In Search of Oldton

If I ever truly go hazy about what dad looked liked, all I have to do is look in the mirror.

I look quite like him now - the sunken eyes, his cool I'm-not-really-here stare, the red neck. Every week I vow I'm not going to drink any more.

All the time I thought I'd lost him, he was lurking within. And all the mistakes and failings I blame him for are mine. I'm the father now. I'm alive. He's dead. And, yes, sometimes I do feel like running away.

I deal out the Oldton cards, piece together my map and create this refuge for myself, this hiding place. You see, the last person in Oldton to disappear is very likely to be me.

Writers for the Future