Bohemian Rapsody

               Bohemian Rapsody

 addictions stories

bfk Creative writer; playwright; storyteller
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago

Ferdinand Reynecke wanted a soft place to land.

What he found instead was judgement for his mistakes and a reminder of a past that haunted him and ultimately drove him to the very thing he despised.

Bohemian Rapsody

I tried to close my ears but the noxious words drove through my 2 year old innocence. "You're a chop off the old block"! Carina Reynecke was the master of wrangling.

Her husband Ferdinand was too princely - a rooibos tea grower. “Come Brown” he gently prompted. I walked beside him along the Cypress trail as he relived past moments – The demon slugs hung about in villainous fervour.

Mr "Old Brown Sherry" Reynecke had pissed and pooped his pants again; mumbling into his alcohol infused puke - again.

20 year old Ferdinand slung his father then footslogged. The old man's expletives echoing through the cypress trees. Ferdi bawled at the torturous memory.

Even now, 10 years later his tears are like freshly squeezed lemon; Fleshy bits splayed about like Jackson Pollock’s No 5 - articulated in a hybrid of dark, bright and bitter. Carina Reynecke was beautiful and cruel.

She stirred in her sleep as Ferdi lightly touched her bruised eye. "forgive me". He wept like the young boy who slung a drunken father. He was becoming “a chip off the old block”.

The toxins teased and cut through the bone. It sliced through every ounce of control and reserve; pummelling at his tolerance and glooms. He loved his wife.

Elvis Presley blurted, "Are you lonesome tonight. The tuner ventured Bohemian Rapsody but Ferdinand Reynecke fixed his attention on the road ahead.

The Nivarra grumbled through the Cedarberg mountains, One of South Africa’s most exquisite countryside sceneries.

My bones heat up as I stretch towards the fireplace that is engraved inside a cave of old-fangled feuds; A Crypt where “Brown and Sherry” have become a man’s best friend.

10 years along and now an old man, but I still watch over him as I did in the Cedarberg peaks. The portrait of Carina Reynecke hung high.

He loved his wife. It's a dog’s life. © Jambiya Kai

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