The winds were harsh, everyone scampered for shelter. Few minutes later, right on cue, the rain came pouring down and the streets became empty in an instant. People ran into stores, under makeshift coverings, or even inside their parked cars but there I was, trudging along the lonely road, under the heavy rain and harsh winds. I felt the weight of people’s stares on me but I could care less about what was going on in their minds.

I’m back to my place and instead of taking a hot bath or lying under the duvet like a normal person would, I’m sitting in front of my table, about to open my laptop to get back to work. How could I act like a normal person when my dreams are finally about to be realized? I open my phone and read the email, just to be sure it’s real. “We love your work and would love to collaborate with you on a project” How could I be concerned that a bunch of random people stared at him for walking under a heavy downpour? The joy that comes when you’re at the cusp of a breakthrough will make you forget the harshness of the weather conditions around you. I have to complete this story before I go to bed, it might be my best one yet. 

Lying on my bed with the light off, my thoughts take over and the memories come pouring down, like the rain from earlier today. I remember that day like it was yesterday. I just got back from school and I ran into the house excitedly but something seemed off. The house was silent, like something bad had just happened and indeed, something bad had just happened. My dad had just been arrested for alleged murder. All the evidence pointed to him, to the extent that one would seem daft to insist on his innocence, Further investigation by the lawyers revealed it was a setup by the powers that be, but there was no solid proof. A really powerful person wanted to put my dad away and nothing could be done about it. My dad’s last words before he was executed, “Write my story, the way you want the world to remember me”. It always hurt me to this day that I had to watch helplessly while my dad died for a crime he did not commit but what could a 12-year-old boy do? My dad was my biggest motivation and he was always there for me, despite his busy schedule. He was a government official. As I grew older, I realized that he probably saw something he shouldn’t have seen and the bad people decided to get rid of him before he opened his mouth, or maybe that’s the story I wrote in my head, the way I wanted the world to remember my dad. 

I was stigmatized at school, the son of a murderer. The insults turned to physical abuse and i had to move far away from where I grew up. I went to stay with a distant relative. Fast-forward a few years and it was hard to get into the labour market. That record, the son of murderer haunted me for years. No one wanted to hire me, I was suffering due to the “sins of my father”. Depression struck and that’s when I started writing. My reality haunted me and I used my words to create a reality in my head where everything was fine. I went from being a happy child to being a frustrated adult who only found joy when creating characters in his head. 

Life became better. I wrote few stories as a ghost and my anonymous social media account had begun to gain popularity. Just tonight, my biggest writing inspiration sent me an email, commending my work and offering to work with me on my next project. I took my dad’s advice. I wrote stories, the way I wanted the world to remember him, and me.