When I was younger, I had an obsession with bugs and dirt. My mother would yell at me constantly for trekking dirt through the house. She squealed so loudly when she found me playing with worms in the back yard one time, I was punished for it. I also got a lot of lectures from her and my grandmother about how unladylike my fascination was. The truth is, I loved it! I'd dig for hours, searching for changes in the soil and different insects that crawled inside the layers of dirt. I'd explore ant holes and beetle burrows, enjoying what nature held. When it rained, that was the best time. It was when you'd see all of the rare bugs that were harder to find. The earthworms and whatever else would wash up and I'd had a field day against my mother's wishes. Mother punished my for years until she finally realized it was what I loved and I would not stop. She began to buy me books on dirt and bugs as well as subscribe to magazines that might peek my interest. Mother no longer let my grandmother belittle me about my "boyish" enthusiasm. Instead, she explained that my weird behavior might take me places in the world of science and discovery. As a result, my grandmother came down harder on my mother and me about us not focusing on the right things. I had no clue what the "right things" were, but I didn't care to find out. I was too much into my ant farm and mealworm exposition. However, my grandmother would wait for Mother to leave and beat me, demanding I stopping digging, "or else." Things soon took a tragic turn for the worst.
One day, Mother switched, completely! She no longer let me dig around and locked all of my books and magazines away. She flushed my bugs and removed anything that would remind me of my desires. It happened so randomly, or so I thought. It wasn't random at all because after Mother bleached my dreams of becoming an entomologist, I found out my grandmother was coming to live with us. My grandmother fell terribly ill, but her wicked heart never changed. She'd whisper in my ear that I'd dig my own grave and other creepy things when Mother wasn't around. She'd slap ants with her flip flops and call me into her room to swat flies. Killing insects was the only way she knew she could truly get to me and she'd made sure I crushed every fruit fly in the kitchen. I couldn't understand why she hated my passion so much.
One day, Mother and the wicked old witch left for my Aunt's house for the weekend. They'd be gone for three days and that gave me time to do as I wished because Dad, who I didn't mention earlier, would be stuck in front of Sports Center, "watching" me, which really meant, I'd be on my own. On Saturday morning, I finished all of my homework, watched cartoons while eating cereal, and did my chores. I made sure that if Mother called home, my Dad wouldn't be able to report any bad news; therefore, Mother wouldn't force him to actually pay attention to me until things were done. After getting the call, he cleared my name of persecution and also gave himself a free ride to do as he pleased as well. Soon after, Dad turned on the TV, grabbed his beer, and told me to "scram."
I took that as the perfect opportunity, as well as an actual command to do as I pleased, and also by digging for hidden multi-legged creatures. I walked to the Home Depot and used the allowance I'd saved for the past month and purchased new tools to dig and observe with. I searched the garage for anything Mother might have hidden and hit the jackpot in an old box. I knew Mother wouldn't be calling again so I began to dig my deepest holes. Things were great and it was like I was never deprived of being a creepy little kid. I was digging for about and hour and collected at least a dozen bugs along with five different types of dirt. When I was just getting tired and about to take a break, I hit something hard. Frantic, I magically found the energy to dig some more, just to find out if I hit the jackpot or a lousy pipe. Much to my surprise, I found the discovery of all time and with that, the circumstances changed. What I found would uncover the richest secret that was hidden by my family for generations.
Mother and my grandmother came home late that Sunday. They were angered by all the fresh holes in the yard and my grandmother locked me in my room to express her frustration. Mother, on the other hand, unlocked the door when my grandmother went to sleep. She didn't have the heart to stand up to the old wretch all of a sudden and quite frankly, I couldn't wait for her to just die. I know it was a heartless thing to say but the old bat was pure evil and I hated her. To top it off, no one would answer my questions as to what in that chest of finding when I was secretly digging. They just kept telling me it didn't concern me and reprimanded me for asking. Something told me that whatever was in there was the reason I was locked in my room. I was determined to find out what it was when one morning, I came downstairs from my room for school and found Mother sobbing and my Dad consoling her. My wish came true and my grandmother died in her sleep that night. Mom found her and a note that confessed to a dead body being in the chest that I found. As if that plot didn't thicken enough, we also found out that the dead body was my grandfather who had gone missing years before I was even born.
My late grandmother murdered my grandfather after he stepped out on their marriage and had an illegitimate child from his affair. That explained when she hated my digging, fearful that I'd find the body and she'd have to reveal why a dead person was buried in our back yard. Weird, right? Well that creepy pivotal moment lead me to become a forensic scientist, specifically studying dirt and bugs to build evidence and put murders behind bars. I got to follow my passion and make sure unsolved murders don't remain secrets. It was a profession that combined my disgusting concupiscence with a dark family secert.
