Harry Saxon's Plight

November 23, 2011
By Thandi BRONZE, Los Angeles, California
Thandi BRONZE, Los Angeles, California
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Harry was a young boy whose life story was nothing to brag about; in fact it had a tendency to bring up a rueful spirit in others. Harry came from a fairly large family that was always in a state of complete and total destitution. Harry often found himself being the target of someone else’s benevolence. Harry stopped going to school at the age of 12 because of his family’s impoverished state; but still yearned for knowledge. Harry being the eldest of his 4 siblings had to go out and find a job repairing walls that were beginning to slough to help support his family. His mother was no longer able to keep her job in the clothing factory due to her painful, disfiguring malady. Harry’s mother’s condition was unknown because she had never had the money to go to the doctor and receive an accurate prognosis. Harry’s father on the other hand worked constantly doing construction jobs; yet ironically never had the time to repair his ramshackle of a home. His father worked hard every day of his life, but was never considered as a reputable man by his peers.

Harry and his siblings would ponder to each other about what life would possibly be like if they weren’t broke. Harry’s younger sister, Elliot would regularly talk about the lavish home she would one day have. How it would be posh, bigger than any home in existence and have floors made of solid gold. Harry’s youngest brother Nathan would sigh at the thought of never having to pick up another trowel again, never having to pick the weeds and tend to the gardens of those better off than he. Nathan was a bit of a maverick about his future, but maybe that was because he was so young. Oliver, the middle son, was almost incessant when he talked about his dreams of becoming an architect. He wanted to one day build a giant thoroughfare that would connect their small city of Strangetown to the big and bustling Pleasantville. It would inevitably be named “The Oliver Saxon thoroughfare”. Danielle was another of Harry’s sisters; she was very quiet and sheepish and rarely shared her dreams and aspirations. When she did share though, she would express absolute unadulterated glee. Danielle wanted to be a chef in her very own restaurant and create hundreds of yummy succulent dishes everyday.

Harry’s mother Sarah, would often tell her children that such ideas were borderline tactless. Of course this statement contained very little veracity and was said only because she couldn’t bear the thought of her children’s dreams one day being crushed by the harsh reality of life. She knew that the college bills that were sure to pile up should her children go would remain unrequited forever. She also knew that if she continued to let them dream so big she would feel the constant nag of unatoned sins once they found that their hopes would never be fulfilled. Sarah felt she was to blame for her children’s misfortune every time she trundled past one of them and they gave her a solemn glance. Had she not gotten sick she would have been able to continue working; and maybe wouldn’t have had to raise her children in that relic of a home. Sarah realized that a wave of misery had swept over their home once she realized that she no longer heard the joyful squalling of her children. Sarah often contemplated suicide but then thought of how selfish a decision this was; her feelings on the subject were constantly hung in limbo.

Harry’s father Jacob took some time to figure out just how daunting life was beginning to become for his family. He frequently felt like his family members were leering at him from afar for being so unsuccessful in his business endeavors. Jacob was in a constantly harried state from the harsh conditions at work and the even worse ones at home. Jacob’s hair was receding and he was nearly bald from the ongoing stress in his life. Jacob referred to his life as a proverbial he** on earth.

By the age of 15 Harry was tired of the inextricably cruel conditions he was always under. He was almost always hungry due to the lack of proper nutrients and his physical appearance was so far away from paunchiness that it was nearly unhealthy. Harry was irritated with the fact that he would never in his life be given the opportunity to graduate and throw his mortarboard up in the sky. Harry’s irritation at his situation soon turned into resentment which gradually turned into unwavering abhorrence. Why couldn’t his father have gotten a better job or gone off to college? Why did his parents have to have so many children? Why did his mother have to get sick? Why did his mother have to marry such a poor bast*** as his father? Why did he have to be born? Harry pondered these questions for some time and one day found an easy answer to them all.

One early morning in March Harry woke up before anyone else and picked up a long, heavy, metal souvenir his mother had been given by a friend up off the mantelpiece and first walked into his parent’s small bedroom. Harry lifted the object and began to forcefully bludgeon them both to death. No screams or shouts were heard only those of the metal hitting their flesh. Harry wiped the mixture of sweat and his parent’s blood from his forehead and walked out of the room customarily known as the living room but was instead his and his siblings’ bedroom. Harry walked over silently to where they all were asleep on a large palate covered in blankets. He tenderly kissed each one of their heads and then began pounding into each one. Not a single one stirred nor awoke from the sweet dreams they were surely having. The palate that had been somewhat converted into a bed was now covered in the lifeless bodies of four innocent little children. Harry began to sob but tried to remind himself that it was better this way, that in heaven they’d be happier. Harry still had one piece of business to attend to so he dropped the metal souvenir and walked into the tiny kitchen of their home and picked up a large, sharp steak knife off the counter, which had ironically never had the honor of cutting through any steak. Harry took a deep breath and on the exhale shoved the knife directly into the left side of his chest. Harry began to stumble a little and looked down with a slight state of awe and madness in his eyes at the stream of blood now dripping down the front of his shirt. Harry’s body began to oscillate a bit before his body dramatically descended to the floor. That was the end of Poor Harry’s life.

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