The Hidden Truth By Langeveld Analysis

Improved Essays
The Hidden Truth by Trent Langeveld

This is a narrative text type and is an informal piece. The target audience for the is text is directed towards young adults and adults. The purpose of this text if to bring like to a possible hidden truth amongst single parents whose other died in childbirth, I used the first person technique to bring create a more personal feeling.

This is a creative piece in the view of a man whose wife has died and he blames their child for it but realises that she is the image of his wife and his attitude towards her changes.

Badoom. Badoom. I feel a billion eyes on me, I feel the anticipation of those watching. I bend down to place the ball on the then freshly painted white penalty spot, I do my signature spin of
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My eyes take a minute to adjust and when they do I see a photo resting on the bedside cabinet next to the alarm. A photo of my wife and I together on our honeymoon. It was a photo of us standing on the beach in the sunset kissing. I think to myself ”damn that's a mainstream photo”. I roll over to kiss my wife good morning, but wait she's not there and then I begin to remember. I begin to remember the surgery table the blood the giant gash in her stomach the life machine going flat. I roll onto my back and stare at the roof the white roof stares back at me and I see her face. I quickly rub my eyes and roll over and get out of bed stretching my back and scratching my butt I walk to the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror.

I'm confused, that's not me staring back at myself he looks half dead? My hair is scraggly and long my beard is long but uneven, the bags under my eyes look as if I've just used them for shopping. I can't understand why this person across from me is, I don't understand how this could have happened, how I have become him. This has to change I can't be seen like this especially she can't see me, I look down at my fresh marble countertop and there it is, my electric shaver. I grab it and turn it on hearing the light purr as I bring it closer to my face and I'm about to start shaving when it
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In my house? I surprised trying to understand what I'm hearing why there's a baby crying in my house and then it hits me. The reason my wife was on the operating table, why she was covered in blood, why she had a giant gash in her stomach. Why she died. There was an ‘accident’ in the surgery, a complication, that the baby had caused her to die, caused her to be taken away from me. I slam my hands onto the countertop shaking everything on the counter. I turn around and walk out of the bathroom and turn to the bedroom door ripping it open, storming out to the hallway. I stand there and stare at the door down the end of the hall...thoughts running through my head, ‘It took her away from you’, ‘she's gone because of it’, it's the reason you’ll live your days alone’, and the main thundering thought of ‘I hate it!’ I start streaming down the hallway towards the door getting more and more angry starting to whisper the thoughts running through my head, ‘It took her away from you’, ‘she's gone because of it’, it's the reason you’ll live your days alone’. I stop just outside the door, it's still crying the same old tune, continuing to run through my

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