A Hero Dies Tonight

imasmeasmecanbe

T’was the night before Christmas, it could have been the day after or maybe even mid-June, my memory no longer serves me, it comes and goes with sobriety, I am master of nothing but my mind. The time and date is unimportant, the details even more-so. All you need concern yourself with is how I got where I am today, on the eve of something historic.
Born in to a broken home, in a one bed roomed flat I was a chain smoker by ten and a fully fledged and unashamed alcoholic before I had blown out sixteen. I spent my eighteenth birthday in a dreary, grey prison cell and spent my twenty first inebriated beyond the point of recollection. I was and to this day remain alone in my world of dreams, where I am Judge, Juror and Executioner.
The night it all began, be it Christmas Eve or the twelfth of Never I was in the pub with my so called family who I had not heard from in months, a tradition if ever I knew one. As you very well know alcohol, “That liquor sweet and most divine”, loosens tongues and hardens nerves. One thing led to another and words led to actions, actions which led me to where I lie today battered and bruised with no place to call my home but here in the darkness of the Underground.
My story could just as easily be one I picked up somewhere along the way. My memories are borrowed and reek of pity like the overcoat that conceals the hollow shell of a body I call my own.
Bodies are weak and deceiving a mere compendium of muscles and bones could never do justice to the soul trapped therein. My body is as old and feeble as the next drunken louts but my mind powerful. I live in my mind. In here I can be whatever I want; I am the behemoth of the booming transport trade, the savior of the soulless subway stations. I am a Herculean hero whose incomprehensible histrionics save the world daily.
I shall not spend eternity in a pauper’s grave with worms as my chambermaids where they gnaw my already mangled frame. My death will not be one of desperation and hopelessness like so many I have seen before. It will be one of martyrdom and people will celebrate my life as the great redeemer of humanity long after I am gone.
These may well be the nonsensical writings of a mad-man but bear in mind that tonight in the infinite darkness and loneliness of this desolate tube station a hero dies in his own words and by his own hand. It is my will. It is done.




I entered this into a competition for young writers in the Irsh Times before christmas. The only rule was that your story had tostart with 'Twas the night before christmas. think they wanted something christmassy tho.