at the loss of their loved ones. The other shoe finally dropped, it happened on my way home from work “Hey it’s the fag wonder of the world” Oh fuck a duck it was them. “We have been looking for you fag boy” they had found me it was bad enough that they went out of their way to turn my happy life upside down now that they seemed all too ready to do it again. Maybe it was just bad luck on my part, I was able to lose them, hoping to never see them again but next Friday on the way home “Dunken balls” the voice sung out “Were going to make you pay, you fagot” They were holding a grudge against me for what happened at the parade, Drake did wet self on tv after all. With each day I saw them, it was harder and hard to lose them; I knew once I got home I would be safe. They followed me right to my door once, only to leave running for dear life as Marcus charged out after them. The only problem was getting home to safety. They were getting as good me of knowing the area, we all knew it like the back of our hands, not good for me I was out numbered. Which means I would only have one place to run to where we would be on equal footing the old graveyard; on my day off I paid a visit, I slipped in without anyone noticing me, I needed to know my way around if I were to use it to escape. The last thing I wanted was to get lost when running for my life. I spent hours walking around in circles memorizing every crack every turn, The biggest landmarks were the little memorials, built into the yard each one built for privacy for anyone coming to visit. As I made my way around I felt a cold finger running down the back of my neck, whispers; many voices were not talking to me, but about me to each other, they did not seem all to happy. I think I might have outstayed my welcome, On my way out I noted that someone had placed flowers at one of the tombstones, but it seemed as if someone had torn them up I noted that any and all memorials to loved ones had been destroyed. That bothered me a little, but I had my escape route all planned out no need to ever come back unless I need to right? Nope, all week the feelings I had about those flowers seemed to stay with me, so my next day off I paid another visit to the cemetery because I did not overstay my visit the last time. I bought as many flowers as I could visiting each tombstone that had a destroyed memorial. I tried my best to quick fix anything that could be salvaged placing them back where they should have been and then adding a flower to it “Excuse me, may I ask what you are doing” I nearly jumped out of my skin, (don’t laugh I’ve seen it happen) a man standing in what I think was a military uniform or a police uniform I’m not sure I don’t really recognize it, My first thought was oh great now I’m going to get arrested for trespassing, I didn’t want to be smart ass but the first thing that pops out of my mouth “um placing flowers, heh heh” He had such pale brown eyes. “Do you know my Lilly,” He asked. His voice, a tad fragile as if it was hard to speak. Fear of being arrested turned to a feeling of... feeling like a jerk, looking at the grave I just placed flowers on, Lilly Adams resting place for a loving mother and wife “No sir, I don’t but the last time I was here” I looked to the ones I had yet to place flowers on “It just seemed like the right thing to do” The uniformed man's eyes followed mine and then back to the flowers in my hands “White lilies” He chuckled “She will love them, thank you” For the rest of the week I felt like an idiot preparing for something that seemed like was not going to happen, I thought they had forgotten about me, and for that one week I was not happy but I was no longer miserable I was recovering. Then that day, that one day, I was walking home from work when I heard “Hey drunken” I spin around their he was walking towards me, I look at his friends are halfway between me and any escape. Leaving only the graveyard the last place I wanted to go, I had no choice the asshole picked up a bottle from the ground, a wicked a smile on his face, this was more than a beating he was planning on giving me… They laughed as I made my way into the cemetery, They weren’t really chasing me but simply taking their time, I was scared (an understatement to say the least) I was tripping over myself, barely able to pick myself up again and then falling over again, Without thinking I leapt over a hedge hoping to jump out of site, I landed on my face, I bit down on my lip to keep myself screaming out in shock, as my nose oozed out blood. I sat up hugging the hedge “Please don’t see me, please don’t see me” I kept saying over and over. When I looked up to see Mr. Adams sitting in his uniform with his hands on his lap, I had fallen into a memorial for fallen police officers, several tombstones lined up. First I interrupted his thoughts to his wife now it seems I am trampling on his moment of silence for his fallen friends what a guy I turned out to be “ I am sorry sir, to interrupt you in a time like this I have nothing but respect for you and your friends, but please can I stay here a bit longer, please” It was easy to hear the fear in my voice, and the voices that caused it I could hear their voices “Hey faaaagit… faaaaaagit were going to beat you, until you like it, Then you are dead” One of them laughed out loud “Coming here was a bad idea this place belongs to me and my boys” Drake boasted , that could explain the damaged memorials for the loved ones I found and fixed (as best as I could) Mr. Adams seemed to hear it but didn’t really move, he looked at me, for a few seconds, smiled at me he motioned with his eyes to another opening, his lips held a gentle smile and he motioned me to run. I did as I was told. I took off looking behind me to see him walking towards them what I also noticed on one of the gravestones was the name... Adams.
