In this week’s challenge we have been asked to weave a fictional autobiography or use ourselves as a template for one.

Which way do you think I have gone?

My name is Simon Boyle and I was born at a very early age.

Neither of my parents thought at the time as they gazed down on me that I would rise the to heights I did or as some have put it sink to the depths I did.

I was brought up in the country. My father was a carpenter and my mother a housewife. Mum loved to play tennis and she instilled in me that desire which I nurtured until my later teenage years.

School and I didn’t get along all that well. In fact I consider myself privileged to have attended a number of schools. Each one finding reason for me to move on to the next one. By the time I was fifteen and of an age to leave school I had sampled each of the schools in the district. And let me tell you none of them were much chop.

In June of sixty-eight I met ‘Sneaky’ Sammy Sidebottom. Sammy was the sort of guy who knew people, places and things. One of the things he did for me was introduce me to the seedy side of life.

But what I discovered was, as seedy as it was; it was also a side of life where an industrious young man could make a lot of money.

I became friends with JL Roader the local Madame. She was a tough character and ran a strict and profitable establishment. The Main Street Private Hotel. JL took no crap from anyone and soon I was her errand boy and in that capacity I got to know the girls very well.

As I was ambitious I took notice of how JL ran her business. Everything was clean and the girls healthy. Any hint of anything untoward and the perpetrator was out in the street with orders never to show his face again.

In the spring of seventy-five JL died. JL’s Private Hotel was thrown into chaos, as her death was very sudden. Who would succeed her and take over? I gathered around me the security enforcers we employed and made my stand. I would take over, JL’s Private Hotel and continue in her memory.

After all the girls had to live, some had families and mortgages to support; it was in everyone’s best interests to carry on.

Of the girls one took my fancy. Her name, for the sake of anonymity we shall call LG. For LG life was good. She had a lot of return customers, she was very urbane and in her spare time fancied herself as a novelist.

She became my off-sider, my confidant, and my most trusted ally.

The business flourished, as did the pressure from the religious right to have me closed down. That six of their members were frequent customers never came into consideration as they launched a campaign to have my business terminated.

In an election year, fear is always a motivating tool to get people to listen to you and vote for you. They spread rumour and innuendo that my establishment was a den of sexual disease. That I was responsible for the spread of a disease that would be the ruin of the community.

The night before the election my business was burnt down and in the fire three of my girls were killed. I was devastated.

I launched a campaign to fund raise for the erection of a new Private Hotel. As my business had a huge clientele it wasn’t hard to raise enough funds to get a new hotel off the ground.

This business was bigger and better than the last place and it was mine. My design, my ideas, my success.

Whatever people thought about my style of business, they preferred a well-run place to some backyard dodgy setup. And my place was well run. I carried on from JL’s lead, my girls were clean, they received regular medical check-ups, and the rooms were always spotless.

The downside was I was never invited to join the Chamber of Commerce even though my business contributed greatly to the community. We supported local sporting teams; we participated in community events in fact as I write these words today I believe we have become an accepted part of this community.

Even my family have come to accept that I run a legitimate business. After years of ostracism they eventually took me back into the family and I am Uncle Simon to all their kids.

I’m not sure what the future holds but I do know that societies oldest profession is alive and flourishing in my hometown.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/03/12/fictionalizing-2/