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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1715283-Purpose
Rated: 13+ · Other · Personal · #1715283
A man takes a walk wondering about his purpose
Please keep in mind that this is in its rough state, but i'm not sure where I want to take it just yet.


He slammed the door as he stormed out of the apartment, he walked to the elavator and punched the button. He yelped as pain exploded from his knuckle, as he looked at his knuckle he could see the skin peeled back and a scarlet pool of boll forming in the wound. "Figures" he muttered as he looked at the light making its ever so slow to his floor. 2, second, "story of my life" he muttered as he thinks of his cell phone lying in the corner of his apartment shattered beyond repair after its near supersonic flight into the wall. "Unfortunatley we have offered the position to the other candidate, though we wish you the best of luck in your endeavers" said a woman from yet another firm. 2, second, story of my life.

He tasted the metalic flavor of his blood as he sucked on his wounded knuckle, the light had stalled two floors up. "Screw it", me muttered as he turned toward the stairs. His speed increased as he tried to outrun the feelings he knew would come. It had been ten years since he had left college and still he lived in this broken-down apartment building. Where were all things he was suposed to have by now? The house, the wife, kids, He sighed, "I'd even take the dog right now." All he had to show was regrets and anger over ever missed opportunity he ever had.

As stepped out on to the sidewalk, he looked up and saw gray skies as far as the eye could see. "Perfect", he thought as he smelled the odor of exhaust, grime, and urine that always got more powerful before the rain. He began to walk toward the liquor store, hopefully he had enough cash for a night of no memories. Of course, no matter how much he may try to think of something else, during fustrating circumstances such as this, his thoughts turned to the father he never knew, who had left his mother before he was even born. "Is that my fate, to be a loser, sellout, and deadbeat?' he wondered to himself.

Thus he was so lost his own despair that he didn't notice that he had walked right past the liquor store. He was so consumed in his own dark thoughts that he had traveled two blocks when he heard it. The only thing that pulled him from his dark thoughts was one sound no one could ignore. A bloodcurtling scream from a mother whose child was in danger.

As he turned is was as it life had paused, he noticed every little detail in the scene before him. A woman dressed in a long beige jacket with black high-heeled boots frozen in fear screaming pointing at a boy. The boy about sevenyears old, with shaggy brown hair, chubby cheeks that had seen many pinches, wearing a pair of jeans, little lace-up sneakers, a Spider Man shirt under an Iron Man backpack. The boy was standing in the road clutching a little rubber ball he had chased into the street while his mother bought a magazine. A car, green sedan with a front plate with spicy airbrushed on it, driven by a girl, maybe seventeen, eyes looking up towards the sky, on hand holdiog a cellphone, the other gesturing in the air, no clue that the front was in front of her. There was no thought, just action as he pushed off with his right foot.

His left foot hits the ground the boy looks at his mother, right foot hits the ground the boy looks at the car realized too late that danger. Left foot, the girl sees the boy and slams her brakes, the car will never stop in time. Right foot, he grabs the boy but there is no time left, he hugs the boy and turns around, a heartbeat, the car hits him in the back and then he is airbone, he clings to the boy and try to manuver in the air. His back and head slam on the asphault.

The boy jumps up and runs to his mother as she takes his is her arms, screamingand crying still prossecing the fact that her only son is shaken but unhurt and then her eyes shift to the broken man lying in the street. Though she is no doctor, she can tell from his injuries that an ambulance will do no good. She sets her child down on the sidewalk and towards her child's savior. She looks him in the eye and tell him "thank you". The man's eyes hold no anger or accusation only a strange happiness as he smiles. His eyes close, but the smile stays .
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