“I am still trying to understand who you are father.” Sces’ son asked as his father was dying; or perhaps a second or so after his death, Sces was not sure, as both sides suddenly became the same. “I never understood who you have been. I barely knew where you came from. I never had a connection to who made you, who shaped you, who hurt you as a child, who took form you, who denied you, who lied to you, who inspired you, what music you liked, what dreams you had, what fears you had, what shadows followed you, how you defined love, who you hated, who you sought to become, what dreams haunted you, who was you first love, your last love, who it was who you wanted most, who it was that did not like you, rejected you, who you ran to, ran from, who’s eyes you avoided, what you hid, what you wanted all to see, and who I was in all of this?
Short Stories
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