Life changed for me after that...how could it not?

The loss of a loved one in your life is a shock so

deep to our emotional core that we mostly shut

down. We become husks, not quite like those that

you’ve seen at the beck and call of an individual, but

similar in a way. We disappear inside ourselves,

adding layer after layer of armor until there is

nothing on the outside that can get in or that we can

feel. Senses are dulled, and our minds allow our

emotions to run rampant without check. For most of

us, we eventually let time numb the part of us that

feels this loss. After a while has passed, which can

vary person to person, we are able to begin

functioning close to our original selves again.

Others, however, are not able to handle the strain

our minds and hearts place upon us. This can lead

those individuals down several paths, most of them

far from good, and mostly harmful to themselves and

those around them.

I don’t remember much of the days that followed

the incident. LIttle did I suspect how it would affect

myself or those around me. I remember having a

service for my mother, but I don’t remember the

words that people said to me when they came up

and either hugged me or put their hands on my

shoulders. I remember seeing the sadness in their

eyes, and the sorrow in their voices but that is all I

can remember.

Imagine a concert hall, lights surrounding the

outside walls and a spotlight on stage. The spotlight

goes out, leaving only the lights surrounding that

area on the stage where it was warm and full a

moment ago. My father and I felt this severely after

everything was said and done. My mother was the

warm sun of our universe, everything revolved

around her and when that went out, we found

ourselves listless and adrift in a void.

Time passed faster than it seemed it should have

been able to. Two years had passed in what

seemed months. My father had slowly began a

downward spiral, he lost his job and took to drinking.

During that time, I only had limited contact with the

people around me. I retreated inward at school.

After the incident, the other children would taunt me

relentlessly saying my father had killed my mother.

After a time, I began to believe it myself. Until one

day, I asked my father if he killed her. He was in a

dark mood, he had been drinking most of the day

and had just lost another job. The house stank of

old alcohol, a bread smell that seemed to permeate

everything inside. The kitchen was fouled with

leftover food and semi empty beer bottles. “Son,

what did we say about that day?” His eyes were

glassed over, lacking their former mirth and warmth.

I stared defiantly at him for a moment until I lowered

my eyes to the floor. “That mom slipped into a sink

hole and we couldn’t find her body.” My dad got to

his feet, stumbling as he reached his full height. He

walked over to me and placed his hand on my

shoulder, even from that distance I could smell the

stink of alcohol as he gasped for air. “That’s right.

Now remember, we don’t talk about things like that.”

He grasped the back of my head, and grabbed a

handful of my hair. He yanked so hard that he must

have pulled at least half of it out, forcing my eyes up

to his. “Got it?!” His face full of malice and disgust

as he slurred out those two words. Tears filled my

eyes as they met his, “Yes papa.” I sounded meek

even to my own ears. “I want you to promise me

that you will never speak of her again!” He yelled,

spittle flying into my face. I looked up at him,

blinking meekly, “I promise papa.” He let me go,

“Good, now that that’s settled you are going to have

to figure out dinner for yourself, I’m going outside.”

With that he turned around and stumbled outside,

the sound of the screen door accentuated his leave

from the house.

I was left alone in the kitchen. Tears in my eyes,

the smell of old food and my father’s breath still in

my nostrils. Little did I know how words had

changed for us. I promised him I would not speak of

that topic again. For several long years I kept silent.

There were several incidents like that with my father.

In fact, the last memory of him I have was of him

standing on the porch cursing me as I left home.

After that incident, I found some stale bread.

Took the pieces that had no mold on them and

made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I retreated

to my room to eat the spoils of a hard fought meal. I

looked outside, my father had the garage door open

and I could see the silhouette of him just outside of

the remaining daylight. Beer cans littered the

entrance to his “castle” as he liked to call it, the small

smoke trail pouring out of the garage let me know

the “dragon” was resting. I turned around, locked

the door, and finished my supper. I turned on the

television in my room, a bulky thing cracked and

yellowed on the sides. That was something my

father bought me to keep me quiet and out of his

way. I began flipping through the channels while

glancing out the window or at the door to my room.