After that day I was never attacked or ever saw them again, (No one did) I managed to get back home, Marcus was reading, he saw how pale I was, I told him everything, as I was talking a mile away, someone walked in, to see if everything was all right one of Marcus’s friends, his name was Tom, a cop at the time. As I described the uniform, Tom told me that was an old police uniform, I stopped talking my eyes went wide as I saw what was looking back at me, The eyes of Mr. Adams from a picture, he was wearing his uniform, it was from a newspaper it read Memorial for hero cop. The caption under the picture read as seen here with his wife Lilly.
“They told me she was sick, that once they took her to the vet that I would never see her again, I spent the whole day with her, I was able to feed her anything she and I wanted; we played with all her toys but mostly I spent the whole day holding her, I was going to lose my only friend. My uncle told me that she was going to be sent to a farm, a special one for dogs, where she would be happy always and I should be happy for her because she was no longer going to be in pain. I spent that first night crying myself to sleep then and then again the next night and again once more, I stopped because one night I felt a cold nose on my face followed by doggie kisses, a new puppy, no it was pebbles her tail was wagging so happy to see me, she must have gotten better so I thought, it was the only explanation my youthful mind could think of. Though I was upset at my parents it was kinda mean to not tell me, but I was so happy she was back.”
I stopped in mid-sentence, a thought just popped in my head, you know the kind that will just stay with you no matter how hard you try and shake it loose. I realized that in my last tale I had mentioned that my life was saved by one from the natural world (the world of spirits and such) this, of course, was a story for another time right, sigh, nope no matter how hard I tried to go back to writing about my little Pebbles... no such luck from then on all I could think of were those blue eyes and whom they belonged to. This is a tale of how I owe my life to one that was not among the living.
Before I start I want to say in my youthful days I believed that people are indeed good that everyone can change that who we were will not be the people we grow up to be; and to be honest I am happy to say that I am mostly right, but since you are reading this that I am not completely right or I would not have a story to tell, as I said before every world has its jerks; and these jerks were out for my blood. (as said in hat man)
Let me paint you a picture of my life at this time, I was living large I was young and had moved to the big city from my tiny town, I had just finished my first year of A. Cooper community colleague, I was taking the arts and sciences; I was a top grade student, I had money in my pocket, my first job, a local pizza place just fifteen minutes from where I was living, and you should have seen where I was living, in this old fashioned home I swear four floors, me and each of my cool building mates nearly had our own floor, (about three to a floor, I had only had one other on my floor) the best part, I was head over heels in love with my floor mate and he many times told me the same thing, David the love of my life, he was my soul mate and I didn’t care who knew it, for the first time in my life I was not scared of people finding out, nor was I ashamed that I was in love with another man, as long as David was standing by my side I could take on the world and I wanted to make this statement as loud and clear as I can. And I knew how.
The parade was becoming more acceptable as time went on, it had its detractors and a few jerks that showed up but nothing horrible I mean I lived in a country where something as who feel in love with who was no bother to anyone, so I had thought.
