Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2007129-Staring-At-Death
by Quan
Rated: E · Short Story · Educational · #2007129
Poor decisions leads to the ultimate demise of a young man.
Running in the house, past his mother, Chris went into the back of the house. Panicking he dropped all the packages he had in his pocket, throughout small spots within the room while trashing it to camoflouge what he had done. He then pulled the steps down from the ceiling and climbed them quickly being sure to close the door behind him. He lay in a dark corner behind dusty boxes of family momentos, but close to the venilation so that he could hear the door.
By this time his breathing had calm down so a silent breath, sure to not give himself away. Moments later he heard a knock on the door, he already knew who it was. His mother answered the door. Office Pierce, a long time friend of the family, asked his mother if she had seen her son. She told officers she hadn't seen him all day. After answering a few more questions and then a friendly invite to a family picnic, Officer Pierce went on his way. Chris was relieved that he didn't come inside.
Once he was sure that he was gone and his mother was back at the table reading the paper, Chris climbed down out of the ceiling. He cleaned the room he destroyed and found everything he had dropped. He then preceded to head out the door, but his mother stopped him in his tracks.
“Where are you going?”, she asked not looking up from her paper. “I'm going back outside, I will be back later”, he said grabbing the door knob and beginning to turn it. “Sit down Chris, we have to talk”, she said stopping him from opening the door. Chris already knew what the conversation would be like. The thing is, he didn't feel he needed to hear it. He was 15 years old and has always felt that he has had life figured out.
Hesitantly, he sat down. “Is this going to take all day, because I got things to do”, he said with an attitude. “No as a matter of fact it won't take all day. Chris it's like this, either change your ways or get out my house”, she said putting the paper down. “Where is that coming from?”, he asked shocked that his mother would even say such a thing. She got up and stood by the door. “Chris your recent behavior and the choices your making is very unbecoming and quite frankly I'm sick of it. So you have two choices. Get it together or get out”, she said holding the door open for him.
Chris sat at the table for a moment weighing the options of the choices his mother just gave him. He reluctantly decided that maybe getting out of her house wouldn't be so bad. He was his own man and he made his own rules and no one would take him seriously still living with his mother. So he got up and walked out the house. His mother closed the door behind him. She fell to her knees and silently began to pray.

Chris walked up and down the block all day often loitering in front of the store. Before he knew it, dawn was upon him. He left his mother house, so he didn't know where he was going to sleep, or what he was going to eat. He clearly didn't think his decision through. He walked up and down the many streets. A lonely sould wandering in the night. He eventually opted for a park bench.
Chris laid across the bench, not intending to go to sleep, but eventually his eyes got to heavy for him to keep open and the sandman got the best of him.


