Tragedies befall everyone, months pass by and then years and these tragedies become memories.

Every day they tell us that tomorrow will be better. You make it through the day with this promise of a better tomorrow, then tomorrow comes and you realize that nothing has changed.

What you don’t understand is that by understanding that nothing has changed, you change everything. That’s the day you wake up and realize that you are the only thing that needs to change.  But that’s just part of the problem, because some people never change.

His was a tragic life, at least that’s what he told everyone. Born with a silver spoon only to find that silver spoon snatched from his mouth by his own father. Born to a loving mother only to see her driven crazy by her husband’s antics until one day she took more than her usual dose of sleeping pills and never woke up.

Bullied throughout school by heartless punks who bullied him simply because he was skinny and they could. He slogged to get into college and worked part time all the while he was there to pay for it. His father could easily have paid for his education but had decided on his wife s deathbed that he would desert his son just as his she had deserted him.

Maybe he thought he could still make her suffer through him as her ghost looked on. Maybe he was right. Maybe there was such thing as a ghost. He wondered like billions before him and billions left to come if there was a life after death or if it consisted of eternal dreamless sleep which continued even after the body had rotted in its grave.

He wondered if death could be peaceful or a whirlwind of torment. He thought of the thousands of ways that man and nature had devised to bring about the demise of a human being.

He thought of the implications of these thoughts for him. In general he thought of death, it had always been foremost in his mind ever since his mother’s.

He gave a long helpless sigh followed by an even longer gulp of beer  as he downed his glass  in one go. He stumbled for loose change in his pocket with which he paid the barman. As he got up and turned to leave, his clumsy hand knocked over the drink that the person sitting next to had placed on the counter while talking to his friends.

He staggered to towards the door without giving any notice to what had happened until a man caught hold of his shirt collar and pulled him back.

“Why don’t you buy my friend another drink?”

“I only have enough money to pay for my ride home.”

“That’s quite all right, why don’t we buy you a drink.”

“That’s very considerate of you but I’d just like to go home now.”

“Did you think that I was actually going to buy you one?”

The man holding him by the collar gave a short laugh. Suddenly he felt furious, he just wanted to go home and they would not let him. He picked up a bottle from the table on his right and smashed it against the man’s face. The man’s friends were upon him the next instance. They pinned him to the floor. They punched and kicked him. He was barely able remain conscious and then he felt it, a piece of metal that shattered the bones in his legs. With a spasm of pain like he had never felt before his battered mind and body were finally too much for him to bear and he collapsed.

He woke up in hospital the next day to find the police waiting for his version of what had happened. He did not lie but told them exactly what he remembered which was not much, they filled him in on the rest.

to be continued…