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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021
Weekly Contest #236
When I was 16 years old, my dad killed himself, not in the way you’re thinking though. It wasn’t with a gun, or a rope, or drugs. It was slow, and it was painful. And it took him years, and it wasn’t always intentional, but he did it. Every day I think to myself, how could he treat his body like this? He has two kids, a wife, a normal yet exciting job in a career he is passionate about. Had. He had all that. He was fifty-two when he died. The day is seared into my brain like a brand on an animal. The hot iron of June twentieth torches...
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