The Cyber-Dragon

A Story by Abishai100

A fable about newfound valor discovered from the 'darkness' of miraculously endured 'disproportionate' regret.

A tale of spiritual awakening 'wrought' from modern headlines of humanity wrestling/gripping with its own 'sense' of desolation(s), inspired loosely by the searing 'awakening' lens film Drunks (Spalding Gray). Thanks so much for reading,

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I moved into a nice New England home and began work at a post-office in the summer of 2010 with my wife and daughter. We had a nice life after graduating from college together and began raising her daughter, but my work started getting to me mentally, and I saw my American Dream starting to disappear, which was previously quite shining.

We had a son, a darling baby-boy named Damian. He loved to play with watercolors, and I let him make dazzling and fun wall-covering splash 'art' in his playroom and loved to hear my baby-boy laugh and giggle with spiritual delight. This was my life. However, my work at the post-office, frustrating, was still getting to me, and my perfect daydream was about to completely vanish.

My wife left me and took our daughter (Eliza) with her, and I was left to raise Damian on my own. He continued to make his fun wall 'art' in his playroom, but I started dabbling in narcotics/drugs, very hard drugs, and I took in a drug-addict girlfriend from the Boston area, a Harvard drop-out named Danica. This was the beginning of the unraveling of this dream, which warranted a story-telling because of the final resolution, which I hope you'll remain to read to the very end of it.

DANICA: We've got the best supply of hard drugs in New England, my sweetheart.

ME: I know that, Danica; I'm glad Damian's shielded from this behavior in his playroom, making wall-art, haha.

Danica died of a drug overdose, and I continued to partake in my horrid narcotics habit in my once dream-house in New England. I'd remember Danica as something of a lost-soul, and I didn't take the required time to blame myself for this error of humanity.

However, my perfect 'deformed' life was shattered when, because of my drug-addiction, I failed to take good tending care of Damian, and he starved/dehydrated in his darling playroom, only to have me discover his weary body laying in his crib, with his recent wall 'art' made for me to see...and cherish. What I cherish now more than anything is that art, but I also cherish my newfound Catholic-converted drug-cleansed life-time when I visit his tombstone in a Boston cemetery every Sunday morning at 9 am sharp!

Today, I'm a Catholic-convert (still) and contribute comic book fanfiction art/stories on the cyber-comics forum(s) and present stories of 'super-heroes' working against the modern traffic hellmouth of lifestyle-shattering narcotics abuse in North America which ruins the soul...and destiny. This is my wall 'art' now, and I owe it to Damian.

I consider myself a writer of my own sad demise, and I honor my newfound religious (Catholic) life in New England to what Damian left-behind for me, an earnest comic-book art 'mission' to spread the 'good-word' about the modern value(s) of disseminating on the Internet stories about the lessons of life obtained through horrid errs, and the newfound spirituality obtained from a newfound 'awakening' of the life-morale of well-suited divine regret(s)!