An innocent child growing up in an innocent home, in an innocent place, with good parents, not understanding the why, or appreciating the things to come - who knew that it was going to be this fucking hard!
As my best friend often reminds me:
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions"
I realize this to be true today more than ever before - I stand by and reflect on what has passed and what could have been:
I remember the next door neighbor, a friend, I was only 8, he was just 10, and how he hung himself apparently as a prank to play The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly in his bedroom. My cousin, Susan, an angel, dying from cancer and my stoic grandmothers tears at her graveside. My equally stoic Uncle Tommy devastated and how he carried that to his grave - she was not even 30.
Then there was the losses as a youth to motorcycles, to Phil, Diane, to all those young souls who died far too young.
To my schoolmates that have passed: to Chris, an old school friend, a talent, a musician sadly lost along the way. To my school mate who died of a heart attack at the age of 12 on the way home from school. The three boys who fell into a lake of ice and slipped under the surface never to reappear in this world. An adolescent girlfriend with her sisters moans next door as we heard her slowly, painfully pass away during the night, me, never to return - just too painful.
Friends in the Army, the Blues & Royals, the Trooper on the Herald of Free Enterprise who after saving his wife and kids went to find others on the capsized ship to save others, never to be seen again. The three who thought it a good idea to sleep under a Challenger tank for warmth, until the morning "bug-out" came too soon. The two who thought it was a good idea to traverse down the Olympic ski jump on a beer tray at midnight, never to return. Those who lost their lives, and their limbs in the Regents Park bombing, boys, men, and horses.
The Game Cock on a Sunday afternoon, saying our farewells, and "have a good trip" and all too often never to be seen again.
My cousins husband John, strung up to the bathroom light, found by my aunty, my cousin and her kids - he'd been sat in the park for a month or more after losing his job, in his suit, with his brief case in hand, never telling anyone, until it became too much to take.
The poor fucker blowing his own brains out in the Big Green Hangar in Northern Ireland, his memory wiped within days, just his porn stash and his bar tab being considered the only things of importance he left behind in this harsh world. Then the poor fuckers, two Corporals, Wood, and Howes, dragged out of their car, tortured, knee-capped, and eventually impaled up their backsides on an iron fence as their final resting place.
To Graham, the star of any party, hanged himself, cigarette sticking out of the corner of his mouth, "Brown Bread" hundreds went to see him off - silly fucker, why?
To the beautiful Seray, and all that she did for me. Her warmth, her welcome, her love, and yet she has now left this planet, alone, and I miss her everyday and see her everywhere I go - in airports, malls, restaurants, she never speaks but is always with me.
I think about all those who I have lost on my journey, prematurely, before their time, and I listen to some of the voices of today that question if my journey has been normal, or not. I don't know the answer, all I know is what I have witnessed and the pain, and my friends have endured.
What I do know is that I have a strong sense of self-sacrifice, and I would have done anything to save these souls and as I get older I know that my sacrifice to save those around me, my loved ones, and those younger is a sacrifice full of honor, and well worth the duty I feel, and they deserve.
Thank you so much for all your support, you can check out my website at www.willymitchell.com and visit my Gallery and Music section to learn more.
Willy Mitchell is an indie author, writer, and storyteller. His first title was Operation ARGUS, and then the sequel Bikini BRAVO where a group of former Special Air Service operatives enter the dark and murky world of maskirovka and discover the lengths that some people will go for power and greed. Cold COURAGE tells the epic tale of Shackleton's 1914 Trans-Antarctic Expedition and all that was happening in those extraordinary times. Book four, Northern ECHO tells the story of two boys growing up during the punk rock revolution in the north of England, and how a dark secret keeps them apart until the end. Mitchell's latest installment, is Gipsy MOTH about his Aunt Nikki, her friend, and fellow Aviatrix, Amy Johnson, and Amelia Earhart on the other side of the pond during the golden age of aviation.
Up next? SS Indigo is the story of an eclectic mix of guests mysteriously invited to a cruise on a luxury steamship around the Caribbean. The only thing they have in common is their lust for power, advancement, and wealth.
All of Mitchell's books so far are novels, works of fiction, blended with real events. For further information or how to buy his books, visit his author website: