My father pressed the steely cold butt of the gun into my hand and whispered, "kill me, please".
The notorius murderer of the Mississippi Mag. was standing here in immoral despair with a purifying wish of death by his own son. The shotgun lay in the pure arms, but the drop of the moment froze time in a way. As i go for the hug assuring dear love i whisper
"Murderer or father, rather looking for light or living in shame a light will always shine as long as you live, live for me, please".
Lights come on with a cheering crowd in tears of joy. A standing ovation for the tear jerking play starts up and seems never ending. The whistles and cheers compliment every aspect of the finale. Bowing to all the crowd the curtain closes.
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