Death of a Paradise

November 11, 2011
By johnpaulbz BRONZE, Private, New Jersey
johnpaulbz BRONZE, Private, New Jersey
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

[Enters lone man into dark room. A look of disparity haunts his face as he sits on a small child’s bed and looks out the window to the darkness of a rain storm.]
Man: How could one man simply endure this much catastrophe?
How could a single soul even fathom what has become of my life?
What could I have possible done to have the cruelty sent onto me?
In what way have I angered the heavens that they have cursed me with such an atrocity?
Have I broken a Commandment? Have I committed a sin in a previous existence?
Or am I simply just a victim relative to that of Job?
Yes! Of Course! It has to be this!
Why else would a man of my blessings be cursed with such misfortune,
Unless the Almighty himself is simply casting lots with Lucifer?
My words weren’t always filled with such self-pity and sorrow.
There was once a time when I stood with my head high.
I floated on the clouds and my cares drifted away.
Every evening I returned home from a day of Oncology.
With a smile on my face, I entered my sprawling three-story mini-mansion.
I placed my hat on the coat rack and was greeted by my young and beautiful bride.
Her dark black hair flowed gently passed her glittering green eyes.
She met me with a gentle kiss and had a homemade meal at the ready.

My two beautiful babies joined us at the table as we began our grace.
Conversation would be typical and basic.
We discuss Kenny hitting another home-run, as someone passes the bowl of potatoes.
I find out Tina got a perfect score on her spelling test, then go in for a second plate of brisket.
That night I would go to bed feeling safe and secure, with the comfort of knowing my loves,
The people I cared for more than my own existence, were laying soundly in their beds.
For years, I spent day after day taking advantage of the sweet asylum of my life.
The cycle would continue daily without any thought of how blessed I truly was.
The spiral began slowly, taking its time to crush me into the land I once flew high over.
The home that once built me had turned to ashes and taken its most prized possessions.
My mentors and guides had been brought down by the flames of a Red O’Keefe,
The same model that had faithfully served me my meals for my first nineteen years.
Sorrow filled my household, but the news that would be delivered six full moons later,
This news, would be far more shocking and untimely.
The parasite that I have spent my life fighting had finally found a way to seek its revenge.
This cranial malignant mass gave young Tina a death sentence at the young age of twelve.
With such hideous news plaguing her mind, my Deborah found a new better half
His name was Sam Adams, and he was served best cold following nine hours in hell.

Why did I let Deborah bring Kenny to practice when I knew she was under such pressure?
When the examiner called me in to his lair, I told him the cold woman lying was not the beauty I married.
The woman that lay had hair cursed with dullness and skin that would give Jack Frost chills.
How could this have been my beloved that once glowed with such radiance and shine?
As for the other aboard, I could not yet bring myself to see my boy in such destruction.
I sit here at my lowest point, alone in the derelict castle I once called home.
Though my heart aches with pain, it must remain safeguarded from view.
For if my young love were to see me in such a state of tribulation,
The last thread of hope that she clings to will be forever torn.
For if there is one thing I hope occurs from these travesties,
I wish only that my daughter pass knowing her pain was not shared
And that through even the worst of times, one can still live with hope and joy in their life.
I must depart from this unsanctified prison, as a patron of St. Jude calls my name.

[Man exits room slowly, but stops by the door. He picks up a frame and looks carefully at a picture of a life that once was. Tears begin to run down the man’s eyes as cradles the frame against his chest]

The author's comments:
Written as a short soliloquy for my Freshman English class.

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