Someone stole my life. Class assignment. Class over. Passed.
|Tell a story in 1000 words or less. Prompt: Unbelievable theft|
The Unbelievable Theft: Stolen Life
People look at me and say, “Sure, George, Jose Mingal stole your life.” One day I was a highly successful author. The next day I was a bum on the street, wearing rags. My whole life was stolen by someone from the streets.
I know who I am. I am George Sanchez, a well-known writer of ten books, with a wife of nine years, and father of two boys and a girl, with a fourth child on the way. Well, I used to be anyways. I’m still George Sanchez, but everything else was stolen, by one Jose Mingal.
To be honest, I’m not even sure how it all happened. One day I was living comfortably, making ten thousand dollars a month from my books, and the next day I was a beggar on the streets of my home town. Did I do something wrong? Did I forget to donate some money to the local shelter? Was it because I was sleeping with another woman? I have no idea. Now I’m stuck wandering the streets, searching through garbage cans for food, and trying to find a safe place to sleep every night.
As for Jose Mingal, I knew him from before. The guy lived in the alleyway across from where I go to publish my stories. Sometimes I’d give him some spare change, so that he could spend the night in a shelter and get a meal. Mostly though, people just ignored him, as he was always ranting about how he was of Aztec royalty, and how people should be bowing down to him. Me, I didn’t buy that part, but he seemed to be relatively harmless.
Of course, this might have to deal with what happened a few months ago. I was coming down the steps of the publishing house, with my heart shrunken in my chest. The publisher had said “George, this story is garbage. There is no way anyone will buy a story about monsters being cowboys in the Old West. Write something else.” It wasn’t the first time the guy had rejected one of my stories, but the way he said it, it hit me worse than the time my brother took a baseball bat and smashed the headlights on my Ford F-100. Man I loved that truck, got my first girlfriend with it you should know. Of course, I made sure that my brother paid for the damages, and not just in money.
However, on this day I had taken one look at Jose and said, “Man, I wish I could trade places with you. You got it easy compared to me.”
He took a look at me and said, “Watch what you wish for. It just might happen one day.” And it did.
Now I’m busy with several things. Not only do I have to find food to eat, but I also have to find a place to stay at night. Also, I watch him walking in front of me a few times a week. He seems to look at me as well, and there seems to be a smile on his face each time. I hate it, and I want the life that he stole back.