Over the Summer I was in a class where we had to do internal blog posts during the week. Here are a few of em:
This isn’t the life you wanted is it? Was this what you had in mind when you said you needed something different? Well, it’s too late now. You’re stuck here. The man from across the street looked out of his window on the third floor. Normal neighborhood, normal house, everything was normal, and that’s what he needed. Right?
The warm, beige mug in his hand let off a little bit of steam that floated up to his nostrils, bringing him back to the present. He shifted in his stance, sipped the warm hot chocolate, and began his descent back down the stairs. His golden hair curled around his head in an unruly fashion, like the hands of partygoers at a concert.
If I don’t make the deadline today, then I don’t know what will happen. He gazed down at his old watch, resting on his wrist like a shackle, reminding him of the dues he owes and the fates that he so willingly tempts. He walks into the study of his house and sits down on his large leather chair. He almost falls into it as he sighs and looks at his computer lying open, a blank document staring him in the face.
A new setting, a new scenario. This is what was supposed to help? He set his mug down next to the device and began typing, slowly at first, with a hesitance. “This will be the day…the day that I finally get to see my family again. The day that has been sitting on my calendar, glaring at me like a reprimanded school child. This is that day, and it cannot be escaped.”
A stack of books sat on the man’s desk behind him. He turned around and quietly glared at them before slowly picking them up and running his hands down the lightly embossed spines, feeling the memories of the lives he’d created and taken haunting the pages. Now he was on his final moment, the crescendo, the climax, and he had no idea where his lives were going. He drew a blank as he thought upon what might happen to his friends and his foes, all living in their leather bindings.
Blood must be shed for the reward to be achieved. He fought with himself. ‘It doesn’t have to be that way.’ Yes, it does. Don’t delude yourself into thinking you can save him. He has to die. No way around it. He turned back around to his computer and let his fingers begin dancing their finale aboard the raised keys.
“This is the day…the day I’ve decided to win. It cannot be escaped, but…then again, destinies were made to be met. Right?”
I guess death really does come for us all, but if that’s true, there must be a way to rout him. The elderly woman sat in her comfy chair looking around the store she was in. She surmised that it was some sort of gift shop. Children were walking around, giddily pointing at the shiny items that lined the expansive walls. She sighed to herself as she looked up at the chandeliers in the store. This is no ordinary shop.
All of the sudden she froze. No. It can’t be. It’s too soon. Death stared at her from across the shop. His cliché scythe glistened in the moonlight flooding in from the nearby window. His hood draped over his face, like it was hiding the secrets of the universe just out of reach. He was as still as a statue as he seemingly stared at the woman across the store.
She rose to her feet without a sound. The rest of the world didn’t matter at the moment. People were moving in slow motion. Nothing else mattered, but her, and her guest, staring at each other from across the room. This was a contest of wills, and she was fighting someone with unlimited patience. This will not be that day. It can’t be. There’s more I have to do.
She breaks his gaze as she walks over to the counter. “Excuse me,” she says to the man working behind the register. He looks up from his place and smiles at the woman. “How can I help you tonight?” She warily looks back at the front door. Her guest is still there. She looks back at the man working the register. “I apologize. Never mind.” She turns around again and beings walking to the entrance.
If this is going to happen, then I’m going out guns blazing. She reaches the door and hesitantly puts her hand out as she pushes lightly. The door opens and within a moment she’s on the porch with death. The staring contest is back on as they look at each other. The woman’s gaze never leaves the hollow expanse of his hood. She slowly, carefully, begins to hold her hand out to the creation in front of her. I’m ready. I have to be. I’m ending this on my own terms.
Death reaches his hand out back to her and places a candy bar in her hands. Bewildered, she looks at her hand and back up at him. She stares at him in awe before quietly saying, “Why?”
He’s quiet for a moment before replying, “Happy Halloween ma’am. Come back and visit us again.”
That one kid’s future was about as bright as a broken lamp in a cave. This was the general consensus of the room as they watched him slowly dip his hands back into the Play-Doh tube and pull out another “tasty morsel” of putty. Everyone knew that someday, somehow, that kid was going to go out in some hilarious way. At least, that’s what they hoped. The boy that sat in front of them was full of joy as he continued to eat the blue Play-Doh, a ecstatic smile on his face.
20 years later that boy stood on the top of a skyscraper downtown. He turned around to the people shouting at him to get off the ledge and stop what he was doing. He tightened the straps on his harness before raising his hands to the crowd of scared civilians and security guards. “It’s OK! Do not worry for me! It’s misplaced! I have studied this long and hard! I’ve put a lot of work into these wings!” He patted the angelic styled wings hanging on his back. “I’ve done this before!”
He turned back around to the air in front of him. The highest building in the city. This should be high enough. He smiled as he spread his arms out and jumped.
So many thoughts flashed in his mind as he descended. This is bliss. I’ve finally figured it out! Did I leave the garage door open? His mind ran a rampant zig-zag line of confusion and randomness. His fall continued at a steady speed before he opened his wings up to the wind beneath him and…he began to fly.
He had built the wings as a flying-squirrel suit with angel wings on it. He thought they looked cooler than just a regular gliding suit. He floated through the city’s downtown districts as a careless as a bird. His smile was just as huge as it had been that day in the school classroom with the Play-Doh.
As he neared the ground he realized he had no real way of stopping. He had no parachute or anything attached to his body. The ground sped ever closer to him as he slammed his eyes shut and whimpered. The lesson was hard learned, but important. His story was a legacy for the brave men and women that would come after him. Never test a prototype yourself. Never test a prototype yourself. Never test a prototype yourself.