Pastor Thanatos-Personal Narrative

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Echoes

Ringing of the phone echoed through the house, jolting me from sleep. Climbing out of bed, groping blindly for the light switch. Shoes in the middle of the floor trip me, and I fall. The phone clangs again. It is down the hall, on a stand. An inner voice screams something has gone terribly wrong. Feeling the wall, I find the switch, and flip it. The phone becomes visible, and I stumble forward. Still not fully roused I pick up the phone. “Hello.” “Hello, this is Pastor Thanatos. Is this Edward?” “Yes, can I help you?” “There has been an accident with your youngest brother, Mark. He died at the scene this evening.” This must be a wicked dream, but my heart says it is true. Baby brother has died. I stand in silence, holding the Oracle of Death.
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An argument with my girlfriend’s mom, and stepdad, over their keeping her away from me for a week. Of course I did not say it that way, instead I told them that punishing her on account of a younger sister was unjust. Nevertheless, I knew my true motivation. Teen years are brutal, and it is a wonder any survive. My world had terminated when I she dumped me. That was why I had boarded that bus, there was no time to dress properly. Eventually, her mother had asked me to give her daughter a call. It had all been so confusing. First a girl dumps me, next, her mom that dislikes me, requests I call her daughter back? “Mark, I do understand how crazy girls, and their mothers are.” The cadaver’s head fell forward. Thankfully, it did not detach itself though. The silence that followed was reminiscent of being in a library. Mark finally broke the silence. “I guess I did create a mess.” His words are frightening. What happens if the dead feel guilty? Maybe they would be damned for eternity in hell, something my Christian upbringing was not clear about. He was my brother, and in spite of a mistake condemning him to hell was unthinkable. “We need a plan to fix everything,” I

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