Stories Better Kept Untold: "The Fact of God"

This is not a story of heroic adventure, this is not a story of damsels in distress, of good triumphing over evil. These are the stories too horrible to bear, these are the Stories Better Kept Untold.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm sorry about running off, I felt like I had to get away from the environment I was living in. I have a humble place to stay, and am taking my medications regularly. It's long been time for me to move out and make a life for myself. I took my car across country with some money I had saved up from previous jobs. I landed a position at a mental health clinic. I started doing odds and ends, and the nurses there helped me get on Federal assistance programs. They gave me a (very) part time position assisting, doing patients laundry and cleaning up tables before and after meals. Who would have thought a libertarian like myself would be on food stamps? Oh well, life is full of ironies.

Love you Mom and Dad,

-Blake

"And you haven't gotten any kind of contact information?" Asked the detective.

"He never mentioned where he was going." Said the father.

"We didn't know he was planning on leaving, he just disappeared one day, we've gotten these letters every few weeks or months. He never mentions where he is. We got a private detective to track him down. He said he was alive and well." Said the mother.

"We believe the private investigator mislead you, he uncovered the truth about your son but decided to respect his wishes over yours, he had kept the fate of your son a secret until he told his girlfriend the other night." Said the detective.

"Why are you sad?" Asked the mother.

"We believe your son is dead," said the detective.

"When did this happen?" Asked the mother.

"Your private investigator tracked down the location of your son's car and came across his body a few months ago, but according to initial forensics, it appears the body has been there for more than four years." Said the detective.

"We have letters! You must be mistaken, he wrote us just last week! He met a wonderful woman named Claire. We worried he would never find a woman. They go on dates together. She has a wonderful sense of humor. You have to find this woman Claire! He describes her as being tall for a woman and having long blond hair," said the mother, now shaken, her voice quivering.

"There is no Claire. He wrote those before his death. We've tracked the letters to an automated online mailing system. We have made copies of all subsequent letters. He'd written over a hundred letters before his death all detailing a fictional somber life. They're scheduled to be mailed to you over the next 22 years. We have them here in case you want to take a look. We recognize you may feel uncomfortable reading these and our department psychologist recommended we not make these available to you given how sensitive the material is. However they do belong to you, under the law," said the detective.

"Why would he go through all the trouble of doing this? Why would he not just kill himself like anyone else?" Asked the mother in disbelief.

"He left a note by his body which might give you some closure" said the detective before handing her a blown up photograph of a laminated paper over a pile of bones.

To whomever has the misfortune of crossing this path,

I hope my remains didn't disturb you. It is my dying wish to remain here in peace as long as possible. I assure you my death was a suicide and there is very little mystery to uncover. I wish for my body to remain here. I hope you can respect my wishes. Please do not attempt to uncover my identity, I went through great lengths to keep it a secret.

To further discourage you I want to tell you my purpose for doing this. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia, everyday is a struggle for me and I don't want to burden anyone, especially my family, I realized that the news of my suicide would also burden them, so they must not know.

An automated lettering service is sending my family messages about the fictitious life I would be living, in order to give them hope about my life. If they ever find out what has become of me, I fear it would be a revelation too devastating to ever recover from. Please respect my wishes.

Blake's mother was in a hysterical rage, "detective you are either confused or a liar. I think you are a confused liar. We don't want those awful papers. When Blake sends us a letter then we will read them. I don't know what your purpose is for being here, but you are not welcome in this house. Take those letters with you. Get out." Blake's mother screamed while her husband hugged her "Get out!"

Blake's father raised his voice to the stunned detective

"Let me get this straight detective; you come into my house and you want us to believe that my son killed himself because Margery and I made our son feel like a burden? I know my son and he would never feel that way. You want me to believe that he wrote to us about Claire, his first love, in order to give us peace of mind? Can you imagine what it must have been like for him to write about her like that? That’s how I know it to be a lie, because point to me a story so cruel, point to me where an author is so cruel to his character. There isn’t any. No God would allow it. That is a fact! All you have is some bones, I have the fact of God!" Mr. Hudson's mouth made a sad grimace "Detective, get out! You're not welcome here."

A few weeks later the detective walked up to the Hudson family home, now just a deluded mother and father to a dead son. On their front yard was a sign like those you would see on a political activist's front yard. The sign did not promote a political candidate, it said; "OUR SON IS ALIVE!" and it had a picture of their son. It was the topic of why the detective felt the need to speak with them. The father, Mr. Hudson opened the door with a t-shirt which bore an image of his son with with a blond haired girl and Mr. Hudson informed the detective that he was still not welcome in their home and would never be.

The detective had gotten information that the Hudsons had contracted a photographer who was charging enormous sums of money to photoshop images of their son and was passing it off as evidence to Blake's father and mother that Blake was still alive. No one dared to confront them about it. When people found themselves around the Hudsons wearing shirts of their deceased son talking about his latest written adventures, people couldn't help but cry for them. This bothered Mr. and Mrs. Hudson and they became more and more reclusive. Mr. Hudson's employer suggested that he work from home and he still got his paycheck which he spent and then some to see more pictures of his dead son.

The detective, having failed to confront the family, had the strong sense that he never should have confronted the family in the first place. The private investigator who uncovered the truth about their son was right; it would have been better to keep Blake's death a secret.

Author's Note

This is a story designed to be as depressing as possible.

Reviews

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

very well written and enjoyed it, even though depressing, thanks so much for your entry into my competition a few months ago, sorry for the late review and judging, good luck and thanks.