Noble Man.

[MusicMyLife]

I look at him, his moustache perfectly cropped, I look at him, his yellowish skin, he is a shadow of his former self. He looks back at me and smiles, he then switches off the television and turns his attention to me. ''There is never anything educational, or worthwhile on that television, just a load of reality shows'' I nod at him, agreeing, he is right. The TV world is corrupted, and the man before me should be the spokesman.

The man that I speak of, is my Father, a noble man, bed ridden and crippled. Although he's terminally ill, he still speaks fluently about life and its upheavals and wonderments. ''You know son, life is what you make of it, if you're sad, then life will walk along sluggishly'' I nod again, I take in this knowledge like a computer.

My Father smiles again. It might be a fake smile, a smile that he puts on just to ease my worries. But I'm in a state, my eyes are red due to sleepless nights, my skin ragged, my heart matted in pain. When you see a dying man it's cruel, but when you see the man that is your Father, then it's more than that. I feel like I must do something to eradicate the spell that my Father has been put under, but I've no devices or miraculous tools to abort the spread.

''It's time for me to go Dad'' I say with a my heart in my mouth, with worry raining on my mind. I hate leaving him, but he's in good hands. My Aunty Margaret has taken my Father in, his house abandoned, but he's to sick to even contemplate running a home. I hug him gently, like a little child hugging a toy bear, I don't want to cuddle into him hard, in case I add to the agony. ''I'll see you tomorrow Dad, I promise'' He lifts his hand and waves goodbye, I do the same with compassion and tender love gliding my veins.
I walk from the house, into the cold, my warm body starts to rattle but I stroll up to the pavement heading to my Nana's house.

I make it to the house, out of breath. I open the door slowly and I shut it without making any real sound. I walk through to the hall, and I hear the news at ten blaring from the living room. I walk in and I look at my papa glued to the screen, his eyes don't divert, he's fixated. But with all of the obsessive compulsions, comes a conversation. ''Hi Mark, How's your Father?'' my Papa says with concern. ''Just the same Papa, just the same, his skin is so yellow, he's so gaunt, and I'm sitting here helpless'' ''You're only fourteen years of age Mark, It's a lot to take in, go get some rest'' I nod my head at my Papa and then I leave him to watch the remaining minutes of the news.

As I walk up the staircase, I begin to think of my Father, I'm interested to know what he's thinking, his thoughts on death, his thoughts in general. I walk into the bedroom on the right, where the bump beds are, I don't take off any garments, I just lie under the covers and I curl up, I look at the patterns on the wall, and then I close my eyes. I can picture my Father's wholesome smile, but I also see his gaunt face, he's isn't a picture of good health, and there is nothing I can do about it.

As I begin to fix my eyes, my Nana shouts up like a solder shouting orders. ''Mark, It's your Dad on the phone'' her loud voice wakes my ears. I uncurl myself and walk from the bedroom, down the stairs and into the hallway, I lift the phone and speak softly ''Hi Dad'' ''Hi son'' ''What's wrong'' I reply. ''Its just, I can't carry on, with this disease crippling me, I'm helpless, and not fearless, I'm scared, so damn scared'' ''I'll come down and see you Dad, as I promised'' My Dad begins to cry, and it is eye opening, it's the first time in my short existence that I've heard my Father breakdown, he's always held back the waterworks. His tearful plea will go unanswered, the devil of the disease is laughing and I can't halt it, or break it, or dethrone the creature of evil. I'm helpless as he cries down the line, I begin to weep with him.

''It's okay, I promise Dad, it'll be okay'' I weep my heart out, and he does too. ''No it won''t, I'm going to die and there is nothing I can do, oh why me, why me'' The phone call ends. I wipe away the strolling tears and I try to stand like a man rather than a little boy, but I'm too attached to my emotions.

