Nature's Bitch

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
I thought that maybe my father was trying to be sweet... in a very strange way. He didn't praise me often so I had high hopes that in this moment, I was one of his favorites. But maybe his sweet words weren't so sweet. And maybe his intentions were the exact opposite...

Submitted: June 27, 2017

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Submitted: June 27, 2017



Being one with nature doesn't always create the picture of frolicking through the meadows... naked, does it? Or is that always what people imagine?

Okay, so my hope for subtle phrases to mean something more pure is futile. Or maybe you imagined me fucking a deer. That's just gross, dude. In fact, that's what we like to call bestiality. And when I say we, I mean the entire human race. 

So let's wipe that from our heads and move on to a less disturbing topic. Gross... Now I've got this image. Forget it, you don't wanna know.

I brought up this topic for entirely different reasons though. My father told me not to resist it - that we'll all become one with nature one day. Sure, it was at the end of an argument so he might have just found a really poetic way to say kill yourself.

But I thought that maybe he was pushing for something deeper - like change your ways or grow up and be a man. You're probably wondering what drove my father to say something like that. It's funny actually... the conversation before all this.

Basically I told him that I had found the love of my life - the girl of my dreams. He asked multiple times if it was an imaginary woman. He even offered to take me out on the town... to ya know... revamp my spirits. Telling him that I wasn't joking wasn't an affair to be taken lightly.

Maybe he really did mean frolicking in the meadow. Was he happy for me? Could it really be...

That didn't make sense. I distinctly remember the words 'little shit', 'bitch', and 'pussy' making an appearance in the conversation. And my father was a very strange person with his words. He skewed perfectly good phrases to mean something entirely different.

I also remember him grabbing his shotgun and putting a hole in my car window. Bastard nearly missed my head. Then again, he was an excellent shot and he didn't miss. In fact, at the moment, I had all I owned - the clothes on my body and the car that was I driving, racing down the road at nearly 100 miles an hour. 

It wasn't my fault that my mother tried to kill my father. But at this point, there were two different aspects to that story. Either, I could see why or that's not really how that story played out...

Maybe this... this 'one with nature' was his way of disowning me peacefully. Or maybe those truck lights behind me signified that he wanted me to fucking die.

© Copyright 2018 D. Nic. All rights reserved.

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