Scene+5

arturo 1 draft
====After hours of walking Christopher finally reached his house. He didn’t know what to do. He was confused of all what had happened in the church. Christopher was angry with himself and with his brother, but he didn’t know with how to be angree.==== ====As soon as Christopher entered his house he started throwing every thing to that floor cursing his brother and himself. First came the vase that was from the girlfriend his brother killed. //puf// “ I hate my stupid brother.” Then the all the clay plates he had. //Pam, pim, pum.// “ I hate this I had to be with my mom when she needed me.” Christopher continued like that all his way until he reached the kitchen. There he found an enormous bottle of whiskey.====

Christopher drank it all and the next thing he remembered has when he woke up in the middle of the cemetery where his parents where buried.
Arturo 2 draft After hours of walking Christopher finally reached his house. He didn’t know what to do. He was confused of all what had happened in the church. Christopher was angry with himself and with his brother, but he didn’t know with how to be angry. As soon as Christopher entered his house he started throwing every thing to that floor cursing his brother and himself and everything he though of. First came the vase that his girl friend had gave him, which his brother killed. //puf// “ I hate my stupid brother.” Then the all the clay plates he had from his mom. //Pam, pim, pum.// “ I hate this I had to be with my mom when she needed me.” Christopher continued like that all his way until he reached the kitchen. There he found an enormous bottle of whiskey. Christopher drank it all and his world went black. he walked and talk but he didn't know where he was until he fold on the ground. arturo 3 draft

After hours of walking Christopher finally reached his house. He didn’t know what to do. He was confused of all what had happened in the church. Christopher was angry with himself and with his brother, but he didn’t know with how to be angry. his mind was in blaming his brother, but his fillings wanted to forgive him. As soon as Christopher entered his house he started throwing every thing to that floor cursing his brother and himself and everything he though of. First came the vase that his girl friend had gave him, which his brother killed. //puf// “ I hate my stupid brother.” Then the all the clay plates he had from his mom. //Pam, pim, pum.// “ I hate this I had to be with my mom when she needed me.” He knew that what he was doing was wrong, but it was the only way he how to get read of his anger.Christopher continued like that all his way until he reached the kitchen. There he found an enormous bottle of whiskey. Christopher drank it all and his world went black. He ran drunk to the only place he felt secured. the cemetery with his mom. Arturo 4 daft. Will Christopher was crossing the entire town to get to his home he thought over what had happened in the church and who’s fault it was. He was so confused that he was angry with everyone. The only way he could thought how to get better was to forget everything and the way that he was going to forget everything was by getting drunk. So Christopher went into the closest liquor store, and he lift up his hat. With the little money that he had under it he bought all the liquor he could. In tow seconds Christopher was already fighting with everyone in the store. So the owner of the store kicked him out, but that didn’t stopped Christopher. He continued fighting with everyone, until he confessed a guy and instead of kicking the weakling guy in the corner he kicked the buff guy of the circus that was visiting the town. Harry, the buff guy, kicked Christopher ass so hard that it send him to the cemetery. Christopher ended so scared after his travel in the air that all his drunkenness despaired, and the only place he could go near to fill safe was right on front of the grave of his mother.

