It has been six months since ma mother had a seizure and cracked her head on the kitchen floor and I was pulled out of school to pay the bills. I didn’t think ma miserable life could get any worse but that day proved me arrogant. Life sure as hell got worse. Despite the efforts of her doctor she came home in a half coma like state. Now things can’t get any worse right? WRONG. Everything became two times worse. Three months ago today my father disappeared. No trace of him has been found. I like everyone else presumed he was dead. It’s not difficult to make a body disappear off the shores of Ireland. If you were wondering, me and ma family moved over to Liscannor, Ireland two years ago from the states. I fought em tooth and nail about the move but they just wouldn listen. Now I’m here writing down these memories, ma last attempt to repent for all the bad things I did. Now yah might be wonderin what a kid could have done that was so bad it still haunts me at a ripe ol age.

On June 15th 1963 I made a decision that I’ll always regret. I went into town to try and get ma mind off a things. The problem was, by then I was famous. Hell, with all the s*** that had happened to me and ma family. Anyways, I went into town wearing a hooded cloak to not draw attention to me. I had been sittin at a table outside the town’s small café for about… oh I can’t remember anymore but let’s jus say about 15 minutes. So as I’m sittin there a couple of “gentlemen,” as they like to call themselves, sit down at the table behind me. I always hated rich snobby people. Well they sit down and I turn my head just enough to get a glimpse of em. The one facing me catches ma eye. He looks me up and down and wrinkles his nose at the sight of my tattered clothing but he obviously didn’t know it was me for his next words kept me from gettin up an sockin ‘im in the face.

“Michels have you heard the rumors?”
“How should I know what you’re talking about?”
“Do calm down, we don’t want our wives catching us quarreling again.” “I am talking about Mr.Yansle”

“Oh? Really? Has there been new development on the matter?”
“Kind of.”
“Well don’t keep it all to yourself! Do tell.”
There was a pause as the other man seemed to be gathering his thoughts.
“Well I heard from my banker that Yansle had a grand amount of gold and money in his private vault.”
I choked on the apple I was eating. I muted my coughs and splutters at best as I could and continued to listen.
“Really? Where is it now?” Michels seemed quite a bit more interested now that there was money involved.

“No idea! Apparently it just disappeared over night. But let me tell you this, Yansle’s old friend Ivor seems to be quite a few coins richer these days.”

I couldn’t process all the things that he said. I stumbled through the front door that night and collapsed on my bed. It’s weak frame couldn’t take it any longer and with a resounding crack the whole thing collapsed to the floor. But I was too numb to notice. I just lay there thinking. Where did that fortune come from? Why did we never see any of it? We had always been fairly poor and at some times really could have used some more money. I was so mad at my father for not telling me, for not helping his family.

I think I went a little crazy that night.

After that everything was just a haze. I woke up the next morning and made ma way to Ivor’s house. As I neared the house I could see a shiny new Mercedes parked in the driveway. I clenched ma fist in anger and loudly rapped on the door.
“WHO THE F*** DO YOU THINK YOU ARE BANGIN ON MY BLOODY DOOR AT THIS HOUR!?”

The door flew open and there stood Ivor. His face was red and angry but as soon as he saw it was me standing there his eyes flittered and his face turned pale almost instantly. Realizing his composure Ivor stood up all proper like and regained some of the color in his face.

“Tom. What a surprise. I had been meaning to go visit and see how your mother is doing. Do come in”

“Uhh, thank you.”
He lead me into his living room and sat me down on a pleasantly upholstered recliner.

“Pardon the mess he murmured.” As he picks up one of two mugs of tea on the table.

“I was having tea with a friend last night but was too tired to clean up.” Ivor nervously chuckles.

But as he carried it away I saw a puff of steam drift out of the cup. Someone else must have just been there and not wanted to be seen. It made me uneasy. I quietly walked to the door. As soon as I was there I flung open the doors and headed for the hills. As I looked over my shoulder I could see a Volkswagen speeding away. Why did I not go straight home? Maybe I felt more at home on the hills by our house or maybe I was scared to go home.

I sat there on a stump picking at the tall grass that grew all around. It was starting to get dark and I needed to get home to ma mom. As I started down the hill I heard two shots fire. Ma heart skipped a beat and time just seemed to stop as I hurtled down the hill. Speeding away from ma house was that very same Volkswagen. I was almost home now but I could see smoke streaming from the holes in the roof and I could see light dancing behind the grimy window panes. By the time I reached the back yard most of the house was engulfed in flames. I fell to ma knees crying. I knew my mother’s body must be inside burning.

For hours I just lay there crying. The night seemed absolutely silent. As if it was morning for me. When I finally stood up I walked like a zombie towards the shed. I pulled the door open and felt my way along the wall till I found my dad’s gun safe.

“6, 16, 9,4,27”
The lock clicked and I pried the safe door open. I grabbed a hand gun, checked that it was loaded and pocketed n extra magazine. In what seemed like moments I was once again walking up to Ivor’s house. I snuck around back and looked for a way into the basement. I figured it was where Ivor would hide ma dad’s money and gold. I approached a door that seemed promising.

With a terrifying amount of squeaking the door opened.

Stairs lead down into a very deep cellar.
I shined my flashlight along the wall looking for a light switch.
Click
The walls were lined with good wine. Everything there but one or two dusty old bottles were newly purchased. Anger continues to well up inside me. I scanned my surroundings looking for where Ivor might hide something. I found it odd that the ground was covered in sand. It was a pure white sand, and, for a brief moment I was mesmerized by the way the sand sparked. As I looked I noticed one section that had no footprints and was probably smoothed out by the broom hanging on the wall.

I got down on ma hands and knees and started to brush away the sand. About three inches below the sand there was concrete. I continued to move the sand out of the way.

I flinch away and stifle my curses.

I looked down at my finger. A large splinter was stabbed into it. I had found an old trap door. But suddenly I heard a lot of movement from upstairs. I moved back around the corner and turned off the light. Bringing the gun out of my jacket pocket I turned off the safety and waited. Footsteps could be heard moving towards the stairs that lead down from inside the house. A door opens and I hear Ivor’s voice.
“If someone is down here you better get the hell out! I’m not afraid to shoot you!”

The lights came back on.
I hear a gasp and the sound of rapid footsteps moving down the stairs.
“Son of a b****!”
I quickly glanced around the corner and saw Ivor hurrying to removing the sand from over the trap door.

“Please still be there” I hear him whimper. It seemed as if the prospect of losing his stolen wealth scared him so much he forgot someone might be down there. I hated this man so much but I couldn’t bring myself to kill him.

“Oh thank god…”

I look again. The trapdoor is open and I can see the reflection of gold pieces.

“I would have killed that stupid f***ing Yansle for nothing if some b**** had stolen you.”

That was all I needed to pull the trigger.

I jumped out from my hiding spot.

“F*** YOU, YOU MURDERING SON OF A B****!”

I fired every single round into his body. It seemed to fall in slow motion. Every new bullet making it jerk back just a little bit.


I am writing this from the third floor of that very house.

After I moved all the gold n money up stairs I buried his body down in that hole. Filling it with the sand that covered the floor. A week later I put a new layer of concrete over everything and sealed off that trap door. I looked through all his legal documents and forged a suicide note that left everything he owned to me because he felt so much remorse for killing ma father.

I have lived here ever since.

End.