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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1808685-The-Chronicles-of-LJ-Stevans-Part-1
Rated: E · Short Story · Action/Adventure · #1808685
A Chronicle style tale of a man of legend in his world set in a semi blog format.
                                                                                                        by David VanCura


Hello everyone, My name is L.J. Stevans. I am what you might refer to as a world traveler, or maybe even a drifter, I have done and seen a great many thing during my travels. But before I get deeper into that and about who I am I have a few questions I would like to ask you. What is "greatness"? How does one achieve "greatness"? Who determines if the things you do or your life in general is/was "great"? I and some of the things I have done during my time have been referred to as "Great" but what does it mean? I'm not a man that enjoys overly boasting about his past, present of future deeds to others. However, I am a man that enjoys telling a story, the fact that I am centered around the stories is of course merely coincidence, at least in my mind it is. In truth I am just a man that for some reason, many times in my life have been in the right place at the right time, or depending on your position in the event the very wrong place at the absolute worst time.

I have traveled all over the world and have seen amazing wonders, things you wouldn't believe...... things I'm not sure I even believe myself. What I can say is everything I or others may tell you about my life and the events therein is a 100 percent true account as they or I see it. But, that's the kicker, isn't it. Most events that take place in the world are seen from many different vantage points, some accurate, some askew but all of them, at least in the minds of the people recounting them are true. In my case I just tell it how I lived it, and through it all I have been labeled with many descriptions of who I am, a hero, a villain, a thief/or an acquirer of goods and services (if there is a difference), an adventurer, a businessman and many other titles I am sure you will hear when others describe who I am. The one thing, regardless of the title labeled onto me. Everyone, when giving their versions of my exploits will agree on is, I above all else am painfully honest to a fault. However others view me I only know myself as this. I am L.J. Stevans and I cannot lie.

I think many people would view my condition as a good thing, at least when they are on there side of conversations fore there is no wondering about things. You ask, I tell, simple as that. However if you take a moment to think about what it would be like if you could never again utter an untrue word, I think many of you would view it as a very bad thing indeed. To me it is just the way I am. And since I do not know any other way of life, I truly don't have an opinion about it either way, save the way the truth makes me feel when someone hears it, especially the hard to except truths. The effects of my condition and the things I have gained or more importantly lost from being born this way however, I do have opinions on and that is why I am here today talking to all of you. What I know for certain is that this GIFT has saved my life on more than one occasion, but due to the fact that it has put my life in jeopardy many times over, it can often feel like a curse. It will be interesting to read how others view my exploits, and I cannot wait to read and in some cases clarify those accounts of the effects I had on their lives.

You see many years ago when I was born, I was so, without the ability to lie, as I already stated, now of course that didn't become evident to me or my family until years later, when the way I spouted the truth could not simply be written off as an innocent child's view of events. It took me to lose my first family to the truth to understand what I truly am.... Ah Yes, I remember the day well as would you if you found you were living with a killer. Now he may have taken my Mother from me but my inability to tell anything but the truth took the rest of my family from me, which in truth would turn out to be a very fortunate thing for me. However it also left me on my own in the world to carve my own path, where is exactly where I found I belong as well as my purpose in life.

My Father was a good man at least in the eyes of a child he was. He treated and provided for my family well, and seemed to love my Mother with a great passion, unfortunately for her he discovered.....how can I put this delicately.... that many others loved her with the same passion as he. I was 14 when I was asked if I knew my Mother was sleeping around, without even a second thought I uttered the yes that would alter my life and ultimately end my Mothers. When my Uncle Thomas asked me the question I knew the answer would get back to my Father, after all he was his twin brother. What I did not know was that later, after coming home from school, I would find him strangling the life from her. HHmmmm, funny now that I think about it, it was also the first time I was so scared I could not react to the events unfolding in front of my eyes, To this day I still think that if I could have moved I may have saved her, but instead I just stood there frozen in disbelief and fear. Because of this I vowed never again would I be so affected by fear in the face of danger, I would right the wrongs I witnessed from then on.

Once my Father noticed I was there he oddly burst into tears and begged my not to say anything to anybody about what I saw. "I don't know what happened" He cried to me. "I was just confronting her about what you told Thomas and the next thing I knew I was overcome with rage" He rationed through his tears " Do not tell anyone outside of the family about what really happened to her, I'll take care of L.J., I'll make this right." Thinking back on it now, what a funny thing he said to me, on a few levels if you think about it, I mean how could this be made right? And just was I expected to blindly protect the murderer of my Mother, Father or not? And why would he ask me to protect him with a lie it turns out I could not even tell. Had he known that I could not do what he was asking me, I firmly believe I would not be alive today. Regardless of what he said to me after the fact, he knew what was going to happen when he confronted her, how could he not. The thing I find most humorous about that day is that he thought he could make it look like a suicide and he was so convinced the lie would work he called the police to the house himself, even before her body turned cold.

Seeing the difference in his false grief to the officers that arrived at our home convinced me something was off with my Father, and for the first time in my life I would gather emotions to the fact I could only tell the truth, that justice would be served by it. As it turned out in a funny twist of fate, the Policeman, Officer Jack Hundley, was one of the men my Mother was with behind my Fathers back, (along with the first man I would turn to for fatherly advice after being cast aside by the rest of my 1st Family) so it didn't take much for him to figure the truth out for him self. But still of course he asked me and with a happy beat in my heart I confirmed his suspensions. It would also be the the first time I would find myself straddling a line of perception. On one side I was being viewed a Hero for turning my Father over to the hands of justice. On the other I was seen as a villain for not keeping an ill-conceived loyalty to my Father, either way it cost me my 1st family and it would not be the first time it did so. It would however be the first time in retrospect I was not sad to be cast aside.

When I saw the hurt and betrayal in my Fathers eyes I knew it would not be the last I would see of him. He also wore a look of confusion as to why his only son would so seemingly effortlessly turn his Father over to the law. I think at that moment he figured out my secret of what I was. Even so in his head it was still I that was the criminal for turning him in, like he had already forgotten that it was his actions that led to my Mothers lifeless body laying on the floor before us. I will forever remember his eyes, they were the same icy gaze the rest of family through my way, when they found out not only what had happened and what I did, or in this case what I didn't do. You see for reasons I could not yet grasp, they were all very loyal to my Father and for that I was cast out on my own, 14, alone and abandoned. The things I would later discover about my 1st family and their private deeds would provide me with the knowledge that not only was this not my Fathers first go at murder but that my Mothers death was not the whim it seemed to be, it was planned and they all had a part to play in it.......

......But that, that my friends is another story for another day, What I can say that these events are what led up to my decision to become a constant thorn in their side in every opportunity that presented itself. For now, friends my mind needs to clear and I'm sure after reading my ramblings your eyes may need to do the same. I ask for your forgiveness in advance if jumping around to different memories become the norm. You see this is the first time I have had to relive the events that shaped me and dwelling on one for too long just causes me grief I do not wish to experience again. I will make this promise right now however, all will be reveled in time, there is a lot to tell and many emotions that will once again be uncorked from the recesses of my mind.

What I can leave you with is this, The memory I just shared with you is the one that would ultimately shape my life into what it would become. It would also serve the lesson that the absolute truth always has a price and that price is usually loneliness in one form or another. Thank you for joining me, and remember (even though this is counter to the things we are preached to as children) lying only hurts if you get caught, but the truth in some cases can alter your world forever.

                                          L.J. Stevans
© Copyright 2011 David VanCura (davidvancura at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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