Folke Scene 5 The man advanced, warily, through the menacing gargoyles. The Cristopher was walking through had very little light, and soon it would have no light as it was twilight. Christopher walked into a liquor store just kicking the door out of the way. He stomped into the store, his eyes sqimmed through the stores shelf. He found what he was looking for at the3 fourth shelf, as he walked twords it he had no regard for eny one in his path. He picked up 3 bottles of whiskey, paid and left the store. Christopher opened the bottle with his teeth and, eager to get all his frustration out of him, began to drink, on gulp at a time. Christopher walked to his girl friends house, hoping and praying that it had all been a dream, that his girl friend was at her home, waiting for him to come. He arrived at the white building,already very drunk, it’s beautiful rose garden had shriveled and died without any care. He opened the door, hands trembling, Cristophers eyes opened as he sow his girl friends body laying there like a stone. Christophers blod boiled, he could’t take it, he lost control over his body, every thing whent black. Yey, he was still moving, he was destroying everything in the house. The fourniture, the painting, anything he found, he broke. Folke second draft: The man advanced, warily, through the menacing gargoyles. The Cristopher was walking through had very little light, and soon it would have no light as it was twilight. Christopher walked into a liquor store just kicking the door out of the way. He stomped into the store, his eyes sqimmed through the stores shelf. He found what he was looking for at the3 fourth shelf, as he walked twords it he had no regard for eny one in his path. He picked up 3 bottles of whiskey, paid and left the store. Christopher opened the bottle with his teeth and, eager to get all his frustration out of him, began to drink, on gulp at a time. Christopher walked to his girl friends house, hoping and praying that it had all been a dream, that his girl friend was at her home, waiting for him to come. He arrived at the white building,already very drunk, it’s beautiful rose garden had shriveled and died without any care. He opened the door, hands trembling, and his gril freinds body laying dead made all his hopes go a way. Christophers blood boiled, it felt like he was about to evaporte. He had lost all that was most dear to him. His angrer took control of him. Christopher started to break all the house, all his memories, everything. As he finished, he realized with desperation what he had done. He no longer held memories in his house, he felt the sudden urge to go to the only other place where he still had memories, the cementary where his mother was burried. He ran out of his house and went as fast as his drunken body would let him to the cementary. When he got there he sat at the foot of his mothers tomb, thinking about everything that had happened to him since the day his mom died. He curled up ontop of his mothers resting place and, like he would do when he had a night mare and whent to his mother, slept beliving that his mother would make him feel beter. Folke

3rd Draft Christopher left the high shadow of the church’s bell tower, trebling with anger. He ran away from the church afraid that Livingstone would come back and kill him. Something came to his mind at that moment; something his father had taught him when he was younger. The words echoed through his mind. “Son, if someone, anyone, ever bullies you or say that they’re going to kill you and what not. The best thing you can do is drink until you puke, that way you won’t feel the knife plunging through your body.” It probably wasn’t the best advice back then as he was 11, but now it seemed like the right thing to do. He paused a moment to decide where to buy his liquor. His bushy eye brows moved in to make a frown, trying to decide which shop to go to. There were many shops going through Christopher’s mind: Wacky Willy near Elizabeth Street, Bear Garden in the middle of the neighborhood, and his personal favorite King Head bar in Gerald Street. This bar held all his favorite types of alcohol. They had anything you would ever want and more. Running, so as to get there fast, Christopher sow the light of the earth leave as day became night. When he arrived at King Head he grabbed 3 bottles of whiskey and went outside to drink them. He sat on a bench in Exbury gardens; he opened his first bottle and drain the bottle of its liquid. By the time he’d finished his second bottle, he felt very dizzy. After a while he heard a noise, footsteps, Christopher’s heart began to glaciate in fear. He asked himself, was it Livingstone, finally here to kill him, or was it the cops, coming to incarcerate him for drinking too much? Christopher quickly hid under the bushes. Though this question of his was answered very rapidly, soon a couple walked by. A tall dark haired man wearing a purple suit who looked very elegant, his partner, a beautiful redheaded freckled lady, had a silk dress looked very happy besides the man. The man leaned on his knee and proposed to the lady. The redheaded lady went down and hugged him as she said yes, then they both left. Christopher was left thinking of poor Rose, she was so beautiful and he missed her so much, he longed for her to be alive. He was suddenly met with the urge to go to Roses house and, though it was probably the alcohol, he somehow thought she was still alive. “But, how is this possible. I saw her dead. I saw what my brother had done to her.” Christopher said to himself. Yet, he could not get himself convinced that Rose wasn’t dead, so he grabbed his other whiskey bottle and galumphed to Roses house, praying that he was wrong and she was still alive. He arrived at Roses house with only one more gulp left in his whiskey. Opening the door, so his hands trembled with anticipation, he gazed at the desolate, unhappy room. He was wrong, there was nobody there. As he entered the house, memories started to flood into his mind. Memories of him and Rose, and Christopher, to his great surprise as this usually never happened, started to cry. Anger swelled up in him. //Why on earth did I come here for? I’m only getting hurt.// //I was an idiot to come hear, I knew she was dead, I have got to accept it.// He felt stupid for being so ignorant. He started to break everything, all the lanterns the marble kitchen, Roses paintings, her bathroom. Every memory he built with Rose, he broke, he didn’t want to hurt any more. When he finished, he realized he had no memories left. He had nothing to call his own know not even thoughts. He ran to the only place where he could still find memories of his own, his mothers tomb in Crows cemetery. He was breathing heavily when he got there. He sat on the marble tomb, thinking of what he’d ever done to deserve this, he felt scared and, as if his mother would protect him, went to sleep, hugging his last memories so that no one would take them from him. 4th Draft

