Excerpt: Untitled

You look into a large marble basin of water, wanting to fling it across the room to let go of your rage for just a little while. And you ask yourself: What the hell am I doing here?

The answer is quite simple. You are forced to live the life of a nobleman because your father wills it so. Are you not man enough to stand up to your creator? Can you not show him who you really are? You feel the need to knock him around for once in your life; you feel the need to let your father know that there is more to you than just his woman-devouring son.

Yet you stare at your reflection with anger clouding your eyes and you fear him. Even after all these years, even after beginning your training as a Jedi Knight – you fear your father.

Now isn’t that kriffed up?

You step away from the basin and rake your hands through your hair, closing your eyes and fighting for a breath that will calm your nerves. The more you breathe, the more pictures assault your mind. You see yourself as a little boy wanting comfort from your parents. You’ve hurt your arm and you’re gushing blood on your fathers’ precious white stones in the foyer of their villa. Your nanny droid fetches the nurse but you don’t want the nurse’s comfort – you want your parents. Either one of them will do, you tell yourself. Yet deep down in your warm heart, you know that neither one of them will come.

The nurse tells you that your father is in a meeting and your mother has taken ill. Your mother is ill often in your young life and at one point you thought it was your fault because your father kept telling you what a naughty little boy you’ve been.

You stand in the foyer, screaming and crying because the pain is so great. You can barely feel your arm, barely feel your tears streaming down your chubby little face. You remember the crimson pool beneath your feet and you remember walking through it, conjuring up bloody footprints. The nurse forces you to hold still as she quickly examines your arm and then you’re ushered to the medical bay.

You remember your father coming to visit you while your arm still hurts. You expect him to smile, you expect him to hold you and comfort you but instead your dearest ever-loving father sneers at you. He complains about the mess you’ve made, he complains that the cleaning crew – including two new droids – are still busy cleaning up the blood you so carelessly spilled.

And this is the father you want to look up to? This is the man you are afraid of?

What the hell is wrong with you?

You leave the ancient fresher in the villa you’ve come back to visit. Your mother is ill again and she has asked for your presence. You love your mother – she means the universe to you because, even when you were scolded with your father’s so-called love, when your mother was well, she held you. Your mother sang to you and read you stories when you were a little boy. She drove back nightmares with a kind word and a loving gesture. Your mother is a kind soul at heart and she deserves nothing more than your complete loyalty and kindness in return.

Your mother’s chambers lay on the other end of the grand villa. You walk through the carpeted corridors, staring at the ancient paintings of your family heritage, at the large statuettes flanking the doors to your father’s study.

You stare at the large double doors and ask yourself if you should enter. He sits only a few feet away, the man that has managed to break you on so many levels. You have the chance to tell him what you think of him, to tell him how you feel. You have a choice to make.

Which will it be?

Which decision will you make? Will you turn your back on him again and let his shadow rule you for the rest of your life or will you finally be the man you think you are and pass through those doors to give the man calling himself your father a piece of your mind?

You listen to your heartbeat, counting in your mind, debating what to do. Why do you let fear cloud your judgment? Have the Jedi taught you nothing?

You remember the last time you came face to face with your father. The day he banned you from your home – the first time you ever had the guts to face him. You remember barging into the meeting room with a bloody torso and back. You had ventured to the village, after spending hours and hours in the ancient archives, skimming through old papers and heavy books. Treasures to your people. You remember an old leather bound volume with an ancient language you could hardly decipher. The symbols are beautiful to your eyes. You sully the book by ripping out a page about demons and you hurry into the village to find someone who would be willing to permanently ink your skin with the demon symbols.

When it was done, you sought your father. You showed him and his followers the son he had bred. A rebel Jedi trainee scarred with dark red demonic symbols. And why? Because you felt like it. Because in the height of juvenile stupidity you marred your body only to annoy your father. You remember laughing at him as he called his guards to escort his own son from the villa. And you never came back. Not until your mother begged for your presence because she had lost hope of ever recovering.
So what will it be? Will you face him?

You take a deep, quivering breath and step forward. Your sweaty palms touch the doorknobs and you push the double doors open. The study is dark and smells musty. A large desk stands in front of you, a small candle lit. Your father is not present.

You finally show courage and he messes it up by not being there to see it…tsk tsk…poor you.

You turn on your heel, your Jedi robe flapping in the air as you hurry down the corridor. You ignore the stares of your father’s working personnel as you hurry to your mother’s private chambers. You are angry with yourself and this anger fuels your need to see your father – you want to hurt him but you know that you can’t. Because you are not your father. You do not take pride in knowing that others cower before your feet. You are a decent human being and you are proud of being so.
But your father’s shadow will haunt you for the rest of your life if you do not face him.