The Tortured Soul

Life was hard and he had lost all that mattered first his mother who was murdered on her way home. He watched his Dad unable to cope with her loss fade away to skin and bones a relief when he passed on. His wife walked out on him with their three children leaving him with a pile of debts and a broken heart. He lost his job for too much time off with no reference and soon he would lose his house to the bank and divorce. Now the final straw he was terminally ill and in pain constant debilitating pain that sapped away his strength. Lining up the bottles he poured out a healthy sized drink and placed the pills ready in rows, with six in each pile. Putting on a selection of his favourite bands he hunkered down, settling himself as comfortably as possible this last thing in his own hands, he got to chose. Not the illness he would beat that by his own choice, for him death no longer held any fear. Sipping, swallowing he washed down the pills until none remained. After all enough was enough and he had nothing left to lose. As he drifted off he dreamed of better times now past and gone Soon he was walking in pleasant green pastures, ahead he could see. His parents waiting with smiles on their faces and open arms a vivid bright light that burned his eyes and yet welcomed. He walked through the veil with eager steps to perfect peace leaving behind without any regrets, the empty husk of his body.