I put my jacket on and I say goodbye to my Grand-parents. I walk out of the house into the cold crisp morning, the sun tries to shine, but it's the frost that steals the show. I look at the sky, I wonder if there is a God up there, I wonder if there are angels gliding the skies. I just wonder where I'm going to get the strength, I wonder how I'm going function in the aftermath. I start walking in the direction of my Aunty Margaret’s.

I walk into the ragged kitchen, and I take my coat off. Margaret welcomes me. ''He's not very well this Morning, I don't know if he 's sleeping'' I go up the stairs and into the room where my Father lies. He's reading a book, my Father always read, he educated himself through the art of books, his prowess, his intelligence mastered. But with all the intelligence, he had to leave School early to support his Mother. He could have been a teacher.

''Hi son'' my Father says in a soft tone. ''Hi Dad'' I reply in a worried fashion. ''How's things'' ''Just the same son, they've put a bag in me, so I don't have to go to the toilet, so I'm permanently bed ridden, I feel crippled, I feel incompetent'' I am in complete shock, my Father's independence has been taken from his grasp, now he just looks half alive. There is no wholesome smile, just a glum expression. I look at him closely, his eyes yellow like two suns, his skin peeling, his hands, he's skin and bone.

''I don't even watch that thing any more, it annoys me, it adds to my pain, just plain stupidity, corrupted politics, overpaid politicians'' My Father shakes his head, he seems enraged, and I just sit here and listen to his squabbles. But I don't care if he's angry or resentful towards the television, I just savour the time I have with him. He's never been one for the screen, he only used to watch the news and a few comedies once and a while. I remember watching comedies by his side, we used to laugh relentlessly, those times will never resurface. ''When I go son, don't cry, this might have beaten me, but I'm still your Father, and I just don't want you to cry, I want you to go on and make something of yourself, be credible, be someone'' My Father looks at me and then shakes his head once more.

My Father falls asleep, I cover him up and I leave the room. I close the door gently and I make my way down the stairs. I look in on my Aunty Margaret, she isn't watching her usual programmes on the TV set. I walk into the living room and I hear the ticking clock , it's very loud and very haunting. ''You Okay Margaret'' ''Yeah Mark, I'll be fine'' ''Okay'' I say with concern. ''I'm just going now, Dad's asleep'' She doesn’t reply.

As I walk in the door to my Nana's house. I can hear three voices, a man's voice which I am certain is my Papa's, and two female voices. I start to piece together what I hear, I am now certain my Mother is home. I walk through the hall, I take a deep breath, I turn the handle and open the door. There she is, in all her cigarette glory. ''Hi Son, how are you?'' she rises from the couch and hugs warmth into my chilled bones. ''Yeah Mum, I'm okay'' ''How's your Dad'' ''Just the same, his grip on life is loosening''

My Mother lowers her head. Even though her and my Father fought like wild animals, she still showed a sense of sentimentality. ''You're getting so big and tall'' she says with shock. She looks at me for a second, and then sits back down to drink her coffee. I stare at her, I see her oiled skin due to her 40 a day cigarette habit, her curly hair, her old style leggings, she's still the Mother I can remember, I just wish she could execute the demons that have built an empire in her head, If I could get into her mind, I would break the stronghold.

As I sit on the couch next to my Mother, she says to me, ''You're coming to stay with me, would you like that?'' as those words entered my head, I thought to myself that disaster will rear its ugly head once more. My Mother wasn't the conventional type, she wasn’t a housewife or a goddess, she couldn't run a comfortable home, it wasn't in her blood. There was many times before where I thought this is it, my Mother is healed, but I was just thinking too hard. The first few weeks would be okay, then she would fall into a slump, the patterns in her make up would change. She was mentally ill, and she suffered.

I get ready to leave my Nana's house. It's is time to enter the 3rd house on the block, a house where my Sister was brought up in. But I feel unease, I feel I need a sign, that everything will be okay, that life hasn't been too tampered with. ''You grab the bags from the car'' my Mother says with authority. I grab the black bin bags from the boot of my Papa's car, I give him a kiss on the cheek, he wishes me well ''You'll be fine, your Mother will be fine, It just takes time'' I nod my head as my Papa gets into his car, and drives off, I wave in discontent. ''We'll be fine, I've bought you some food, and there is the TV for you to watch'' I look at my Mothers smile, It's the first time in a long time since I've seen her wear one. ''Okay'' I say with a soft tone.