Christopher left the high shadow of the church’s bell tower, trebling with anger. He ran away from the church afraid that Livingstone would come back and kill him. Something came to his mind at that moment; something his father had taught him when he was younger. The words echoed through his mind. “Son, if someone, anyone, ever bullies you or say that they’re going to kill you and what not. The best thing you can do is drink until you puke, that way you won’t feel the knife plunging through your body.” It probably wasn’t the best advice back then as he was 11, but now it seemed like the right thing to do. He paused a moment to decide where to buy his liquor. His bushy eye brows moved in to make a frown, trying to decide which shop to go to. There were many shops going through Christopher’s mind: Wacky Willy near Elizabeth Street, Bear Garden in the middle of the neighborhood, and his personal favorite King Head bar in Gerald Street. This bar held all his favorite types of alcohol. They had anything you would ever want and more. Running, so as to get there fast, Christopher sow the light of the earth leave as day became night. When he arrived at King Head he grabbed 3 bottles of whiskey and went outside to drink them. He sat on a bench in Exbury gardens; he opened his first bottle and drain the bottle of its liquid. By the time he’d finished his second bottle, he felt very dizzy. After a while he heard a noise, footsteps, Christopher’s heart began to glaciate in fear. He asked himself, was it Livingstone, finally here to kill him, or was it the cops, coming to incarcerate him for drinking too much? Christopher quickly hid under the bushes. Though this question of his was answered very rapidly, soon a couple walked by. A tall dark haired man wearing a purple suit who looked very elegant, his partner, a beautiful redheaded freckled lady, had a silk dress looked very happy besides the man. The man leaned on his knee and proposed to the lady. The redheaded lady went down and hugged him as she said yes, then they both left. Christopher was left thinking of poor Rose, she was so beautiful and he missed her so much, he longed for her to be alive. He was suddenly felt the urge to go to Roses house and, though it was probably the alcohol, he somehow thought she was still alive. He began to run towards Roses house, praying that he was right, and that maybe, he still had a family. “But, how is this possible. I saw her dead. I saw what my brother had done to her.” Christopher said to himself, as he neared Roses house. Yet, he could not get himself convinced that Rose wasn’t dead, so he grabbed his other whiskey bottle and galumphed to Roses house, praying that he was wrong and she was still alive. He arrived at Roses house with only one more gulp left in his whiskey. Opening the door, so his hands trembled with anticipation, he gazed at the desolate, unhappy room. He was wrong. As he entered the house, memories started to flood into his mind. Memories of him and Rose, and Christopher, to his great surprise as this usually never happened, started to cry. Anger swelled up in him. //Why on earth did I come here for? I’m only getting hurt.// //I was an idiot to come hear, I knew she was dead, I have got to accept it But, it was all Livingstone. It’s his fault that Rose isn’t hear. O how I wish I could hate him. He disserves to die for what he did.// He felt stupid for being so ignorant. He started to break everything, all the lanterns the marble kitchen, Roses paintings, her bathroom. Every memory he built with Rose, he broke, he didn’t want to hurt any more. When he finished, he realized he had no memories left. He had nothing to call his own, not even thoughts. He ran to the only place where he could still find memories of his own, his mothers tomb in Crows cemetery. He was breathing heavily when he got there. He sat on the marble tomb, thinking of what he’d ever done to deserve this; he felt scared and, as if his mother would protect him, went to sleep, hugging his last memories so that Livingstone would never take them from him.

Ivan: ** 1st draf ** Cristopher walked for hours and hours until he got to his house. Cristopher was full of rage inside of him because of the death of his girlfriend Rose. He was so full of rage that he started destroying everything in his house and all the thign that would remember him of Rose. He started by destroying the thing in his room then he went down stair and destroyed the kitchen and on he went destroying all of his sorroudings of his home. When he was tired he went to the destroyed kitchen and got a half full whisky bottle and golped it down his throat. Then he got drunk and went outside of his house and walked until the sun was rising and fell asleep in the cementery were his mom and dad were burried and soon his girlfriend would be.