He awoke the next day, sun shining brighter than the many days before. It wasn't many people outside that day. As he sat up on the bench, he noticed a man dressed in all black across the street watching him. He didn't think much of it, so he dismissed the idea. Awaken in pain, he decided to go home that day to patch things up with his mother. If sleeping on a park bench was considered being his own man, then he wanted no parts of it.
Walking home, he spoke to many people in the neighborhood, but no one responded to him. It kind of bothered him that everyone was acting funny with him, but he chalked it up to their jealousy of him. When he reached his front yard, he noticed that their were cars lined up and down the block on both sides. Either it was a party or someone died. He walked into the house and seen a group of people standing in the kitchen, but he didn't see his mother. He walked into the living room where there was another group of people. Between those people, there was his mother sitting on the couch, holding a picture frame to her chest and crying. Chris went into the living room and sat next to his mother. He tried to console her, but it's like she wasn't hearing him or feeling his touch. Chris was beginning to feel as if everyone was ignoring him even his own mother.
Chris got up and went upstairs to his room. He looked out the window and seen the same man dressed in black looking up at him with his fiery red eyes. Chris became paranoid all over again and even a little afraid. He was being stalked by a man in black and everyone was ignoring him.
He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breathe. He was trying to decipher the situation in his head and figure out what was going on. When he opened his eyes, the scene around him had changed. He was no longer standing in a room, but he was sitting in an office. In a chair at a desk was a man, and across from him was his mother, with this picture frame in her hands, holding it tight to her chest. Chris couldn't hear anything, but he noticed the man writing something down on paper and his mother talking. Chris thought maybe his ears were plugged, so he dug in each ear with his finger. He begin to hear audible sounds again. He heard the end of his mother's sentence and the beginning of another question.
“Ms. Avery what color casket would you like? What was his favorite color? Do you want an open casket?”, asked the man writing down notes. “Well his favorite color was red, so I want something thats silver and lined with a red cloth. I do want an open casket. I want to see him one last time because I will never see him again”, she said through muffled tears. “Well Ms. Avery, we do give the family an option to spend as much time with the body as possible before the funeral. Would you like to dress him and grieve with him and become comfortable with the fact that he will no longer be here with us physically”, asked the man. “No, the funeral will be enough”, she said.
Chris stood there in awe. His favorite color was red, but he knew his grandfather liked silver. He hung his head and began to cry. His grandfather was as close to a father figure as he has ever had and he died. Chris went outside the building to get some fresh air. He had to somehow, someway cope with the fact that his grandfather died. When he got outside he noticed the guy in black was standing across the street, leaning against the phone pole. He walked across the street to the man. “Man, why are you following me? That is real sick and pathetic for a grown man to follow around a 15 year old boy. Are you a pervert?”, he asked increasingly angry at the man.
The man said nothing. He took his hands and put them over Chris's eyes. Fighting the man off, Chris looked up and realized the scene around him changed again. He was no longer outside, but he was standing inside a church. Every seat in that place was filled. He walked down the middle aisle of the church. Their was a silver casket in front, with red lining and his mother was over the casket crying.
He walked toward the casket so he could console his mother. He couldn't control his own tears as he walked towards the casket. He grabbed his mother shoulder and began to cry with her. At a glance inside the casket he couldn't help but notice that inside was someone who looked just like him. He turned around to face the congregation. In the front was his aunt's, his uncle's, and his grandfather.
He turned around and looked in the casket again and noticed it was him. He was dressed in an all white tux, with a red vest and tie underneath. He couldn't believe his eyes. He turned around once again and seen the man that was following him standing at the door motioning for him to come towards him. He couldn't move his feet to go towards him. He turned his attention back to his mother who he was trying to pull away from the casket, but he couldn't do it. He then noticed his uncle pull her away from the casket, so that it could be prepared to be shut. They wrapped his face and body up with the red cloth, pulled the light down, closed the casket and locked it. His mother dropped to her knees and screamed.

Chris woke up in a cold sweat. He was in his in the ceiling. He was still dressed in his street clothes. He jumped down out the ceiling, cleaned the room and then went toward the door. His mother was sitting at the table reading the paper. Deja Vu. “Chris sit down we need to talk”, she said never looking up from the paper.
“Look ma, I'm sorry. I will do better, I will make better decisions. I have a lot to live for and I take it all for granted. I'm out here playing russian roulette with my life and why? To fit in with a group of people who gon turn the other way if something was to ever happen. Whose loyalty only matters for the moment and not for life. Who mean me absolutely no good. I'm sorry. I'm done with everything. This isn't the life I want to live. I'm not ready to die on accident or because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I know GOD don't make no mistakes, but I want to fulfill his prophecy and I will just not the way I'm doing it now”, he said in tears.
His mother looked at him awkwardly and very strangely. “Well I guess I don't have to say anything. You said it all. I am very glad to know that you now understand that life isn't promised to any of us. We here today and gone tomorrow. You were destined for greatness, so do something great. You weren't born to fit in, you were born to stand out. So do something positive and shine your light upon the world”, she said hugging her son.
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