Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Ghosts of the Past
This is part 2 of 4. This part is based off the My Chemical Romance song, Ghost of You. There are 2 other parts to this written, and should be posted as soon as someone requests it. Might help to listen to the song while reading this.
My Dearest Alicia,
Tomorrow I'm being sent onto the front lines of battle. I can't help but feel that I won't make it out alive. I don't have much time to write this, because I have to be up early for deployment tomorrow. While I'm not sure what to say, I want you to know that I love you with all my heart, and intend to marry you if I survive this war.
If I don't make it out alive, there's something that I want you to know. When my father's house burned down, it was because Gerard and I set it on fire. He says that our father deserved it, because he killed our mother. The thing is, I can't really remember that night very well. Some days, I wonder if it ever happened at all.
All my love,
Mikey
June 27, 1944
We were in these boats headed to the shore. I was in a boat with Mikey, and our friends, Ray and Frank. We landed, in a hail of bullets, and began to charge ahead, returning fire, while trying to seek shelter to avoid being hit. It was a tricky, complicated dance that we had no practice in, and that most of us would not survive.
I had the irresistible urge to be rid of my younger brother, once and for all. It's always been there, but now, I could get away with it. Before I could do anything about it, however, Mikey slipped, and fell into the line of fire.
He got hit in the chest, and fell, screaming. I lunged towards him, but Frank's arms around my waist held me back. He was screaming at me, "Don't do it! You'll die!" He was right though. What good would I be to my brother if I were dead or wounded? When there was a momentary break in the firing, Ray, the closest, crawled towards my fallen brother, a hand automatically going to take his pulse.
There was a moment, before Ray looked up at me, a somber look on his face, and shook his head. I threw my head back, and let out a high-pitched scream, just like a dying rabbit. I was the one who suggested that he sign up for the army in the first place. It was my fault that he was currently laying there covered in mud and his own blood. What had I done?
My Dearest Alicia,
Tomorrow I'm being sent onto the front lines of battle. I can't help but feel that I won't make it out alive. I don't have much time to write this, because I have to be up early for deployment tomorrow. While I'm not sure what to say, I want you to know that I love you with all my heart, and intend to marry you if I survive this war.
If I don't make it out alive, there's something that I want you to know. When my father's house burned down, it was because Gerard and I set it on fire. He says that our father deserved it, because he killed our mother. The thing is, I can't really remember that night very well. Some days, I wonder if it ever happened at all.
All my love,
Mikey
June 27, 1944
We were in these boats headed to the shore. I was in a boat with Mikey, and our friends, Ray and Frank. We landed, in a hail of bullets, and began to charge ahead, returning fire, while trying to seek shelter to avoid being hit. It was a tricky, complicated dance that we had no practice in, and that most of us would not survive.
I had the irresistible urge to be rid of my younger brother, once and for all. It's always been there, but now, I could get away with it. Before I could do anything about it, however, Mikey slipped, and fell into the line of fire.
He got hit in the chest, and fell, screaming. I lunged towards him, but Frank's arms around my waist held me back. He was screaming at me, "Don't do it! You'll die!" He was right though. What good would I be to my brother if I were dead or wounded? When there was a momentary break in the firing, Ray, the closest, crawled towards my fallen brother, a hand automatically going to take his pulse.
There was a moment, before Ray looked up at me, a somber look on his face, and shook his head. I threw my head back, and let out a high-pitched scream, just like a dying rabbit. I was the one who suggested that he sign up for the army in the first place. It was my fault that he was currently laying there covered in mud and his own blood. What had I done?
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