** second draft ivan- **
===** Christopher walked for hours through the misty roads after he left the church with rage in his heart. Christopher was full of rage because he had already lost his mom, his girlfriend, and now he just lost the priest, and might lose his brother. He was ready let all this rage out of his heart. When Christopher got to his house he went straight down to the basement that was full of spider webs, this place gave him the creeps but he didn’t really care in this moment of his life, and grabbed a bottle of whisky and a mallet and ran back up stairs. When he got back up he aimed the mallet directly to the thing that remembered him of rose and broke them in to smithereens. Christopher got tired and drank all the whisky in one gulp. He didn’t know what to do so he went outside and cried out “why Livingstone, why.” After a while Christopher felt he was alone in this cruel and lonely world so he when to where his mom is buried and lied down next to his mothers grave and fell asleep. ** ===

= ivan 3rd draft = ===**Christopher walked for hours through the misty roads after he left the church with rage in his heart, he was lost he did not know what to do or where to go. He decided to go to his house and maybe try to find a way to get the rage in his heart out of him. Christopher was full of rage because he had already lost his mom, his girlfriend, and now he just lost the priest, and might lose his brother. He was ready let all this rage out of his heart. When Christopher got to his house he went straight down to the basement that was full of spider webs, he saw many old thing that his girlfriend and him used to use on the picnics or the camp days, this made him even more mad. This place gave him the creeps but he didn’t really care in this moment of his life, and grabbed a bottle of whisky and a mallet and ran back up stairs. When he got back up he aimed the mallet directly to the thing that remembered him of rose and broke them into smithereens. Christopher got tired and drank all the whisky in one gulp, at first he started getting dizzy because of the whisky and then all he remembers is kind of fuzzy. The only thing that he remembered was waking up the next day next to the grave of his dead mother. What happened was that he was so sad for all the events that had happened in this period of time, and they all clashed together and Christopher collapsed because of sadness. After a few hours he woke up in the middle of the street. He didn’t know where to go and the only place he knew and was near of where he was, was the graveyard where his mom is. He went and felt the presence of his mom so he felt more secure and accompanied.** ===

=== ivan 4th draft- Christopher walked for hours through the misty roads after he left the church with rage in his heart, he was lost he did not know what to do or where to go. When he was walking down the street he saw a drunken bum, the bum said,” why are you crying like a girl, jajaja” so Christopher responded aggressively and started hitting him until he was knocked up. Christopher kept on walking and decided to go to his house and maybe try to find a way to get the rage out of his heart. Christopher was full of rage because he had already lost his mom, his girlfriend, and now he just lost the priest, and might lose his brother. He was ready to let all this rage out of his heart. When he got home he went right to the basement that was full of spider webs, he saw many old things like pictures of his mother dressed with the dresses that were all tight in the hips and had a bell shaped skirt, Christopher started crying when he saw the picture. This place gave him the creeps but he didn’t really care of that in this moment of his life. Then he gathered himself and grabbed a bottle of whisky and a mallet and ran back up the stairs. When he got back up he broke everything into smithereens. Christopher got tired and drank all the whisky in one gulp, at first he started getting dizzy because of the whisky and then all he remembers is kind of fuzzy. The only thing that he remembered was waking up the next day next to the grave of his dead mother. What happened was that he was so sad for all the events that had happened in this period of time, and they all clashed together and Christopher collapsed because of sadness. After a few hours he woke up in the middle of the street. He didn’t know where to go and the only place he knew and was near of where he was, was the graveyard where his mom is. He went and felt the presence of his mom so he felt more secure and accompanied. ===

