The Whiskey Barrels

Vaxon Dior, a hero to everyone's life, father to all children, a sibling to all the unprivileged and a blessing to the aged. From all the mourning and the thousands of people that had attended the man's funeral one needn't be told that the man was loved, looked upon and inspired everyone. This was all news to me.I was sure I didn't know of the man they spoke of because the same man I knew as Vaxon Dior,my father, was none of these things people claimed he was.

Keenly, I listened as people praised the man but when I looked at the fresh scar that had fully developed on my flawless skin,I knew that these people may have actually mistaken their own hero from my Father. As his casket started vanishing from the face of the earth,flowers were thrown as the priest spoke comforting words to ease the pain of the lose of an "amazing man".

To them, I was Mr.Dior's maid. A maid whom they had actually never laid eyes on.I was ashamed to tell the truth of who I am, because of my human nature that would not allow me to ruin a man's reputation and let the last memories of their hero die with him.The man did not deserve my silence but I ought not to be like him.

As the devil tried to turn me into one of his soliders by filling my mind with the unexpectable truth of my past, one memory overpowered my sanity.This is when my father used to throw big parties and from the basement I could hear him and his friends better than they could among themselves.

The late night dancing, singing and the clinging of the classes that they would use to hit the table to show they were not done drinking for the night.This kept me up all night but still I was expected to be up before the sun rose and the chirping of birds to begin a new day even started .

Nineteen years of age and I felt closer to a stack of old whiskey barrels that I shared the same room with than my father.The bottles were well kept and tidied everyday.I believe if this were a fictional story and the bottles had mouths he would feed them. At least this gave me hope that somewhere deep down he was human.But, I had a feeling that in the real world human beings were not meant to be treated like this especially by someone who is said to be important in someone's life.I wished I knew what the real world felt like and it made me wonder if actually everyone was just like my father.

It is now understood why I new not of the man described by many. But now as I'm seated at the top floor of the most famous building,10years, later I understand it all.I can finally reveal the truth behind the story of the famous Vaxon Dior .