The Drunken Saviour - R. K. Mullins (small books to read .txt) 📗

think his death was worth. The county buried him in a poppers grave with no stone or marker that showed anyone who laid there beneath their feet. He died much like he lived, drunk and only warmed by the alcohol he consumed. It did nothing to help him live but did everything to cause his death.
A few years later I was unemployed and doing what I ever I could find to earn money to feed and house my wife and children. I had stolen food from people’s gardens and I was getting very disparate. I was starting to think about getting back into something that I had not done in a long time. I was thinking of asking a few people I knew from the old days to set me up with something. I had to find a way to feed my kids.
Almost ready to get back into something that could have been more divesting to my family than anything else ever could. I was out scrapping, that’s looking for things that can be sold to junk yards or today recycling places, and found myself in what looked like a cemetery. I looked around for anything I could sell when I found a small metal plate on the ground. It read Wright Collins.
After all this time I never knew where they had lain him to rest I would find him in what was looking like my moment of desperation. I knelt down beside the grave and started pulling the weeds from around the metal plate when I asked Wright what should I do. I’m not sure why I would ask a dead man that, like he could answer me. Would he speak beyond the grave and give me some bit of wisdom that would help me.
Well to my surprise that’s what happened in a way. I sat there for a few minutes when I started to cry. I looked around to make sure no one was around and wiped my eyes with my jacket sleeve. I asked myself what I was doing, crying over a man that had been dead for years and asking him for help. I must have lost my mind.
Then it hit me, those words he kept telling me over and over again. A man has to believe in something, a man needs something to live his life by or why live it at all. His philosophies started ringing in my ears. I shook my head as if to tell Wright I understood. I finally understood what he had desperately tried to teach me.
It only took his death, me finding him in my moment of need to get through to me, but through to me it did. Wright’s words had gotten through to me. When I needed him the most he was there for me even after death he was there.
I never did call the people I knew from the old days. I continued to struggle trying to feed my family as best I could. However I never went backwards, I never went back to doing those things I did as a young boy. Thanks to Wright I was able to move past that and find other ways to make ends meet.
Well I went on to becoming the man Wright knew I could be. Loving fathers doing whatever he can to ensure his children are cared for. I went back to school and had a great life. Living it by the philosophies a drunken bum, if not for Wright I would have went the wrong way. He saved me that day and I guess it’s true the dead can talk if we listen to them. This is why I say Wright Collins is my Superhero and always will be. I hope you find someone in your life that can become your hero if you do not have one. Maybe one day their words or actions will help you in ways you yet to know.
In loving memory of my Hero Wright Collins.
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Publication Date: 05-10-2012

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