The Child: Entry 1

STOP

Have you read the preceding chapters?

If not then read it from the beginning

or

Read the preceding chapter...

The Beginning:

Prologue

Previously on The Child:
Prologue




     My name is Emery Delacroix and though I want to tell you a story of extraordinary events giving me a potential to earn a Nobel Peace Prize, that is something that I probably wont have the capability to achieve due to my lack of self-acknowledgement. You see, I have lived a life of loneliness--mostly by choice--that almost feels like I am running away from something. I can only express that I am not afraid of anything that will force me to run, not even death. 

     I was born as an only child and if I did have any siblings that would almost force me to turn these collections of entries to "The Child's"--or "The Children" if you are a big stickler on proper grammar. But that is not the case. I am the one and only to be so blessed to have the privilege to fall into my parent’s laps and into a loving home but as far as I can remember, that was something I never wanted. Maybe it was the feeling of dependence on another. Maybe I had to feel sufficient enough to fight for my own food. Maybe it was just born in my blood to crave being alone, either way, here I am bearing out the depths of my soul.

     My mother named me Emery because it has the meaning for mental or physical strength and bravery. I guess they wanted me to be strong willed. I've always wondered if all parents named their children to how they wanted them to be when they grow up, then I can only wonder what they were thinking if the word they picked meant killer or rapist. My mother never believed in using a word to name her child that doesn’t have an actual meaning in the English language like Phil or Joseph. Hell. She married a Joseph herself. But she never wanted my name to mean nothing. I know all names have meanings but she always said if you can’t use your name as a compliment in a sentence, then the word isn’t a word in itself. Rather to be filth clogging up the channels of our vocal chords and a waste of a human being. She then proceeded to say she could see that I have emery in my soul, and she wanted me to use it for years to come. 

     My father was always working--as most fathers do--and I rarely had the time to see him, unlike mum, who was a stay-at home spouse and I could almost wish that I had less of her but I don’t wish that anymore. For by the time I reached an age to give me a title of "teenager" my mother was lost to me. At first she lost her hearing then she lost all motherhood she could ever hold. To what I believe, doctors and officials say that she had a virus or maybe a parasite in her head that made her loose all function in her brain and eventually that same brain would be like it just came out of a blender but showing the strangest circumstances to have never left her skull and into a blender in the first place. God bless her soul. By the time I barely even got to know her, she fell through my fingers and all I could hold on to through everything she gave me was my name. 

      I never had the chance to really get to know my father after that. Depression started to consume his life and I had to learn to take care of myself. He became both parents and although he was doing all he could, I became a neglected child. But I never blamed him for any of my imperfections, he was perfect in my eyes and when everything was dropped on my fathers shoulders I knew that there was only one thing I could do to thank him for everything he ever did for me and on a fresh Spring morning I prepared the greatest gift I could ever give him....

Next entry in The Child:

Entry 2

Remember me