I’m channeling what might be depression. You know, the sorts of feelings you have when you think that everything is conspiring against you, you can’t get a break or suffering one of those mornings when you find yourself arguing against yourself about whether or not it’s worth getting out of bed.
It’s one of those times when someone tells you, the sun always rises the next morning, and that is reason enough to keep going, you seriously consider having a few drinks.
At 7:30 in the morning.
I’ve had a few of those mornings in the last few weeks, and it is said, sometimes you can find the depth of feeling for a character while you’re down.
My life was going nowhere. If I took a step back and took a good, long, hard look at it, what could I say was the one defining moment?
There was no defining moment.
I’d bounced around schools till the day I decided I was not cut out to learn anything more, or perhaps the teachers had given up trying to impart knowledge. Whatever the reason, I dropped out of college and drifted. Seasonal laborer, farm hand, factory worker, night watchman.
At least now I had a uniform and looked like I’d made something of myself.
Until I went home.
My parents were distinctly disappointed I was not married with children.
My overachieving brother always said I was a loser, and would never make anything of myself. The day came when I was sick of being compared to Mr. Perfect and left home, never to return.
My ultra successful sister, married into a very wealthy family, had the regulation 2.4 children and lived in the lap of luxury, and mostly pretended I didn’t exist, didn’t invite me to the wedding, and I had yet to meet the husband and children.
I guess she was ashamed of me.
For the first time in five years, I was asked by my mother to come home for Christmas. Of all of them in the family, she was the only one who missed me.
After five years though.
I thought about it but decided against it. No point. There would be the inevitable comparisons, the arguments, then the walk out. I’d save them all the trouble This year I was avoiding going home. Besides, my work had made that decision easy, they rostered me on over the holidays.
This character screams loser from the rooftops. Certainly, he’s made a mess of his own life and probably blames everyone else for his lot.
Back in front of the words, some hours later, an idea pops into my head. The story continues:
It was 3 a.m. the end of my shift, and it was like standing on the exact epicenter of the South Pole. I’d just stepped from the warehouse into the car park.
The car was covered in snow. The weather was clear now, but more snow was coming. There was a howling wind, whipping up snow and would be fuelling a blizzard soon enough, and anyone outside would freeze to death.
A white Christmas? That’s all I needed. I hoped I remembered to put the antifreeze in my radiator this time.
As I approached my car, the light went on in an SUV parked next to my car. The door opened and what looked to be a woman was getting out of the car.
It was a voice I was familiar with, though I hadn’t heard it for a long time.
My ultra successful sister, Penelope. She was leaning against her car door, and from what I could see, didn’t look too well.
“What do you want?” I wasn’t in the best of moods, and my first thought she was here to cajole me into coming home for their amusement. Both she and my bother had a cruel streak, one that had got worse with age.
I laughed. My help? I was the last person to help her or anyone for that matter. But curiosity got the better of me. “Why?”
“My husband is trying to kill me.”
With that said, she slid down the side of the car, and I could see, in the arc lamps lighting the car park, a trail of blood.
I knew dead when I saw it, and she was dead.
But, before I could do anything about it, I felt a very hard whack on the back on my head, dizziness, and then nothing.
Oh well, yet another thriller coming up.