over the eclipse (short story) -first place in the Beauty and the Beast competition

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  • Published: 11 Apr 2017
  • Updated: 11 Apr 2017
  • Status: Complete
Kohl has been alone since two. He raised himself even though his father was still present. Kohl's life flipped upside down in high school after following the footsteps of his drunken father. Luna was diagnosed with Paranoid Schizophrenia at the age of eighteen and has been institutionalized ever since, but only recently was released. When Kohl is asked to speak about his painful childhood to a mental facility he winds up at the same place that Luna stayed at. Ever since their first coffee date, their relationship has been growing stronger than ever, but how long can their love distract them from their harsh past? This story provokes the message of loving somebody despite their flaws.


2. one

Two years before this present date I was a very flawed man. I spent my days drowning my sorrows at the local bar with a bottle of Jack. He and the bartender were the only things that kept me preoccupied after I slipped into darkness. I faced some trauma month’s prior that led me into the ultimate pit of sadness. It was not the type of depression that lasted for a day or two; it was the kind of sadness that took over your whole body. It dragged you down and locked you in bed for the entire day. It is the type of sadness that physically hurts your bones, and puts thoughts inside your head. The kind of thoughts that were ones only help from professionals could fix. I slipped into the very real dark pit of depression.


Growing up I was raised by my father alone. My mother disappeared the day I turned two, which is ironic thinking my mom would be the one to stay. Dad raised me himself for sixteen years, and he was not great I will admit, but he was all I had. He raised me to treat women the way my mother treated me. With disrespect, and neglect. I had never cared for a woman, ever; they just reminded me of how my mom did not want me. I had girlfriends in middle school until they figured out that they deserved better and left me. I consistently came home to a drunken father sobbing over his mistakes on the couch nursing a new bottle every night. I learned to do everything myself; I did my laundry, I cooked my own meals, I even taught myself things my father should have been there for. Every night I cursed God for taking my mother away from me. I stopped believing in him; he put me through a lot of shit. I found comfort in the wrong habits. I began smoking at the age of 14. Dad smoked a lot as I was growing up. Every time he was stressed out he would leave the house to smoke, which made me believe that tiny little stick would take the pain away. I discovered real drugs a couple of years later, and that seemed to get me through hard times. Soon enough being high became my new reality; I was high more than I was lucid. My grades slowly dropped until I began failing classes one by one. In year eleven I was close to being expelled from never showing up. I walked every day to the forest behind my school, and you can imagine the rest.


Teachers called my house, but my dad never cared. He said he would “talk to me about it,” but did that ever happen? No, it did not. It was not until I did not graduate in year twelve that I opened my eyes and realized my life is going to shit. I stayed back for an extra year to get my credits, so I was finally able to get the hell out.


Post-secondary I did not go to school. All of the colleges and universities I applied to declined me, considering my grades were lower than my age.  I surprisingly got a job at a fast food restaurant close to my home, and worked long hours to avoid seeing my father. Soon enough he became abusive towards me. He blamed me for the absence of my mother and told me I was the worst thing that ever happened to him. In the mornings before I left for my job, I found him outside on the porch smoking a cigarette with a beer in his hand. He apologized to me for saying what he said the night before, but we all know that you only speak the truth while intoxicated.

I showed up to work 4 out of 5 times high. It was the only way I could get through the shift. Eventually, I was caught smoking behind the building; I was fired and almost arrested. Dad beat me for the first time that night. He called me foul names while his fists contacted with my face multiple times, also telling me he hated me.


After that night the beatings became regular. He moved to places that could be hidden like my stomach and ribs. After a couple of years of not being able to fight back, I gathered the courage and hit him right on the cheek, hard. After that, I was beaten so hard I was sent to the hospital. Dad came running in with a sad face asking if I was okay; He only showed sympathy so he would not get caught. He told the nurses I was jumped, but they knew. They didn’t even have to ask me anything; they could see it on my face.


Dad was sent away that day. I was twenty-one, so I lived alone in the house of broken dreams and bad memories. At the age of twenty-four, I was the spitting image of my dad- a low life. I had no future going for me; I was just a drunken failure. It was not until I was twenty-six that I started cleaning myself up. I began to go to meetings and soon enough I was a sober, new man. I was asked to share my story at a facility for mental health, which is where I met this spectacular woman. I will never forget that magical day- I wanted to look professional, so I wore my grandfather’s suit from when he was my age. I showed up to the center recovering from an anxiety attack in the car; I was so anxious to share my story with people I did not know. A receptionist woman about my age showed me to the room I would be speaking in, which was already filled with about thirty people all eyeing me as I walked in. I set up my papers at my pedestal, and right before I began to speak is when I saw her.


The most beautiful woman that I had ever seen.


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