This was going to be my moment this was my time as I marched forward I would be walking out of the closet, I was feeling tall, feeling proud. I took great pride with every footstep I took, I felt free, I felt free to take cover as a beer can whiz past my head I heard “Hey look, look I was right, little Dunken Balls is a fag, I called it.” I knew that voice, it belonged to a jerk in high school name Drake back then it was his life’s mission to make my life a living hell getting his friends involved in the fun was icing on the cake for him, one time they chained me naked to the girls locker room door, writing words faggot, freak, and so on. When I turned my head to confirm it was them, I found myself ducking another beer can “The fag can move I will give him that” Another beer can was lobbed at me, looking at them I was not angry, I kinda felt sorry for them, they were still wearing our high school football team jackets, none of them were good enough to get scholarship though they were some of the schools best. It’s sad to see people like them stuck in high school. I quickly dodge another can some of it striking me putting me off my balance, where these cans still full, the last can hit me on the side of my face confirming it, sending me crumbling down to the ground, (what a waste of beer).
The world was spinning around me no one was helping me, why; someone please help me I couldn’t look up at them, I was frozen in fear and pain, all I could hear was their laughter. And then drakes voice saying “Now on the count of three all at once,” I thought I was going to die as I heard him count down, then silence, had someone stopped them, had someone come to my rescue, this was confirmed by a booming deep voice like thunder .“What the fuck do you think you’re doing” I recognized that voice, belonging to Marcus the nearly seven-foot star running back, err defensive tackle er tight end? (sorry, I don’t know anything about the art of sport) of our high school football team, the Perseus high Gorgon Slayers. I was very great full but a bit confused he was one of those who tormented me back in the day “Leave him alone. He had to put up with our bullshit through high school he does not need it now.” He aggressively moved towards them, I could see why anyone who found himself with the ball would have to fight hard not to wet themselves at his approach
“Today he has taken a lot of courage for him to do, what he is doing. What he does not need are little pricks, who think they’re still in high school, acting the part now run along and PISS OFF” This got everyone’s attention not just those who were marching, not Those who came to cheer or protest, but those of the media whom came for one story and were now getting another, A story of a bully was wetting himself (right down his pant leg) as one of the top pro prospects was chasing him and his friends off.
You figured nothing but good could have come from this, it didn’t (it was a different time) my hero lost his scholarship for doing the right thing, he was able to find another college to accept him, and there is a chance because of his stance he might not be able to go pro. As for me, David left me, he was still in the closet, and he was not ready to come out, and just the fact I was marching openly made him scared that people might figure it out. The man that made me feel strong, that I could be bulletproof, had left me because people would know that he loved me. As for my tormentors, this was not the last time I saw them, they made sure of it, somehow they figured out where I worked, where I lived, who were my friends and family; sending out letters telling everyone, outing me. As for my days at work they spent those days harassing me, the customers, and doing the odd bit of property damage when my boss found out the reasons why they were doing this. Did he call the cops, did he chase them off, no; he fired me. Saying “I’m sorry, but customers bring their children here and with your lifestyle choice, I have to think of their safety you have to go but I want you to know that I will pray for your soul with the hopes you will find you way to Jesus and he will help you move away from this sinful life, you have chosen” All I wanted to do at that moment was to head home, put my head under my pillow and scream, the worse was finally done and over with, so I thought. When I got home I found my belongings, left outside sitting on the sidewalk, with a sign on my now broken desk that read “We don’t live with fags, fag off” I looked up at the window to see David looking down at me, not saying anything, this was not a fight I wanted to fight, I was broken, I had no job, no home, what I had that was not stolen, was broken. What hurt worse was seeing David watch me walk away, wiping away me tears, this was the last time I saw David. Expecting more bad to come my way, I made a plan. I figured I would take the money that I had saved up and use it on a cheap motel good enough to last me a few months