Snippets of the various programs filled the air as I

made my way through the listing. “A giant snake like

bird was seen over...” caught my ear as I passed by

a news channel. I stopped, my sandwich half in my

mouth. “Wha...?” I said to myself and scrambled to

find the down button on the remote. Just as I

changed the channel back to the​ ​news program they

had finished the story, someone was talking over the

image they had up on the screen. It was the

creature, the very same down to the flesh and

feathers hanging off of it in tatters. “This creature

was seen hovering over Lake Michigan for several

hours. Local residents complain of the creature

emitting some type of roar that can be heard for

miles around. Officials have yet to comment.” The

rest of what the news people had to say was

drowned out by the numbness I felt inside. After

seeing that creature, I was forced to relive those

horrible moments...the glean from the eyes, the

tearing of the earth. I shuddered and felt my

stomach start to quiver. I retched onto the floor,

tears started flooding my eyes, clouding my vision. I

looked up at the screen, the Coast Guard was called

in to assess the situation with the creature. I saw a

reporter standing on the pier looking out to the lake

and giving a scenario of what she saw. She had her

back facing the camera as I could only see the

strawberry red of her rain coat she was wearing.

“Well Kelly, it looks as if the Coast Guard has formed

a circle around the creature. No reaction from it yet

as it just seems to be hovering above Lake

Michigan. Pieces of the creature appear to be falling

into the lake with no visible side effects so far. Wait,

what’s this?” She held two of her fingers up to her

ear. “It appears as if the Coast Guard will be

organizing a strike against it soon.” The camera

slowly zoomed over the shoulder of the reporter out

onto the lake proper. As it reached the maximum

length it could reach flashes appeared around the

creature. The reports of the ship weapons were

heard a few seconds later, a crack followed by a low

rumble that always reminded me of a thunderstorm.

Slowly the sky surrounding the creature began

clouding up with smoke trails.

The reports went on for a few seconds more

before dying down. The sky looked as if a cloud of

smoke spouted from some gigantic fire out in the

middle of the lake. “Kelly, it looks as if the creature

has been subdued. We’re just waiting for the smoke

to clear before we can get a confirmation.” As she

finished, the cloud slowly cleared away. The

creature was still hovering in the air, but it finally

noticed the ships surrounding it. A roar escaped

from inside the beast, from where I could not say. It

angled it’s pointed head up to sky, looking for its

next destination given what happened next. A flash,

followed by a sphere of pure light appeared out on

the lake. The reporter cried out as she covered her

eyes, the camera jostled as I imagine the

cameraman covered his. When the light faded, the

air where the creature had been floating was empty,

with only a heat mirage proving that it was there at

all. The lake was boiling visibly from the distance

the reporter was at. “Oh my god...” was all she

could utter.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” I forgot all

about my father, as the sound of his voice forced me

back to reality. How long he stood there I can’t even

tell. He looked at the vomit on the floor, then back to

me. He walked up to the television and shut it off,

turned on me and grabbed the scruff of my shirt. He

lifted me up until I was only a few inches from his

face. It was then that I noticed something in the

eyes of my father for the first time, disgust. He was

filled with revulsion of me, simply for having lived

while my mother died. “What did I tell you about that

bullshit?!” He yelled into my face, I could smell the

cheap beer and cigarettes on his breath. “It’s real

though dad! People have seen it, we can talk about

mom and what happened to...” My words were cut

short as he drove his fist into my stomach. I

coughed and retched up what was left in my

stomach, leaving it all over the front of my father’s

pants. He looked down at the mess I had made,

and swung at my face. The lights dimmed, and I

heard a ringing in my ears followed by a thud as my

body hit the floor. “Clean that shit up, don’t make

me have to come up here and teach you again.” He

stumbled out of the room without his pants on. The

television was taken out of my room after that.

The next day, after my father had sobered up he

came and found me. “Son, that nonsense doesn’t

exist. Your mom fell into a sinkhole, the river must

have washed her away by the time police searched

the area. Don’t go spreadin’ no lies about how she

died and stirrin’ up trouble for us.” He ruffled the top

of my head, I winced as my skin was pulled tight

over where he had hit me the previous day. He

noticed that. “Now son, what are we going to do

with you. How many times have I told you not to

pick fights with the other kids?” I looked up at him

puzzled. “What do you mean dad? I didn’t pick a

fight with no one.” He stared deadpan at me, “Yes,

you did. Don’t go tellin’ people I did that to you

when you picked a fight with some of them other

kids. The kids that were telling you all of those lies

about me and your mom.” I finally understood what

he meant. “Yes papa, I understand.” He smiled that

easy smile of his, “Good, you were always a smart

boy. Glad to see you picked up on it. Now don’t go

gettin’ into more trouble.”