Story one: The Black Parade

I remember when I was a very young child, back when my father was still alive, he took me to see a parade. There was everything from clowns to floats, and everything in-between. Sitting on his shoulder’s I remember watching all the color’s falling from the sky like snow on the eve of his death. It was amazing like nothing I had ever seen before. It was beautiful, magnificent at most.
He took me off his shoulder. Look me in the eye’s and said that someday that I would be the one leading them into something new, exciting, different, and like no one ever before. I was still too young to understand what he meant; now I do. I was the one to make a change in society, to make a difference like no one before me, and to change the world for the better. I wanted to be just like his thoughts of what he wanted me to be after he died. I sought for change to what his ideals were. They shortly became my own I was constantly changing them. There was even nights I stayed up to figure out what the next step to change society would be.
I started to change my appearance to get ready for what I would call “The Black Parade”; this is what thought to be the best plan to come across my thoughts. It was perfect down to the very last detail. I swore upon my father’s grave that this would be the thing I would fight for the strongest.
I put my plans forward slowly. It was difficult to put forth at first. Not a living soul who claimed to be different, not like everybody, didn’t fit in, or can’t stand to be like the one’s who is the same every on else; they were scared, just like everybody else. I was trying to get more people to come and join me with my father’s dream. In ten year’s after my father’s un-timely death from cancer, I got more people to than what I needed.
Thing’s were fitting into place as if they were meant to be. Working out all the last bit of kink’s that needed to be done. Getting everything to be done the week’s before the big day to come. The parade would take place one the same street in the big city that it took place, on the same day eighteen years earlier. This was truly my father’s dream. I wanted this for him. This was my dream. This was our dream. “The Black Parade” was filled with many failures along the way, but it’s what I’ve been working on my whole entire life. Just because of this one thing I’ve been called some pretty unnecessary things, but I didn’t care.
I will make this work if not me but for my father, this is what he wanted me to. It was his wish as long as I could remember. I’m doing this for 100%, for him.
The day came, everything was going on schedule. This is right. Right before the parade started, I could sense that my beloved father was there to help along the way for the last time.
The Black Parade started on time. Everything was going to plan, everything was right, and it was perfect. I was leading what my father wanted for me and what I’ve working for, for such a long time.
Nearing to the end, I was thinking this is good to be true. I’ve done it I lead my father’s dream. In a blink of an eye I was shot in the back of the head. I died and the true Black Parade came for me. I died for what I worked for so long. And I’m proud of this.
In death I will never forget this. I achieved what was my father’s wish. And I could care less because it was worth it.
Fin.