The Truth

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
The rumors haven't stopped. Some say he was shot to death, others say he was put in jail. But none have come close to what really happened on the day I learnt the truth about my father.

Submitted: October 23, 2014

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Submitted: October 23, 2014

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THE TRUTH

It’s been six years since that awful day, and not many have passed without nightmares. It all started when my father moved us to the West. I was five, and I never questioned the shift because it all seemed like one grand adventure. It wasn’t until I was eleven that I started noticing all the outlandish things happening around.

 My father was the leader of his coterie that met way too often in an old barn behind our house which was privy to him and his bunch of burly men. Curiosity got the better of me and I often found myself standing on my toes, taking a peek through the windows when no one was around. It was a filthy place filled with junk of every kind. Eventually, my spying had to come to an end when my father went haywire after having found me trying to get inside the barn. Was all that cloak and dagger really necessary?

Very often my father reminded me of a regicide in hiding. Other than the occasional meeting with his lot, he never left the house. He used to hole himself up either in the barn or his room with his telephone, only coming down for meals.  He was never much of a father figure; he was a man who was just as nice to me as an uncle I meet twice a year. My mother being the meek person she is, never questioned where all the money came from.  My thoughts on the other hand didn’t wait before painting vivid and imaginative pictures of what my father actually did.

A week before the appalling incident, I ended up eavesdropping on one of my dad’s conversations on his phone. It was all Greek to me but I was able to figure out that he was going to hold a social gathering a week later and that a ballpark figure of about hundred people was to attend the event. I could have never envisaged my dad as a convivial host and the notion of him socializing with a bunch of people was the most humorous thing I had heard in days. This then led me to believe that the party was just a cover up for something big that was going to take place in a few days.

It’s been years but the rumours haven’t stopped. Some say he was shot to death, some say he is serving a sentence in prison, but none have come close to what really happened. Now, I am seventeen and invisible and all I can think of is what life would have been like if I hadn’t died on the very day I had learnt the truth about my father.

It was the day of the event; it was around three in the afternoon that my father came running into my room in dire straits. He demanded that I pack my bags and get ready to leave in an hour. My mother had been told the same thing. I wondered what all the hurry was about as the event was to start at five but I knew better than to question my dad. So, I packed a tiny back pack and stepped out of my room only to see a group of men dragging my father away. I ran after them but was soon kicked out of the way by one of the men. The kick was what killed me. I later learnt that my mother was left unconscious in the house.

Those few minutes before my death, was when I learnt the truth about my father. My father having seen me getting kicked by the men forced himself out of their bounds and came running towards me. And in his eyes I saw The Truth, The Pain; His love for me, but it was too late, wasn’t it? I uttered my last words, “Dad”.

 


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