WARNING: This novel contains stuff like violence, sex scenes, homosexuality, talking squirrels and the like. [Okay, maybe not the last one, but you get what I mean!] If you are sensitive to this, please either
1. Get over it
or
2.Don't read it
Thank you
One
{I}
On the evening of December 7, 1853, Percy Andrews was awakened by a knock at his door.
“Who is it?” he groggily shuffled his feet as he headed towards the door.
“Is this Mr. Percy Andrews?”
“It is.”
“I bear an important message for you, Mr. Andrews. May I come in?”
Percy opened the door to behold a man dressed in a blue constable’s uniform, standing at the doorway.”
“Mr. Andrews,” said the man at the door, “I am Inspector Donald Carver, of Scotland Yard. And I am the bearer of grave tidings, I’m afraid.”
“Oh.”
“May I come in?”
“Sure.” Percy went to the back of the room to light a candle.
After the candle was lit, the inspector walked into the room , staring around at the mess of papers on the desk by the fireplace and the wrinkled sheets on the bed on the other side of the room.
Percy walked over to the table and sat down at one of the chairs, “You may sit.”
The Inspector came over to the table and sat.
“Sorry, the place is a little bit of a mess.” Said Percy.
“What are these.” Inspector Carver examined one of the papers on the desk.
“I am a writer. That is one of my manuscripts.”
“Are you published yet?”
“Not at the moment, but I have sent my manuscripts to several serial magazines around London.”
The Inspector’s brow furrowed, “Enough on that subject. It is my duty to convey to you a message.”
“What’s that.”
He sighed, “Tonight, at eleven o’clock, your father, Mr. Marcus Andrews, was found dead at the docks.”
“Dead?” Percy’s lip quivered
“Yes. He was found by one of the sailors, while he was unloading cargo. He says he was just carrying a box off the ship and he saw your father’s body in the water, floating.”
“He drowned?”
“Yes. We believe it was a suicide.”
“Suicide? That is not possible.” Percy could feel the tears coming.
“We have no people with a motive to kill him.”
“What if it was an accident?”
“People don’t just fall off the docks when they’ve been working there half their lives.”
“He was a dock worker. ”
“Exactly. That’s why we think he killed himself.”
All of a sudden, Percy burst into tears, bawling as the reality sunk in that his father was gone.
When the tears stopped, The Inspector put his hand on Percy’s shoulder. A distinct coldness and cruelty was evident in Inspector Carver’s eyes as he said, “I am very sorry for your loss. It is as much of a loss for you as it is for me. Your father was a dear, dear friend of mine.”
“He never told me that.”
“He didn’t tell you a lot of things.”
“Like what.”
The Inspector chuckled slightly, “You must’ve not seen your father for a long time.”
“It’s been years.”
“years?”
There was a pause.
Percy broke the silence, “My father and I weren’t exactly on speaking terms most of the time.”
{II}
Percy was deeply wounded by his father’s death, even though he had very few happy memories of him.
When he was about 3 years old his father was out working by the docks, a place where he spent most of his life, and ultimately was the place of his death. He had been crying for his papa for about an hour, wailing and crying until the landlord came up and beat on the door with a cane. Percy had developed a strong affection for his father, being that he was the one to be taking care of him while his mother was at her factory job, and he was the one looking for one.
His mother pulled a syringe from the cupboard, and allowed it to pierce Percy’s little arm.
Instantly Percy felt a shock of numbness shoot up his arm and spread to the rest of his body, and as the drug took its effects, he entered a dreamlike haze.
The next thing that he remembered, his father came home, and he was very angry about something, Percy couldn’t remember what. He carried a whiskey bottle under his arm as he came in.
There was screaming. As the argument escalated Percy’s father took the bottle and smashed it on the table. He leaped on Percy’s mother and started to scratch at her face with one of the shards of glass, tearing at her flesh as he menacingly cried, “You like that, bitch!?”
Everything after that was a blur.
P.S Sorry, it's short. But in the meantime, tell me what you think!