Kevin Merrigan
I waited a couple of minutes to make sure that Livingston was not going to come back in the church to finish me off. I stared down at father McKinley’s crumpled body laying on the marble room. Anger came to me looking at father McKinley. I was about to smash the window in the church but I stopped myself from doing it. This is a holy church. Better not release my anger here. I then decided that I waited long enough that Livingston isn’t around anymore. I then started to jog to my house. What have I done? I shouldn’t have left my sick mother to die. This would have never happened. As god knows it that my life would be a lot different if I just stayed and help my mother. Finally I reach my house with these dreadful thoughts. As soon as I enter my house, I went in the kitchen. There was anger building up in me. I couldn’t take it any longer. I then all the sudden kicked at the table where I eat and it slam the floor. I then open a drawer and pulled out plates and threw them to the floor, shattering into smithereens. I then grab the red soft curtains by the window and tear it apart. I was cussing at every single second while doing this. After an hour or so the house was unrecognizable. The door was hanging open by one hinge, all the windows were cracked or broken, book pages were flying around the house by the wind coming through the broken windows, and last of all I broke a picture of me and my family all together. Tears came to my eyes when I was done going berserk in the house. I decided to myself that I needed whisky to drink. This will probably make me feel better. I took a bottle of whiskey out of the basement and consumed all of it. The world started moving around me. I could barely walk two steps without falling to the floor. I decided it was time to visit the cemetery were my mom is buried. It was hard to get there, because I was feeling very tired. When I which the cemetery, it was nearly pitch black outside. I felt the chill wind blown to my back. I started moving toward the grave were my mother was buried. I started to choke seeing the grave of my mom. I started saying to myself, “It is your fault Christopher! None this would have happened if you were with your brother helping to take care of your mother! Because what you did you cost your girlfriend’s life and father McKinley!” I then felt a feeling of tiredness in my body, and in nearly a second, I collapsed on to the cold, marble ground in front of the grave of my mom.

=
I waited a couple of minutes to make sure that Livingston was not going to come back in to the church to finish me off. I stared down at father McKinley’s crumpled body laying on the marble room. Anger came to me looking at father McKinley. I was about to smash the window in the church but I stopped myself from doing it. I realize that his is a holy church I will damage. Better not release my anger in here. I then decided that I waited long enough that Livingston isn’t around anymore. ======

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I then started to jog to my house. What have I done? I shouldn’t have left my sick mother to die. This would have never happened. As god knows it, my life would be a lot more different if I just stayed home and helped my mother. Finally I reached my house with these dreadful thoughts. It was a small house; only one story high. It was painted in pale white, most of the paint becoming worn off. You could smell the wood rotting from outside the house. I then took a step toward the front door on the porch and went inside. As soon as I entered my house, I went in to the kitchen. There was anger building up in me. I couldn’t take it any longer. I then all of the sudden kicked at the table where I eat and it slammed to the floor. I then open a drawer and pulled out plates and threw them to the floor, shattering the plates into smithereens. I then grab the red soft curtains by the window and tear it apart. I lifted one of the kitchen chairs and threw it out the window, hearing the window shattered. I was cussing all the worst words I could think of. ======

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After an hour or so the house was unrecognizable, it felt like an elephant stampeded the house. The door was hanging open by one hinge, all the windows were cracked or broken, book pages were flying around the house because of the wind blowing in the house, coming through the broken windows, and last of all I broke a picture of me and my family all together. Tears came to my eyes when I was done going berserk in the house. I decided to myself that I needed whisky to drink. This will probably make me feel better. I took a bottle of whiskey out of the basement and consumed all of it. The world started moving around me. I could barely walk two steps without falling to the floor. I lay down on the messy ground for a moment to think what to do. I don’t want to stay here because the house was ruin. I should go visit my mother’s grave. Maybe I can get an idea on what to do next. ======

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It was hard to get there, because first of all I was feeling very tired. Second of all, sliding on the ground was slow going, I couldn’t walk. Thankfully the cemetery was close. I cut my knees along the way because of the sharp glass on the floor of my house. I started leaving traces of blood where I crawled. When I which the cemetery, it was nearly pitch black outside. I shivered when the windblown to my back. All I can hear in the cemetery were the crows saying, “Ca, ca ca.” With those noises dying away by the wind blowing like a tornado will come. I started moving toward the grave were my mother was buried. I started to choke seeing the grave of my mom. I started saying to myself, “It is your fault Christopher! None this would have happened if you were with your brother helping to take care of your mother! Because what you did you cost your girlfriend’s life and father McKinley!” I then felt a feeling of tiredness in my body, and in nearly a second, I collapsed on to the cold, marble ground in front of the grave of my mom. ======

