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This is in arena as well biggrin


Wind blew, soft and cold. Caressing the earth, and with it, my cheek. Warm rain fell down through the speckled brush and over growth. Ducking low I tried to escape the water. The smell of wet earth and trees was all around I breathed it in deeply. Still doubled over, dodging the rain, I began to run back towards the small hut, in which, me and my father lived. At one point, we had lived in a town. Full of people. I remember the smells of fresh bread from an elderly lady down the road, and the sounds as children, and adults alike, took part in daily life. Most of all, I remember my mother. She was a kindly women. Tall and quite beautiful. She always laughed, and, I can only remember one day were she didn't smile. It was the same day that she went away. My father, he was a good man. But, he was older than my mother and could become extremely jealous if he even suspected that my mother's attentions were on one of the younger men in town. Not to say that my mother was a street whore.For that was not her! She was plagued with the attentions of young men. My father, had at one point, worked in a mine. He was gone for months on end and during that time my mother had indeed become involved with a man closer to her age. One day, when this man came over, she had not expected my father to be home for another month, but, he had been given a break from the mine to see us again, since he had missed us so. I remember him walking through the door smiling, and hugging me. And a second later, he was glaring. Screaming curses in four different languages, he ran at my mother, who was, at the time, in the arms of her lover. He ran at the man and ripped him away from my mother. Grabbing a chair from next to our dining table he hit the man hard with it. The young man scrambled away, head bleeding. And with that, my father turned on my mother. She was backed against the wall, crying and begging forgiveness, but my father had turned to stone in that very moment, and he began to laugh at her efforts to save herself from his anger. Turning his back on her, he found a blunt object, an old walking stick my father had once needed, turning back to her, he smiled and spoke softly "So, you thought that the old man would never know, hmm? That I was too, stupid to know? Is that it? Huh? Answer me!" as he spoke his voice got louder and he looked angrier than he already had. At that moment, I feared he would turn on me as well. My mother looked up, tears running down her face "It was... a mistake.... I swear...only a mistake...please...." But my father would not be swayed. He lifted his arms above his head, and with it the heavy walking stick. Closing my eyes, I counted from one to ten. Over and over, holding my head, hoping that it would be over soon. A sickening thud. Another. A scream, cut off by another thud. When the sounds stopped, I opened my eyes and looked up, tears rushing down. I saw my father, sitting on the chair he had used to hit my mother's lover, leaning on a bloodied walking stick, head in his bloodied hands, crying. I don't remember how long he sat like that before he looked at me. He looked up and his brown eyes, looked black. Hollow and empty. "What...what have I done..." He said, tears running down his shallow cheeks. "She was...all I cared about...other than you..." With that, he held out his arms "I don't blame you if you hate me....but, if you don't...I could use a hug..." I looked at him, studying his face. And with all my might, I tried to hate him, god how I tried. But, I couldn't. Because, he was my dad, and even though he had jsut killed my mother. I knew, somewhere deep inside, that she, she had lied. She hadn't made a mistake of cheating on him. No, he mistake, was getting caught. So, in that moment, I ran to him, and I did hug him. Because I love him, and because, I think he needed a hug as much as me.


Whatcha think? xD