if I really stretched it, and the rest I would use to Drown my Sorrows at the Bottom of a Bottle, it was the name of the local pub, but it was good advice, before I could get to my third drink (or was it my fifth) I heard, that deep voice “That bad huh” it was Marcus, it took everything I had not to break down crying when I told him everything that happened. He did not look all too pleased. We spent the rest of the day drinking when I worked up the courage to thank him but asking him, as well as aking why he stood up for me, becaue of our our shared past with me being his door mat back in the day. He sighed and explained “High school was not all too long ago, I wish it was, but I can’t look back and not feel shame, you see my father was my hero back in his day he would be the first one to stand up for anyone being preyed upon, nothing made him sicker than a bully I saw that in his eyes when he talked about it, the way he looked at me when a teacher informed him what I was doing to you.” He paused “I never felt so small, pathetic, weak in my life, seeing him look at me like that, and he was right. I didn’t know how to make things right, so I simply left you alone back then and when I saw you again and… well, this time, I was going to be the man my father would have been proud of." He smilled poudly "As for going pro I don’t care if I do or not. My grades are strong enough I can do more than chase a ball around, I want to follow in my father’s footsteps ” That was really cool of him, he even called me out when I told him I was staying at friends place, he knew I was lying, he offered me a spare room at his place, he even went as far as to help me get a job at his uncles used car lot,
Marcus walked me to his, or to our place, on the way there we passed an old graveyard, I would have to pass it every day on my way to work and on the way back. I noted that Marcus was looking everywhere but at it. I turned my head to get a better look at, an end of the century graveyard I could barely see in, I could just see cold outlines standing before a group of gravestones, shadows without people. They seemed to be moving towards me I looked away quickly, looking back at Marcus and then back into the graveyard expecting them to be gone, they were not, the best I could do or think of doing was to weakly wave hello. I looked back to Marcus “You looked into the graveyard didn’t you, don’t look into the graveyard” There was something in his voice a sadness.
You know in any horror story when the main character is perfectly safe and things are finally are going the main characters way, the audience knows different but all they can do is wait until the other shoe drops unable to tell that character to run. I was that main character. Things were going to get worse. But at the time I was once more employed, I had a new housemate that knew about me and didn’t care. And the worse thing in my life at the moment was having to pass a haunted graveyard every day on my way to and from work, not the worst thing ever, as each day I could not help but glimpse into the graveyard to see the outlines and like every day I would wave and at times shout hello. Not trying to be a jerk, but I thought there was no need to be rude either. I did note at times before I would wave they seemed angry, their movements were frantic, sharp as they stood before their gravestones Again these could just be mourners angry at the loss of their loved ones. The other shoe finally dropped, it happened on my way home from work “Hey it’s the fag wonder of the world” Oh fuck a duck it was them. “We have been looking for you fag boy” they had found me it was bad enough that they went out of their way to turn my happy life upside down now that they seemed all too ready to do it again. Maybe it was just bad luck on my part, I was able to lose them, hoping to never see them again but next Friday on the way home “Dunken balls” the voice sung out “Were going to make you pay, you fagot” They were holding a grudge against me for what happened at the parade, Drake did wet self on tv after all. With each day I saw them, it was harder and hard to lose them; I knew once I got home I would be safe. They followed me right to my door once, only to leave running for dear life as Marcus charged out after them. The only problem was getting home to safety. They were getting as good me of knowing the area, we all knew it like the back of our hands, not good for me I was out numbered. Which means I would only have one place to run to where we would be on equal footing the old graveyard; on my day off I paid a visit, I slipped in without anyone noticing me, I needed to know my way around if I were to use it to escape. The last thing I wanted was to get lost when running for my life. I spent hours walking around in circles memorizing every crack every turn, The biggest landmarks were the little memorials, built into the yard each one built for privacy for anyone coming to visit. As I made my way around