Kevin Merrigan (Final draft)
Christopher waited a couple of minutes to make sure that Livingston was not going to come back in to the church to finish him off. Christopher stared down at Father McKinley’s crumpled body lying on the marble floor. To Christopher, this image looked wrong to him in a holy church. Seeing the lasers that had pierced Father McKinley, by going through his clothes and making a bloody hole and stain, he was shocked. His eyes were wide open in terror. Then a blinding light came through the stained glass window in the center of the church. Its light shined on Father McKinley’s body, like God was coming down from heaven to take his body away. Christopher stared up to see what the light was, and it turned out that it was the rays of the sun that was setting at the horizon. Christopher then decided that he had waited long enough that Livingston would not be around anymore. Christopher then started to jog to his house, recalling all the things that had happened. Thinking to himself, Christopher thought about all that he had done. He thought of how he had left his sick mother to die. Also he thought of all the other deaths of the people he most cared about too. Although, Christopher was praying to himself about all the things he had done wrong, his mind told him that praying does not solve all the bad things you have done. As God knows, Christopher thought to himself, that his life would be a lot more different if he had just stayed home and helped his mother. Finally Christopher reached his house with these dreadful thoughts. It was a small house; only one story high. It was painted in pale white, most of the paint was wearing off. You could smell the wood rotting from outside the house. Christopher then took a step toward the front door on the porch and opened the door. The door creaked as Christopher went inside. As soon as Christopher entered his house, he went into the kitchen. There was anger building up in him. His hand was closing up into a fist. Christopher couldn’t take it any longer. He then unleashed his wrath and all of the sudden kicked at the table where he ate and it slammed to the floor. Christopher then opened a cabinet and pulled out plates and threw them to the floor, shattering the plates into smithereens. Then Christopher grabbed the red, soft curtains by the window and tore them apart. Then Christopher lifted one of the kitchen chairs and threw it out the window, hearing the window shatter. He was cussing all the worst words that mankind has ever known. After an hour or so, the house was unrecognizable; it looked like an elephant stampeded the house. The door was hanging open by one hinge, all the windows were cracked or broken, book pages were flying around the house because of the wind blowing in the house, coming through the broken windows, and last of all, there was broken picture of Christopher and his family all together. You could also smell the fowl scent of alcohol in the air from the broken wine bottles. Tears came to his eyes when he finished going berserk in the house. Christopher then decided that he needed whisky to drink. Hoping that a bottle of whisky would make him feel better, Christopher slowly advanced towards the basement, reaching his hand desperately, looking for a whisky bottle in his whisky collection. As soon as Christopher got a hold of the whisky bottle, he consumed all in that very minute. The world started moving around him, Christopher, who was hiccupping and could barely walk two steps without falling to the floor, lied down on the messy ground for a moment to think what to do. For now, Christopher would probably want to get away from his ruined house. He then thought that he should go visit his mother’s grave. Maybe he thought that he can get an idea on what to do next. It was hard for Christopher to get there, because first of all he was feeling very tired. Second of all, sliding on the ground was slow going; he couldn’t walk. Thankfully the cemetery was close. Christopher cut his knees along the way because of the sharp glass on the floor of his house. He started leaving traces of blood where he crawled. When Christopher reached the cemetery, it was nearly pitch black outside. He shivered when the wind blew against his back. All you could hear in the cemetery was the crows saying, “Caw, caw, caw,” with their noises fading away in the wind, which was blowing like a tornado would come. Christopher started moving toward the grave were his mother laid buried. Choking, Christopher approached his mother’s grave, sobbing with every approach he made towards his mom’s grave. “It is your fault Christopher! None this would have happened if you were with your brother helping to take care of your mother! Because what you did you cost your girlfriend’s life and Father McKinley!” bellowed Christopher, as he started banging his hard on the ground. Christopher then felt a feeling of tiredness in his body, and in nearly a second, he was collapsed on to the cold, marble stone that was in front of the grave of my mom.

