She looked up when I walked in. Bruises lined her face, her swollen eye; cracked lip. She’d been crying. I didn’t know how long but could only imagine. She huddled protectively over our son. I walked over to them both and reached out to stroke her once lovely blonde hair but she shrank from my touch. My heart ached at the sight.

My son looked up at me and I was transported back to when I was his age and I had looked at my father with the same innocence and fear. My father had been a violent drunk. We’d paid the price.

I tried again to touch her and this time she allowed the contact, though a shiver ran through her body. She turned and looked into my eyes and started to cry. Pulling her close, I stroked her tangled and matted hair. My throat was dry. My voice hoarse, and cracked, but I forced the words out.

“I’m sorry, honey,”

It was all that I could think of to say.

She sobbed and buried her face in my chest and side.

“Your father was here again,” she replied.

The words tore at me and I voiced silently that I would make him pay. I had no idea how. Worse yet, I knew it to be a lie. I didn’t and still don’t know why I allowed him do the things he did. I just knew that I was powerless to stop him. I had tried, but he had always won. He always came and did…this…to my wife…to my family.

The memories of my mother’s screams filling our house now echoed inside my brain. They mingled with my own wife’s pleas and cries. It was at that moment that I knew how to stop my father. It was at that moment, that I realized what I needed to do. Though I had vowed that I would never do this; never take this drastic measure because my life would be forever changed. Still, he had to be stopped.

I reached inside my pocket and withdrew my phone. I knew the number by heart. I had seen it many times, had studied it but had always been afraid of making the call; talking that step. Now I would. I would not allow my father to continue his alcoholic reign of terror.

Punching the digits, I waited. My wife looked on with a mixture of fear and hope. When the line picked up, I paused for just a moment, drew a deep breath and started to speak.

“Hello,” I said. “Alcoholic’s Anonymous? My name is James Harrison, and I have a drinking problem.”

1 Comment

Posted by on December 15, 2016 in Short Stories, Suspense


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We have been doing the sameIMG_20160626_145941 thing for hundreds of years yet wonder why the world is not getting any better.

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Posted by on August 28, 2016 in Short Stories



IMG_20160626_145022How can we possibly hope to achieve world peace when money takes precedence over human life?

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Posted by on June 27, 2016 in Thoughts


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SUNRISE CITY XIIIThe problem with the current global economic system is that it fulfills a want, rather than satisfying a need. And as we see time and again, the wants of the few far outweigh the needs of the many.

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Posted by on January 5, 2016 in Thoughts


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The Question

20151129_132219Have you noticed that anytime you mention to someone that you have lost something they usually ask the same question? “Where did you lose it?” I don’t know, but I’m thinking that if I knew where I had lost it then it wouldn’t be lost.

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Posted by on December 16, 2015 in Thoughts


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20151122_142707I don’t pretend to know all of the world’s problems, but I do know that the biggest and most destructive is greed. Until we can eliminate man’s desire for, and pursuit of material wealth, we shall never know peace nor achieve our full potential.

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Posted by on December 12, 2015 in Inspirational


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If only love could become as infectious as hate, then there would be little need of armies.20151129_132705


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Posted by on December 10, 2015 in Short Stories

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