Chapter 2

June 2012 :

I came back to my room, thinking about the story I just read my son. I knew the sequel ,even the end of it. Well, I had to admit that I was the best person to know everything about the story because I was his creator. I had been a writer for 13 years now, and – please don’t think I am showy- but I was quite popular in my city, Chicago, Illinois. I lived in Chicago since 1999 when my son was born and my wife died. She gave birth as she gave her life. After this tragedy, I got away from it all and the only way I found was to write. I started to write poems but it was not strong enough to hold my sadness; rimes was that kind of limit I could not bear. So I wrote stories of all genres: gothic, detective, epic, tragic novels etc. My favorite genre is thriller, because since my wife died my whole life was a nightmare and I never saw the good in people except in my child, the reason for me to live. He was a great boy, he was my pride, I would have given him everything because I owed him everything. I decided to break all ties with my family, because there were only arrogant, despicable and hypocrite people. They always told me they did not like my wife but when she died, they came to her burial in order to show themselves, and to people to pity them. Anyway, I never really liked to talk about my family so I’ll stop here. I was laying in my bed reading my last work again and again, looking for every single imperfection in it. It was called the “Calamity Pain” and talked about a killer psychopath and his actions in an old 20’s Chicago. This psychopath made fun of his victims during a long period in order to finally kill them when they gave up their life. I would consider this work as my masterpiece because it dealt with the allegory of my sadness and, in the novel, the only one who succeeded in killing the psychopath was a father who could count on his son. My son helped me to fight my demons every day and this book was like a tribute to him. I lost the taste of Life he made me love what I hated.

I was dead on my feet and closed the book praying God to give me another day on Earth with my son. I began to sleep when I heard a muffled noise, it was maybe a squirrel on the window or something like that and I did not find it important to check it out. I could never imagine this pointless and unimportant decision would lead to such a conclusion …