The Day My Father Died

Rain, pitter pattering along the roof
My father
In his armchair, his men surrounding him

They were dressed in black, holding ak-47’s
While my father was sweating,
They remained perfectly calm and cool

The signal came

A flare,
Shot from the woods,
Over the lake

The red flame,
Disrupting the calm morning,
Bringing it into chaos

My father said,
“It’s time to go”
And we walked outside,
In 10 degrees fahrenheit
Onto the frozen lake

Then I saw him,
The figure on the other side
In a large black overcoat
He was alone

My father orders me, and his men, to remain behind
Then puts the revolver in the back of his pants
And walks out on the ice

My father is holding a bag
Full of money
I assume

Him and the other man meet each other
In the center of the lake
They talk for a while
And then my father hands him the bag

The figure opens the bag
Looks inside
And then starts shouting

My father argues back
And it’s clear the argument is getting serious

Then, I saw my father whip out the revolver
He fires not at the man, but at the ice
All around them

The ice was thin
It cracks
And they both fall in

I run across the ice, along with my father’s guards
Suddenly bullets start flying from the trees
But I continue running

I make it to the hole and look down
There my father is wrestling with the man
I can barely make them out

But then the fight was over
And the two men sank into the lake
And the bag was nowhere to be found

Then a bullet pierced me
It hit me in the cheek
And flew thru my head

I remember that day
And every time I must make a deal
I now do it on
The Ice





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