I'm sorry, father.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story about a boy whose mistake cost him his father.

Submitted: September 08, 2010

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Submitted: September 08, 2010

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~THE GIFT

The typical morning air was crisp, refreshing and worth waking up to. The twitter of birds filled the air ferociously just like the deafening honk of cars on the cluttered and polluted expressway. Their wings fluttered in the soft and fresh air effortlessly as they dived relentlessly beneath the dew covered trees. Over at the university, fresh flowers dotted the usually colourless school grounds. The school had never looked better. The large clock in the hallways ticked endlessly and impatiently. Each tick was like a yearning and hungry call. The ticks grew louder as time drew closer and closer, and echoed in the partially lit school hall with a countdown. Nothing could ruin the day ahead.

Eight o’ clock. The school bells chimed loudly in unison and down below at the same school grounds, red graduation caps flew up into the blue skies to mark this special occasion. I caught my cap as it came back down. Pride and joy overwhelmed me. Father got up from his seat and approached me. He grinned from ear to ear and felt even more pride than I did. “I promise you a reward, son,” he began, his voice croaky yet triumphant. I asked for a brand new car.

Weeks later, father called me home with my reward waiting anxiously in his hands. As I arrived, I could hardly contain the excitement that was growing inside of me. I had been waiting for the chance to drive my own car for years. My hands squealed with excitement as father handed me a beautifully wrapped gift box. The box was delicately polished black and tied neatly with a glowing red ribbon that soothed and welcomed my shining eyes.

I opened the box in a split second, only to reveal a brand new Bible. Where was the car key? The surroundings came to a standstill as anger boiled in my blood. The box sat quietly in my hands, but all too soon, the silence disappeared quickly as I tossed the box into the bin with all my might. I left the house with thundering footsteps, and never returned again. A year later, I was informed that father had passed away. I was called to return back home to collect father’s possessions. As I was sorting through the dusty drawers, I recognised a familiar item. I took a closer look and it was the gift, the same polished black gift box that I had thrown away in the spur of anger, only that it was dustier now. At that moment, it sat on my hands again, just like it did a year ago.

At that point of time, the beautiful red ribbon was neatly tied back, supposedly by father, as though he was awaiting the opening of the box again. I slowly untied the ribbon, placed it on the table, and picked up the bible that sat innocently inside. As I was flipping through, I felt a bulge at the pages, somewhere in the middle of the bible. I flipped to the page. A verse was highlighted in a fading yellow colour. Proverbs 10:12 read, “Hatred stirs up dissension, but love covers all wrongs.” Above the verse was a brand new car key, taped down to the middle of the almost new pages.

As I pulled out the tape carefully, tears of frustration and remorse filled my saddened, dry eyes. My heart hung low, depressed and at a loss. My wet eyes roamed around the emptiness. I could not turn back the clock again. I stood up, punched the table so hard that the weak wood parted into strips and one table leg broke, causing the table to fall to the side. It landed on the floor with a deafening crash. Just like the table, I collapsed.


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