reading helter skelter

“I don’t believe in love.”

Many stories follow the trend of all time favourite clichés in the world of storytelling, starting with a good opening, a flawless and complex plot, layers of sub plots, a probable twist, an exciting climax, and a heartbreak closing. I am going to tell you a story that is not like that. It does not follow the rules; bends a few and most certainly will be tragic and angsty to a certain degree.

This is the story of Duane Peterson, and it begins whence he is just a young boy living in a peaceful town in England, right up through his life till he finally finds himself and what he has been searching for his whole life. Actually, I could go on all I liked about him and tell you what happens through my perspective, but of course, you’d want to hear it from him yourself, wouldn’t you?

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Like I said before, I don’t believe in love. Ever since the day I first tasted the air of the world, love has just been a mere word in the English dictionary to me. My mates, pastor and teacher tell me that everyone has their purposes on this earth, but they don’t know what I am, whatever I have been through, what I have seen or even experienced do they? No one could ever understand where I was coming from, pointing at, or thinking of. Well, only my best mate Derrek fathoms, but he has seen, experienced and understood the circumstances; the closest anyone within a mile from the church to the Perry Lake has came to comprehending me. In short, I was half an accident, and half a black sheep.

Prime years of my life were spent in constant turbulence. Though details are fuzzy, but the inscribed sounds of screaming and argument into the night constantly find their way into my dreams, and silently puncture the stillness and peacefulness of the night, strangling me with the fear that the horror was back again for a second vengeance, the screams and bangs and glass cracking steadily increasing in volume against the silence of the night. The crying of both mother and child penetrating even the boldest of hearts. Indeed, one may think that the story ends here, at the very junction of a deprived and sad childhood, mixed with abuse and dangerous fathers, but it just begun.

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post by joshua at 5:31 AM (x)