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A story about the pitfalls of being painfully flawed. Even the strong can break apart. Based on a true story.

Other / Mystery
Age Rating:

Once upon an alter

The room is flooding with grief seeping from the pores of those around me. I can smell the mustiness of the tears clinging to their forms like the mildew of a sweating wall. My eyes blur as they lock on a similarly hued elder pair shining an eerily bright green in contrast to the red skin and eye meat surrounding.

My face wets and I am sure the ceiling must be weeping with rain water. It was raining outside wasn't it? My hand reaches tremulously up aided by my arm imbued with all the strength of a deceased eel. I feel a tightening in my chest as something wrenches wild and free, threatening to devour me whole.

The room is swimming or maybe I am. It must be the room holding all this excess water and not my flesh filling up like a child's summer toy. I mentally plod towards the words swirling about me in tandem with the blinking of red and blue piercing through the glass of the windows and painting the walls in warning. I feel flushed, not in my skin but of the world. My being has been tossed into a swirling of toilet water. I am wasted.

"I'm so so sorry." The skin around the older set of eyes pinches with the grief of the theft of a lover promised through sickness and health.

The flesh of my body folds in on itself like the material of a sweat drenched piece of origami. I am undone. Whomever I am in this moment is unravelling, but someone fiercer weaves themself within the strands of me.


I'm called by a name not my own. I can't wear the name. It's a hand-me-down suit that doesn't fit me, but I have to wear it or they will see the nakedness of me. The length and breadth of the sleeves tear to accommodate the fullness of my being. The letters of the name tear with the papery translucence of the stretching it requires to allow me out.. or in. I'm not sure which.

All feeling has become mist. It kisses the earthen blades that protect the tenderness of soil beneath. Red hot blame shoots like lasers at her from my eyes, in spite of the chiefest of it reflecting back onto myself. He had asked me where I was going. I was so angry at him for giving up and lying down as if to die. He died.

How could he die without me here? He asked me if I was going to leave him there to deal with the landlord on his own. All those childhood dances and skate parties were wasted while I stayed home to watch him. A childhood of care scrambled like so much egg yolk before my eyes. I am anger and bitterness incarnate. I am the sharpest blades of grass fending off the mist of emotion swirling about as if it were my father's murderers. Many years later, I would come to understand they, in fact, were.

The paramedics are sitting on his stool. Don’t they have any idea what this is doing to me? I need something to comfort me. I need something of his to tether me to the cracking and crumbling earth beneath my feet. I walk through the doorway leading to his deathbed looking for his jacket only to find his corpse lying there as if waiting to mock my efforts. He’s gray now and in soiled boxers. This is how I am doomed to remember him.

I am falling through the darkness of the evening sky. When my body hits the floor, my eyes close with the impact. With a groan from the pit of my stomach, I peek my bleary eyes open. Shock racks my emotionally mangled frame, as I find I am no longer in my home but somewhere entirely foreign to me. Just as my father instructed me for years, I take stock of my surroundings. Where the hell am I? Did the shock kill me? The padding of small feet has me looking behind me.

"Heya pal! Nice to see ya, pal!"

"Pal? Who are you, kid? Where is this place? Are we dead?"

"Dead?" The matted blonde curls bounce about her freckled face as she walks on her tiptoes closer to where I am sitting on dusty wooden flooring. "What's dead, pal?"

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Further Recommendations

Cristina Maria Verhest: Like I said so many times before these MC books that people write about pertain to situations that are happening in today society although some may be worse than others in all aspects it pertains to everyday or currencies and the authors of these books really go in depth on certain situations I a...

BlueIvydoll: After reading the introduction, I was unsure if I would be captivated by this story. I was terribly wrong and the author has been really good at capturing the reader and pulling them in. This is definitely a story I will re-read and definitely recommend others to read.

Diane: This is a great sequel to the “Atoned” story line!

Diane: This is a good read. Be careful of reiterating the books previously written.

Leanne: I give this book five stars I love the entire book there is nothing I don’t like about this bookI 100% recommend this to you if you have to read something with a traumatic storyline

Diane: I haven’t been able to put this one down.

Pournima Ganapathy Raman: Something new and you can never guess what will happen next

sharonharder4: Interesting point of view. Good read. Looking forward to the sequel. :)

Ma fe: A good Reads, fantastic shortbut enough to cherish, awesome, ilove how itis written.overall excellent stories.

More Recommendations

Lisa: A few errors, but overall I love this book so far

Leyla-Claude: Shorter than the other two books but I like how the story is coming together nicely. Looking forward to book 4

Janis Hynes: Really good book!!!

Fe Emma: This is a great love story with a happy ending! It tells us the big difference between a city life and a small community life! It's a great Christmas story!

Cat: Great story! It was fast paced, Spicy Sweet & funny. CL Walden's words were intriguing & kept me interested. She also made me laugh, cry, rejoice, feel all sorts different emotions. Well written! I'm now invested on reading the next book.

Deleted User: The fact that the book ends before she even goes on the date/dinner is so frustrating. But Even though...I love your story and the rollercoasters it takes me on. 💚🖤🖤⚔☠😁☠⚔🖤🖤💚

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