My Choice!

[Desperado]

"Choices..."

A breath of cold air escapes the crisped lips of a husky voiced man. The voice familiar yet the tone dark and disturbed.

“…Sometimes they are so difficult to make...”

His jaw drops low enough to wrap itself around the flask of whiskey in his hands as he tilts his head back to drain what little remained inside it.

“…Yet be made they must.”

Leaning back against the running engine of his car, the hooded figure stares at the shadow created of his own body by the headlights of the prehistoric mustang penetrating the darkness surrounding him.

“Is it the wrong choice? What is the correct path to take? Have I thought about it long enough? Have I weighed out all my options?”

Placing his hands out before him, the lost soul studies them one at a time; squinting his eyes to see if he could make anything out of them.

“These are all questions one asks if they find themselves in a position where a difficult choice is to be made; a decision that can change life as you know it. Sometimes you know what the right decision is to take but that decision isn't the one you want to choose. And sometimes the decision you want to choose is right yet you decide to go against your judgement because you don't possess the confidence in yourself.”

Forcing himself off the ground, the theorist makes his way toward the left wing mirror of his vehicle. The hood is removed from his head revealing the disfigured face of a familiar being staring back at him. The right eye is swollen blue; his left bruised purple and a nose that is most definitely broken.

“What people fail to understand is whatever decision is made, whatever choice is taken. It isn't wrong. It can never be wrong. Mistakes don't exist… for if they did, nobody would ever make the same mistake twice. You see, I don't believe in mistakes. Not anymore. Whatever happens… it happens for a reason. Whatever decision you take, you took it for a purpose. Whether that purpose was fulfilled or not is another matter because what happened is what reality is. There are no “What ifs” because that “if” doesn’t exist anymore. If things were meant to be different, they would have… And had it not meant to be that way, it probably wouldn't. For the choices you make are what makes you who you are and the choices you make are what become your destiny.”

The door of the car is forced open and a bag is taken out from within. The contents are taken out one by one before being dropped into what seems to be a dug-up grave of a dead person. The contents include a bag of money, the deed to a house, an old watch, a pair of boxing gloves, a fishing rod, a diary, several photographs and letters.

“Your destiny isn't something to run away from, for it is inevitable. Whether you like it or not, it is going to transpire one way or another. The longer you spend running, the more difficult life will become. It is time to embrace your destiny and accept whatever choices you have made as the only ones that mattered.”

Reaching out into his car again, the vengeful man takes out an old bottle of wine and a canister of gasoline. The collectors wine bottle is forced open and the liquid dropped on the coffin top until empty from where it joins the items that had already been dropped in. He takes one last look at the contents that now laid upon the wooden coffin beneath it with despise etched all over the expression on his face. The canister fillings are laid bare onto the memories of the buried soul. No remorse shown for the act that was being carried out.

“However, sometimes your choice is taken away from and the choices placed in front of you are no longer yours to make. They are merely decision you have involuntarily accepted, in which case, your destiny wasn’t chosen by you but forced upon you.”

There was hatred in his voice now, hatred and rage. He lets the canister drop into the grave as well before jumping into his car, closing the door behind him. The window is then rolled down as he produces a box of matches from his glove department.

“Sometimes it is better to bury the past and move on. That is a choice that I made so that my destiny could be forged by my own hands. The decision I made wasn’t morally acceptable. It was the worst crime I ever committed. But it had to be done and I must live with it for it was my own decision. I’m not going to run away from it. I accept it…”

Lighting the match in his hand, he lets it drop into the open grave.

“…It was my choice!”

The car with the number plate D359 RDO roars, leaving a cloud of hateful dust as it exits the graveyard. As the smoke clears away, the gravestone becomes visible.

Here lies:
-SAMUEL JAMES DANIELS-
17/06/1954 – 05/05/2013
A "loving" husband and father,
"Despised"
May his soul "rest in peace"
"Burn in Hell"

[Sublime]

*claps*
Excellent and an utter joy to read. Very moving.

[Desperado]

Thanks Lyz! ^^ My first promo in forever.