Freaks House

Finally the day had arrived. Finally the hour had come. “Finally, my last day on earth” he told himself. The wait had been excruciating, but now it was here. The day of his execution had finally arrived. “Ah! The smell of fresh air, these guys need to provide better prisons. But who cares, my life here is done. This is it. This is where and this is how things are going to end. I have no regrets, I have done nothing wrong. He deserved it, he deserve to die. How could he ever have thought he could get away with it, that guy I killed he deserved it. So what if they call me a murderer? So what if his wife is a widow now? So what if I have had sleepless night because of the guilt? I did right, or at least I hope I did.” His thoughts went on; it was the day when Pilate would release one that the people would ask for. But he knew he was not one among them, he was a criminal and the cross was already decided for him. And he had accepted it. Really he didn’t have a choice; the concept of for...

Everyday was the same. The same long walk. The same walk that yielded nothing. It was a walk that made her think. It was a walk that made her curse her life. ‘I should have just stayed with the first guy. Why did I ever leave him?’ she thought ‘What a mess? Went searching for pleasure and look at me, what have I made of myself? I used to be so beautiful when I was young. I thought I could rule the world with my looks. Always thought my body would be enough for me to survive on this earth. But now it’s all gone. I thought I would never have to thirst, I thought life was going to be easy. But now I thirst and hunger, nothing satisfies me. What have I made of myself?’ After five husbands, more aptly put after living through five broken marriages, not many of us would have the will to survive, but this woman was still surviving. If it was not bad enough to have been in five broken marriages, now she was in a ‘live-in’ relationship, could things be worse? She continued to walk. ‘Ah! ...

Slowly he approached the place he once called home. Questions raged within him, questions he thought he knew the answers to. But secretly he hoped the answers he knew were wrong, secretly he hoped for acceptance, secretly he hoped for love. ‘But doesn’t hope always disappoint?’ Thoughts collided in his head, they multiplied, they divided, but never did they add. Everything around him screamed ‘Turn back!! Don’t make a fool of yourself!’ He sat down on a rock close by; he had made it to the lane that would lead to him to his father’s house. ‘Should I go in?’ he questioned himself and his thoughts continued ‘I guess I shouldn’t. Which father would accept a son who has wasted everything the father had given him? If I was the father I would not accept a son who has done what I have done. What a mess have I made! Why? Oh Why? Did I squander everything? My father gave me half of what he had worked for his entire life and look what I made out of it. I have destroyed it, blown it away to ...