Post by Chris Lioncourt on Dec 3, 2009 19:05:17 GMT -5
It was his first night back in New Orleans. He had been away in Paris, pondering about his life, and what he was going to do with it. He knew he had wasted the last few years of his life on petty fights, and now he wanted to change, and he wanted to return to New Orleans to find the answers, he so desperately needed. There was only one place where he felt at peace, and that was the cemetary.
As he walked along the graves, looking down at the names of the tombstones, a bit of sadness came to him, as he stopped at one particular tombstone. His mother, Jospehine Torrence was laid here, a couple of centuries ago. With each day that passed by, he missed her more and more, but there was a secret that she died with, that was never told to him, or to anyone else. He had found some old letters back in Paris, in which is mother had written to his father. His father was unknown, and his name was not mentioned in the letters.
He did not know if he was still alive, or if he had died. The thought of it, drove him crazy, and his eagerness to know, drove him even more crazy. "Who was my father?" he asked looking down to his mother's grave.
As he walked along the graves, looking down at the names of the tombstones, a bit of sadness came to him, as he stopped at one particular tombstone. His mother, Jospehine Torrence was laid here, a couple of centuries ago. With each day that passed by, he missed her more and more, but there was a secret that she died with, that was never told to him, or to anyone else. He had found some old letters back in Paris, in which is mother had written to his father. His father was unknown, and his name was not mentioned in the letters.
He did not know if he was still alive, or if he had died. The thought of it, drove him crazy, and his eagerness to know, drove him even more crazy. "Who was my father?" he asked looking down to his mother's grave.
