Dear You,


I know your name, I’ve seen your face, and the offence you’re now serving in prison for, that’s my life.

You stole my Grandpa’s eyes.

Now, he can’t see the drawings I make him. He doesn’t know my face. He can’t read the poems I’ve written him, he cannot cry the tears we’ve shed for him. He can’t see the tears we cry.

I hate you for that.

My Grandpa can’t see his wife, or the youth in her eyes. He can’t see his three lovely daughters, or their husbands, or their friends. He especially, he can’t see his six beautiful grandchildren, or the love in their features as they look up to him.

Sometimes, you take away our faith.

It’s you I see in my nightmares, even though I wasn’t even there. You who stalks the shadows of my consciousness. All it took you was to pull the trigger. How could a human being be so cruel to hurt another, to be so bloodthirsty? Yet all it took was a twitch of the finger. Easy.

Just pull the trigger.

An attempt to murder. Did you think it could’ve been that simple? Just to take their lives and flee? What about when you tried to escape the car that was taking you away? Was it worth putting innocent lives in danger? Harming a cop who has only tried to protect other people? Oh, wait, apparently you didn’t care enough about others.

You were good friends with these people. My mom, my aunts, my grandparents. How could you stab them in the back? They allowed you in their home, they opened their doors, they loved and cared for you. And yet you still stood there, with that gun. Just to pull the trigger on them.

Thankfully, you failed at destroying lives. The only persons’ life you ruined was your own. As for my grandpa? You just improved him. Guess what? He became mayor of Woodhaven. He got laws changed to suit the blind. He’s a great hunter, he goes to church and is even on the council. He has had three Leader Dogs, two of which were my best friends. And he make the absolute best spaghetti in the entire world.

Where were you? Rotting in a prison, miles upon miles away from your home. Did you know when you first got out, it had been the first time I’d ever had a restraining order on somebody? But wait, it wasn’t long until you blew that gig, too. Sent back to that fine prison you’ve been in for over twenty-two years.

Hurting my family didn’t work. It helped us grow, it helped us persevere, and it gave us faith. It gave us friendship. So, thanks, sorta. I guess by saying this I’m really asking for it, but I mean it.






~The Untouchable Product

P.S.

I will never send this letter. Mostly because it’s just for me, and I almost hope you suffer each and every day, and I don’t want to give you any relief you do not deserve. Almost.

Oh, and I forgive you.