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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1936294
by Mike
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Dark · #1936294
A man is dead and looks on at his body while thinking about the past.
Shadow of the Past
by Mike Truluck
No tomb has the audacity to bury my soul deep within its confinement for I am still lingering on watching those around me live their pathetic lives. No tomb shall ever obstruct my path into darkness and flame, I know that now. My soul is here now gazing upon the body that was once my own and is now there, alone for all eternity. I wonder if some part of me is already burning in everlasting damnation inside that box filled with suffering and loneliness and by now, probably worms like the worms I despise walking around. Every step I take I see their smiles and this side bursts out like an escape convict from inside that wants nothing more but every last one of them miserable and cursed like I am. I do not understand the bitterness of life and how much pain a person can endure over the years. If only they could see what I had to go through for the past ten years. If only they could feel the extent of my own curse. It's like an everlasting rapture upon the entire globe even when the people speak of goodness, hope, faith, and equality. Based upon my life, well, what was left of my life before the end, there was constant war being unleashed upon the children of the earth. There was no such thing as hope back when I was alive all those years ago, even before the world went to Hell. This was the truth of what the planet was to me, a place only existing for the cause of anger; rage among all who stand for what they call peace. The men and women riot over religion and were willing to cast flames among themselves to make a point. The years were long and without purpose... The war was pointless with only innocent lives bleeding out all over the world... There was no sign of the war ending... No sign of peace for the entire human race... No one was safe in the world any longer. The sunshine represented growth to some, but for me, the sun is like an infection that spreads throughout the victim, killing them slowly, but surely. The tomb is still there cradling my lifeless body that was now rotting ever so intently in the blazing sunlight seeping through the cracks of the stone. The light engulfed my flesh with what I have come to hate in this miserable world. My only wish was for that incriminating star to meet its inevitable end while I live on alone in complete and utter darkness... My only desire is to live in shadow with no light intruding. I want life to be over for all those who seek peace because if peace could not exist in my time, then peace is only a made up word. I still remember the funeral even after all this time reflecting on how much time has gone by since the day I found only one way out... The day I put my life to a bitter end with that double barreled shotgun hiding in the back of the bedroom closet. The day of the funeral came quick on a Thursday afternoon. It was raining the entire time as they buried me in that same tomb marked B.T (Benjamin Thomas). I couldn't stand to glare at my own flesh and blood laying there folded up like a bed sheet. The only person that caught my eye was the man standing near the back of the cemetery with a crooked face and both hands in each pocket of his fancy raincoat. I remember his face and I remember his soul... The sickening display of how much he really cared baffled me even then. He was the reason I ended my life for putting my company out of business with the snap of a finger. His name was Ronald Bosley, the only man I would have killed myself if I only had the strength to commit the murder. I was a good man back then, the leader of my corporation involving Windows XP. I could not bring myself to kill the man even after he had robbed me of everything... Everything I worked for my whole life. That's all over now when I appear in Bosley's dream torturing whatever soul he has in that corrupted mind of his. I will see him suffer more than I have suffered for what seemed like a lifetime. I will make his life a living Hell after the sun fades down on the horizon. All in good time, of course. Oh, Bosley, I will make you beg for death. I do sometimes think about how pointless it was to kill myself if all that was accomplished laid out in front of me staring me right in the face with those disgusting empty sockets. It was my own body looking at me now instead of I at it. I can see the flesh still decaying inside the casket. I can see the jaw completely shattered from the blast of the gun. I was wearing the same green jacket I wore on the day I was fired from the better half of my life. My scalp was torn to shreds and pictures were put in of me back when I was in high school and other bits and pieces of my successful life. The past is and always will be the past... There is no way of changing it... The only thing you can do is move on and forget the awful things that happened. In my particular case, I will rip the very flesh from Bosley's greed-filled throat and feed it to his pitiful dogs. The suffering will never end...
(The sun sets and rises again, only this time, a red sun has taken its place)
© Copyright 2013 Mike (redlettermedia at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1936294