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A Young Boy's Tale

It was a night, just like any other night. The moon shone high in the sky and I was tucked safe and sound in my bed. Well that was true until he decided to come. With my mother resting in the grave that he put her in and my grandmother oblivious to everything, there was nobody to stop him. I was only a child then or I would have done something sooner. He slowly ascended the stairs, his drunkenness causing him to stumble. I tried to hide, burrowing deep down underneath my blankets, but he seemed to find me, just like always.


Some time later………


“Confess your sins to me my son,” the priest said to me. “Only God and I will know”. During this entire so called confession, Father Donovan seemed to inch his way closer and closer to me, to where his hand now rested on my shoulder. “Just open up to me and everything will be fine. Trust me, I want to help save you.” Now his hand had moved slowly to where it now laid on my thigh.
The irony of the whole situation was that I was here to confess and be forgiven, yet here he was doing all the talking and sinning. I found it quite comical. A few giggles accidently escaped, which seemed to tick old Donovan off a bit. The priest grabbed my shoulders applying enough pressure to make me wince. “You mustn’t stray from the path of God. If you do, and don’t confess, you will be condemned to hell”, Father Donovan screamed at me while shaking me vigorously. “Get away from me!” I said as I pushed myself away from him. “You think I’m the messed up sinning freak? Think again buddy. It’s you and that deranged grandmother of mine.”
I high tailed it out of there as fast as I could, passing pew by pew on my way out. When I reached the sanctuary entrance, I was welcomed to the doors bursting wide open in my face to reveal my grandma standing there. She was looked like a mad hatter crossed with a rabid dog. The gleam in her eyes and the foam that was just pouring out of her mouth gave me the hint.
“Why you little imp of a child!” she screeched. She somehow trapped me in the corner and her hands found their way around my throat. “You tempted my son, just like the devil, and transformed him into the man he has become. You’re the reason my poor baby boy is locked up in jail. You’re demon processed and for that you must burn in hell for eternity.” The old hag had finally lost it.
“Get out of my face you witch. I’m not going any where, but you’re welcomed to go there if you wish.” Surprisingly I stayed calmed and kept my wits about me. I wished I could have socked it to her right then and there. With that said I stormed out of the church. That was the last time I ever entered a church, or let alone saw my grandmother.
I plunged myself head first into the awaiting rain outside. The rain beat down on my face soaking me to the bone as I walked along the quiet, dreary, empty sidewalk. As I went on my depression only seemed to get worse.

“God, I know we’ve been over this so many times, but why me?” I whispered to myself. “Why was I forced to be the object, his toy, in his own sick fantasy?” As I went on I finally came to a realization. God never really did care about me. “Do you know what God? I’ve had it! I’m through! I’m done with being his play thing and just another piece in your puzzle.” During my talk with God, I some how had escalate to yelling. “I thought you were the God of love and mercy. Everyday innocent people, children, are brutally beaten to a pulp, murdered, raped, and who knows what else. It makes me sick; you make me sick. I say you are more of the God of cruelty and cowardliness not to come down and stop this thing. “It’s over! We’re through!” Somehow I ended up sprawled out on the cool, damp concrete sidewalk.




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