Free, at last!

He’s lost everything; everything that he ever had; everything that he ever loved. And now, he walks around the city streets day and night, a man full of sorrow, thinking of the past; a past full of joy and laughter, forever gone. He thinks about the dreadful years that followed his times of happiness, and about a youth exploding into pieces by the hand of destiny. And he thinks of his present state; a state of despair, and quietly weeps. He thinks and he remembers. His mind’s eye is alight with memories; about his lovely loving wife; about his beautiful little daughter; about the friends that one after the other let him down. Once he was a dreamer, now he lives in a nightmare.
    He feels like a rag. His life is of no importance at all. Oh yes, he feels like a rag that he would like to set on fire; to burn all his troubles and sorrows away. No more worries, no more anxieties, is all that he asks for. He wants to forget, and be forgotten.
    “Where was I? Where am I going? Who am I?” he wonders as he wanders into the narrow dark side streets of the big city, where only the children of the night, the women of sin and sorrow, still seem to have a life.
    “I myself am nothing but a whore,” he thinks aloud, staring at the women that stand alone and idle at the street corners, waiting for some customer to show up. “I’m even worst than a whore. They only sell their bodies, but I have sold my soul.”
    He sheds bitter tears. “Why? Why? Why?” he keeps asking himself but of course receives no answer. Only one of those great and almighty invisible gods could explain to him Why; they could maybe make him understand the reason, the reasons, why his daughter and wife had to die, killed by a hit and run car that rushed them to meet the angel of death. “How unfair!”
    Since the very day they died he’d taken on drinking. Alcohol took over their place in his heart. As for a home, he now lived in the streets, a bitter life; he’s a friend with the vagabonds and the damned. He sold everything he had and became a bum by choice, a drunk who was killing himself little by little, day by day. No, alcohol didn’t help him forget, but at least it soothed the pain just a little bit; it made it more bearable. And it gave life some color; it made it look somewhat better in his wet and sorrowful eyes.
    A world created by angels he once thought that this one was. Now, it is a world full of pain, and in the middle of all that pain, he stands alone. No matter how much he drinks, no matter how bad he treats himself, his sad thoughts never leave him. “I must put an end to this joke of a life, I must find serenity,” he thinks quietly, tiredly.
    His feet lead him once again, despite himself, at the exact point were all those years ago, his life was blown into pieces, the place where the bodies of his loved ones lay before leaving for the home of no return, six feet under. His face looks like a stream flooding with hot shameless tears; his eyes burn and his vision blurs. “The End!” he cries out and runs blind into the street. A passing lorry abruptly shutters the thread of his life into pieces, and sends the now happy man, smiling wide into the underworld, to meet his loved ones. He is free, at last!

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Martha's Drama. A short story

She was crying for days on end. She had lost the one she loved; her one and only beloved. Since the day he died her whole world has started falling apart, her life has lost every meaning. Her restless mind and her embittered soul couldn’t really comprehend the awful truth that she now had to live with. Why did he have die? How could he do that to her? It was unfair, it was painful, and it was wrong; so wrong.
    Before she met him she used to say to her friends and close family that what she really needed was somebody to love! Yes, she needed someone and she repeated it monotonously just like that old Queen favourite: “I need, somebody to love. I need, somebody to love. Somebody, somebody, somebody to love…”
    It was not long before she found that special one and from that day on her life became more colorful, her being acquired essence. He was exactly what she hoped for; tender, caring and sweet, and always willing to listen to what she had to say. In a word he was perfect. Johnny was. From day one he made her feel happy; she was always with a smile on her face when sitting next to him. Just his being there made her feel like a princess in an imaginary kingdom, where she had everything she wished for, but most importantly: “Somebody, somebody, somebody to love…”
    During their, alas, brief time together they’ve managed to live a lot of beautiful moments; moments of happiness and serenity, of beauty and true love. Martha thought that nothing, absolutely nothing, could ever separate them; that they were made for each other. For her, having Johnny by her side meant, that she’d never be in pain again, never ever shed a tear of sorrow.
    At nights, when he was asleep she used to lie awake for the longest of times just staring at him. He looked so beautiful, so little, so weak, just like a child, her child. But of course a child he was not, he was her beloved; the one she always dreamed of. So when he suddenly and quite unexpectedly died she felt like losing the world beneath her feet. “At least he didn’t have to suffer for long,” she told herself. He got sick and died at almost no time at all; as if his life was but a little candle blown off by an invisible whisper of the wind.
    There were not many people at the funeral. Just a few close friends and her family. It was as if he did not ever exist in the eyes of other people. As if his life and death were of no importance. Martha cried and cried, like an old widow, for many days, non-stop. She had lost her beloved. How could she ever get over a pain that, like a furious fire, consumed her soul?
    “I need, somebody to love. I need, somebody to love. Somebody, somebody, somebody to love…” she started thinking and grievously singing once more, but where could she ever find again someone like him, someone who loved her for who she really was?
    As time passed and she wouldn’t stop crying, all the people close to her, or most of them anyway, started feeling pretty nervous, even furious at times, when she was around. Her endless weeping, the pain and the tears that were always streaming wildly out of her eyes and over her smooth pale face, were more than they could handle. For how long? For how long, would her heart belong to yesterday? And when would she at last manage to understand that life does not begin and end at a person? And when would she start smiling again? That’s what her parents wondered; but not for a single moment did they stop hoping that time would eventually heal the wounds. But it didn’t. Day after day Martha seemed more resigned from life, free of hope and joy. Their lovely daughter now looked like she was falling apart. And they knew that there could be but one solution to her problems; she had to find somebody to love. So, after they discussed the whole matter thoroughly between them and reached a decision, the poor and desperate mother - who was on the verge of a nervous breakdown - headed for the girl’s room to break the good news to her. But when she found her crying and raving like crazy she just couldn’t take it anymore; she exploded; but that explosion sounded like sweet music at her daughter’s ears. “Martha, listen to me. Listen to me, Martha. Marthaaaaaaaaaaa, shut the fuck up. Shut up! We’re going to buy you another hamster!” On hearing the good news the little girl lifted her cute and teary head from the pillows and gave her mother the sweetest of smiles, an angel-like one. Oh yeah, at long last, she would once again have, somebody to love. “I’ll have, somebody to love. I’ll have, somebody to love. Somebody, somebody, somebody to love…”

Image taken from here