Kevin Merrigan Fourth Draft
Christopher waited a couple of minutes to make sure that Livingston was not going to come back in to the church to finish him off. Christopher stared down at Father McKinley’s crumpled body lying on the marble floor. To Christopher, this image looked wrong to him in a holy church. Seeing the lasers that had pierced Father McKinley, by going through his clothes and making a bloody hole and stain, he was shocked. His eyes were wide open in terror. Then a blinding light came through the stained glass window in the center of the church. Its light shined on Father McKinley’s body, like God was coming down from heaven to take his body away. Christopher stared up to see what the light was, and it turned out that it was the rays of the sun that was setting at the horizon. Christopher then decided that he had waited long enough that Livingston would not be around anymore. Christopher then started to jog to his house, recalling all the things that had happened. Thinking to himself, Christopher thought about all that he had done. He thought of how he had left his sick mother to die. Also he thought of all the other deaths of the people he most cared about too. Although, Christopher was praying to himself about all the things he had done wrong, his mind told him that praying does not solve all the bad things you have done. As God knows, Christopher thought to himself, that his life would be a lot different if he had just stayed home and helped his mother. Finally Christopher reached his house with these dreadful thoughts. It was a small house; only one story high. It was painted in pale white; most of the paint was wearing off. You could smell the wood rotting from outside the house. Christopher then took a step toward the front door on the porch and opened the door. The door creaked as Christopher went inside. As soon as Christopher entered his house, he went into the kitchen. There was anger building up in him. His hand was closing up into a fist. Christopher couldn’t take it any longer. He then unleashed his wrath and all of the sudden kicked at the table where he ate and it slammed to the floor. Christopher then opened a cabinet and pulled out plates and threw them to the floor, shattering the plates into smithereens. Then he grabbed the red, soft curtains by the window and tore them apart. Next, he lifted one of the kitchen chairs and threw it out the window, hearing the window shatter. He was cussing all the worst words that mankind has ever known. After an hour or so, the house was unrecognizable; it looked like an elephant had stampeded the house. The door was hanging open by one hinge, all the windows were cracked or broken, book pages were flying around the house because of the wind blowing in the house, coming through the broken windows, and last of all, there was broken picture of Christopher and his family all together. You could also smell the fowl scent of alcohol in the air from the broken wine bottles. Tears came to his eyes when he finished going berserk in the house. Christopher then decided that he needed whisky to drink. Hoping that a bottle of whisky would make him feel better, Christopher slowly advanced towards the basement, reaching his hand desperately, looking for a whisky bottle in his whisky collection. As soon as Christopher got a hold of the whisky bottle, he consumed all in that very minute. The world started moving around him, Christopher, who was hiccupping and could barely walk two steps without falling to the floor, lied down on the messy ground for a moment to think what to do. For now, Christopher would probably want to get away from his ruined house. He then thought that he should go visit his mother’s grave. Maybe he thought that he could get an idea of what to do next. It was hard for Christopher to get there, because first of all he was feeling very tired. Second of all, sliding on the ground was slow going; he couldn’t walk. Thankfully the cemetery was close. Christopher was crawling like a spider. Every person who passed by Christopher on the old street, gave him odd glances. One gentleman with a top hat in a very expensive suit, tall, elegant and holding a cane walked past Christopher. The gentlemen then commented to Christopher, “How dare a filthy rat crawl down in front of me!” The gentlemen then went past Christopher and kept muttering to himself bad comments about Christopher. Christopher was quite annoyed that everybody either kept staring at him, or ran away from him or commented how rude it was for a person to crawl on the streets. Finally after a horrible time crawling on the street, hiccupping as he went, Christopher made it to the cemetery. When Christopher reached the cemetery, it was nearly pitch black outside. He shivered when the wind blew against his back. All you could hear in the cemetery was the crows saying, “Caw, caw, caw,” with their noises fading away in the wind, which was blowing as if a tornado would come. At the cemetery stood a few hundred, old bright white pedestals sticking out of the ground. When Christopher was scanning the area for his mother’s grave, he found his mother’s grave which had a few flowers in front of the pedestal, which were put there at the funeral a few weeks ago. Christopher started moving toward the grave were his mother laid buried. Choking, Christopher approached his mother’s grave, sobbing with every approach he made towards his mom’s grave. “It is your fault Christopher! None of this would have happened if you were with your brother helping to take care of your mother! Because what you did you cost your girlfriend’s life and Father McKinley’s!” bellowed Christopher, as he started banging his hard on the ground. Christopher then felt a feeling of tiredness in his body, and in nearly a second, he was collapsed on to the cold, marble stone that was in front of the grave of his mom.