The One That Got Away

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I remember a time once, where I could walk into my home town and not be shunned and stoned by the locals. I was accused and convicted of a crime I never committed, and for that reason I was exiled to my property beyond the dried and cracked creek of the northern paddocks. I was branded a murderer...a scum...servant of the devil, treated with disdain and given the treatment of a blowfly harassing the rough stockman of the west. Showing my face, even after serving my time in jail would be border line foolish, and for that reason I live in solitude...I live in FEAR.

Friends? Yeah I had them; I lost a few to well more than a few mostly all of them. I was expecting a warm welcome back and my best friend waiting to pick me up from the gates of the jail but instead I got a rusted barley running taxi with who looked to be a reasonable person driving, but nothing ever turns out how you would of wanted it to, especially if you don’t do anything about it. Anyway the taxi driver, we had been driving for about fifteen minuets with nothing said accept “ where too ?”. I was just looking out the window thinking about where I go from here and remembering all things I use to do at the places that we drive past.

There was one particular place that brought back a good memory, and a lot of bad one’s to, my old high school. The place where my life was miserable, I never fitted in, never belonged, sit alone every lunch watching all the other kids playing football on the lush green grass of the field, the laughing and singing of the younger girls playing with the skipping rope and hopping along the ground playing hopscotch drawn with the silky powder of chork, numbered one to sixteen. Until one day after I had been pushed in to a pit full of thick gloopy mud that didn’t rub off and left me cold and wet to dry crusty as it eventually dried out from the warming sun after a shivering rainy day. A girl came up to me and asked “are you all right? I saw what had happened to you...
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