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Category: Writing and Poetry

Whelan´s moralities.

-Do you really like god?

Said Mara with a pity look. Whelan didn´t hesitate. he replied with a positive No.

-Then why do you keep so devotee?
He looked inside his tea cup, as if inside of it there was an answer.
-There is no way I can really tell you why, I just am. Maybe not to him, but to his people. I am devotee for his people.

-What do you mean? sorry if i´m being quite a meddler right know it´s just that- 
-No, no...-
-I- I don´t like seeing you so dedicated into something so dangerous.
He left his cup at the table and putted both hands onto it, relieving his weight over.
-I don´t like this either, but there are things I broke, and I won´t rest until I can see them replaced.
I don´t have much, Mara, so I give myself in. It´s the less I can do.
His tone was dismal, a little bit cracked, even.
-I have to do this, Mara, my life... is so worthless if not sacrificed.
-You say such things, yet you crumble at the smallest of abandons. You do enjoy yourself, don´t you?
Mara chuckled.
-There is no shame in that! 
-There is.
The laughs ceased.
-There is shame in my happiness, because I gave myself a place in hell. I gave myself a place in the palace of lost . So now I´m worthless. I am... No longer a person, I am a defect. I can't allow myself to be happy if I'm like this.
Whelan shivered. He really was hearing his words. Not regretting one.
-So... I guess Ive´been always so devotee because I like having something to relay on. Just imagining a loving father, who is always there... Always supportive... It hits a spot in my heart that was never touched. The place of a parent I suspect.
Mara looked down at the floor, not mumbling a single word.
-I know that ¨father¨ does not care for me, but I can imagine, as I imagined in my childhood my life as an angel. 
He sighed.
-I can do nothing but imagine. 
Left out a single tear.


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