Ireland was a white wonderland. Snowflakes drifted slowly from the skies inviting adults and children alike to partake in the festive activities. Nature was loud, organized chaos. All the sounds alone annoying but together a musical worthy of the highest rewards. Small kids laughed loudly, infants cuddled into the warm bosom of their mothers, and chilled fingers grasped warm mugs of hot chocolate. Happiness was so noticeable you could drown in it. But happiness is not drowning. That is pain.
Pain wasn't far away either. Hidden in the mazes of corridors of a manor, there was an office. That is where the pain was. All the lights were off and in the darkness a young man sat. Quietly pondering many things but one thing coming to his mind repeatedly.
Where was his childhood?
He looked to be only 16. Why wasn't he outside, running around in the snow with all the other children and teenagers of his kind. If you were to look closer you would notice his red rimmed eyes and the cloudy blank expression on his hollowed face.
Why was he crying?
If you to see what he saw and hear what he has heard maybe you would cringe or vomit or cry for your mother; this man suffered in silence. Where was this man's childhood? Had it been washed from his memory or had he never even had one?
So in the dark he sat, full of pity and depression. He deserved to be. Truth is, he never had a childhood. He never held a snowball, he never played with children of his age, he never danced in the rain. Truth be told, he never had a childhood, only adulthood and pain.