I felt a cold finger running down the back of my neck, whispers; many voices were not talking to me, but about me to each other, they did not seem all to happy. I think I might have outstayed my welcome, On my way out I noted that someone had placed flowers at one of the tombstones, but it seemed as if someone had torn them up I noted that any and all memorials to loved ones had been destroyed. That bothered me a little, but I had my escape route all planned out no need to ever come back unless I need to right? Nope, all week the feelings I had about those flowers seemed to stay with me, so my next day off I paid another visit to the cemetery because I did not overstay my visit the last time. I bought as many flowers as I could visiting each tombstone that had a destroyed memorial. I tried my best to quick fix anything that could be salvaged placing them back where they should have been and then adding a flower to it “Excuse me, may I ask what you are doing” I nearly jumped out of my skin, (don’t laugh I’ve seen it happen) a man standing in what I think was a military uniform or a police uniform I’m not sure I don’t really recognize it, My first thought was oh great now I’m going to get arrested for trespassing, I didn’t want to be smart ass but the first thing that pops out of my mouth “um placing flowers, heh heh” He had such pale brown eyes. “Do you know my Lilly,” He asked. His voice, a tad fragile as if it was hard to speak. Fear of being arrested turned to a feeling of... feeling like a jerk, looking at the grave I just placed flowers on, Lilly Adams resting place for a loving mother and wife “No sir, I don’t but the last time I was here” I looked to the ones I had yet to place flowers on “It just seemed like the right thing to do” The uniformed man's eyes followed mine and then back to the flowers in my hands “White lilies” He chuckled “She will love them, thank you” For the rest of the week I felt like an idiot preparing for something that seemed like was not going to happen, I thought they had forgotten about me, and for that one week I was not happy but I was no longer miserable I was recovering. Then that day, that one day, I was walking home from work when I heard “Hey drunken” I spin around their he was walking towards me, I look at his friends are halfway between me and any escape. Leaving only the graveyard the last place I wanted to go, I had no choice the asshole picked up a bottle from the ground, a wicked a smile on his face, this was more than a beating he was planning on giving me… They laughed as I made my way into the cemetery, They weren’t really chasing me but simply taking their time, I was scared (an understatement to say the least) I was tripping over myself, barely able to pick myself up again and then falling over again, Without thinking I leapt over a hedge hoping to jump out of site, I landed on my face, I bit down on my lip to keep myself screaming out in shock, as my nose oozed out blood. I sat up hugging the hedge “Please don’t see me, please don’t see me” I kept saying over and over. When I looked up to see Mr. Adams sitting in his uniform with his hands on his lap, I had fallen into a memorial for fallen police officers, several tombstones lined up. First I interrupted his thoughts to his wife now it seems I am trampling on his moment of silence for his fallen friends what a guy I turned out to be “ I am sorry sir, to interrupt you in a time like this I have nothing but respect for you and your friends, but please can I stay here a bit longer, please” It was easy to hear the fear in my voice, and the voices that caused it I could hear their voices “Hey faaaagit… faaaaaagit were going to beat you, until you like it, Then you are dead” One of them laughed out loud “Coming here was a bad idea this place belongs to me and my boys” Drake boasted , that could explain the damaged memorials for the loved ones I found and fixed (as best as I could) Mr. Adams seemed to hear it but didn’t really move, he looked at me, for a few seconds, smiled at me he motioned with his eyes to another opening, his lips held a gentle smile and he motioned me to run. I did as I was told. I took off looking behind me to see him walking towards them what I also noticed on one of the gravestones was the name... Adams.
After that day I was never attacked or ever saw them again, (No one did) I managed to get back home, Marcus was reading, he saw how pale I was, I told him everything, as I was talking a mile away, someone walked in, to see if everything was all right one of Marcus’s friends, his name was Tom, a cop at the time. As I described the uniform, Tom told me that was an old police uniform, I stopped talking my eyes went wide as I saw what was looking back at me, The eyes of Mr. Adams from a picture, he was wearing his uniform, it was from a newspaper it read Memorial for hero cop. The caption under the picture read as seen here with his wife Lilly.
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