As the night comes, I'm sitting looking at the stars. I wonder why they're there, I wonder who put them there. I wonder to myself why they tell you to pick one. Is it because that's the star that will represent you when you die? I think too much, and it hurts my head. I move away from the window, and I begin to hear my Mother talk on the phone ''How am I going to tell him?'' I swiftly run down the stairs and I say loudly ''Tell him what?''


My Mother hangs up the phone and she turns round with tears strolling down her face, ''I'm sorry son, it's your Dad, he's gone'' I look at her for a moment, all my thoughts contain a picture of my Father's helpless face, I can't hear nothing, I go numb. ''I'm sorry son, I really am'' there is a chap on the door, my aunty Margaret walks in, distraught and filled with deep pain. She looks at me and gives me a hug, I look back, tears belting out my eyes like a loud stereo player. ''He was a good man, I know you never got to see him at the end, but he loved you, he loved you and your Brother, he really did, he put up his hand and waved goodbye to me, he knew it was time'' I run away from Margaret’s arms and up the stairs and I look at the stars, the brightest one is my Fathers I'm sure of it.

[soccerjlp]

What a sad story you've crafted! You did a really nice job of conveying the pain felt by the author, as well as the hopelessness felt by the father. I thought you had a really solid ending, and I especially liked your final line. Your content was easy to relate to. You had some very nice details! Grammar is definitely an issue with this piece. Overall, very emotional story!

[AnIdeasman]

Your use of description and metaphors really help in depicting a sadness that I have been very familiar with. I like the way your story builds in intensity and then peaks in the conclusion. The reality of it seems almost unbearable, yet it is not an uncommon situation. This made for an engaging and satisfying read. Thank you for sharing this well-crafted story.

[ladylilith]

I read this, and it made me ache. There is something really scary about finding out that your parents are only human too. Whenever that might happen, the moment the parent leans on the child, shows those tears, that fear, it's terrifying, and as you put here, a real 'eye opener'.

I could relate to some of this on such a personal, and somewhat painful, level.

Really great use of dialogue. You might want to put each sentence of dialogue on separate lines to make it easier to read, but that's only a trivial thing. A really well written piece. Full of real emotion, it's hard not to feel the effect of it.

Lily^^

[Josie]

You wove your story realistically, and Narrator revealed his feelings so vividly, that I am still feeling the salty sting from my tears. I liked the way you had his family all around him and expressed the condition of divorce as a natural living situation, a true environment for the majority of children growing up today. Narrator was a good listener and showed empathy instead of anger that his world was less than what he would have liked. Despite the circle around him, you were able to show how God alone he was as he tried to maintain his relationships and grieve over the impending death of his dad. Congratulations on the TPS Spotlight

[JASON]

I read the whole thing, it was wonderful and sad...
emotionally charged and real - congratulations on the spotlight.

[inflames]

This is a tragic write, so sad. I like the little details of the son's memories of how his father was. I like that he was choosing to remember him that way, rather than focus on his dad as "sick". Heartbreaking write, but a good one. Congrats on your spotlight.

[LorettaYoung]

Truly a wonderfully penned story; Flowing and rife with emotions and the pain of loss. You made the feeling real, but still is testament to your Father. Congratulations on the spotlight. Best Loretta

[everhopeful]

This is a really emotive read, I think you managed to strike the right balance between descriptions of the protagonist's emotions and the seemingly more minute things going on in his and his father's life. Obviously we know this wasn't going to have a happy ending, so it helped to appreciate some of the happier times experienced by them set against the tragic story.
Congratulations on the spotlight.

[Dew]

Congrats on the spotlight MML! You are getting even further behind in commenting! Please comment on some other peoples works!! Thanks! - dew