My dad's work

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is the first short story I wrote.
I hope you like it.

Submitted: August 27, 2014

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Submitted: August 27, 2014



THE WORLD IS WONDERFUL!! The sun, the plants, the trees, all things in it create a beautiful, marvelous symphony. This is something I knew since I was a child. During those years I was, in fact, fascinated by everything around me: the infinite sky, the tombstones of my garden and even the steady and slow march of a group of ants. But the thing that fascinated me the most in this entire universe was that briefcase... my dad's briefcase, the red briefcase that he would take every night when he traveled to the city.

During those years my dad always refused to take me with him, I could never understand why and sometimes I would get really mad at him; I was curious, I was convinced that this world was perfect and I wanted to explore every corner of it. Oh, how naive I was. 

When I finally turned 18 he decided it was finally time to show me the city and his work in it. As soon as we arrived I understood why my father never wanted me to see it, it was the most horrifying place you could think of: Smoke all over the air, horrible sounds everywhere, grey clouds and buildings covering the sky, but the most horrible and also sad part of the city was the creatures that inhabited it: They were all dark figures, all of them wearing masks that covered their faces, their feelings, their honesty, their purity.

We arrived finally at our destination, a small modest house; as soon as we arrived my dad opened the briefcase, got out some tools and with them he easily opened the door. I assume they were expecting us because as soon as the students saw my dad enter the room with his instruments in hand they immediately started singing: in the end my dad was a music teacher.

But it was in that moment that I really understood the beauty of my dad's work: in a second through beautiful singing filled with fear and desperation he had returned purity and honesty to those poor creatures. After the class my dad just stood there, in the middle of the room, hands full of blood, humming the song he just produced, with a huge smile on his face.

That night before falling asleep I cried of happiness multiple times remembering the short, yet beautiful scene I saw and I decided that someday I would too fight to return the purity to this corrupted and destroyed world, I decided that some day I would also produce my own magnificent and perfect symphony.

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