Glory

There's always hope of glory, no matter what.

Glory

 

 

Jonathon sat watching the other children play. The sun was at its late afternoon stage, and the orange rays could be seen infiltrating between the tree glades and buildings, children ran in and out of them like clueless fairies. Jonathon saw their smiles, he saw the way they ran, hopped, skipped and laughed. The giggling of girls and them running from boys, the careless nature of not being able to worry, and being able to cry and forget it all the next day. Jonathon had tears today, and he would the day after, and the day after that - as it was the same every day, his legs didn’t allow him to run, or to skip - he couldn’t chase girls, or fight boys - he only sat, and thought. He thought about what he could possibly do to use all this energy and excitement that built day by day, that only exchanged into sadness - an empty pit at the base of his stomach that grew with each reminder he would never be like the others - and knowing tomorrow would only be the same.

 

His wheelchair didn’t offer him the mobility he wished for, but one day he realised he had an open path he never once knew he had. There was a race, at school - and as usual Jonathon sat back and watched, sometimes in bitter envy. But what Jonathon didn’t know was that he was about to enter this race, thanks to a careless boy - who pushed his chair fast onto the track and into the race, he sprinted and pushed and pushed, until the wheels span so fast that they were bouncing, and the front part of Jonathon’s wheelchair lifted up slightly - he thought he would take off, blast off into the sky and into space. He soon passed all the other boys in the race - they watched in disbelief as his machine still continued down the track when the race had finished. He laughed, he laughed so hard - harder than he had ever laughed, and the kind of tears he had never drawn before. He kept going down that track, he didn’t stop.

 

Skip ten years. The Paralympics were tough to train for, even tougher for someone who was also was also soon to be married to a woman with a child on the way. The games were coming up soon, it would be his debut - all 800m must be focused on - every move must be calculated, every bit of energy exerted used into something that will lead him to victory. The pressure was too much for him to handle, he couldn’t let anyone down, and he had to win. He had to win. He hadn’t gone this far to come home to his soon to be family empty handed.

 

When Jonathon came out seventh place in that race with a torn shoulder muscle. The world that was once so hopeful turned to something greyer, more uncertain - tomorrow was once again dreaded, and emotion filled only one verse. He no longer felt like he could be the champion he dreamed of being - he was no longer special or anything more than anyone else. He was just that boy in the wheelchair. He only sat. He could only watch. Jonathon lost and he would never risk losing again.

 

When his wife divorced him a few years later, she moved country - taking custody of the child - his three year old daughter whom subsequently, he’d never see again for another 10 years. Jonathon hardly spoke to anyone, he hardly even paid attention to himself. Time went by and his mental and physical state would deteriorate over time, he’d forgotten who he was - he had forgotten why he was sad. His hair was shaven and his shirts were never clean. Ants claimed his kitchen, flies nested in the bathroom - and rats chewed at the foundations. He didn’t go outside for months at a time, living on rice and tinned food. Sometimes the mad old lady - Glory from next door would come over, she’d talk for a few hours about how her dead husband was once a successful entrepreneur; or how the rest of her family had ‘abandoned’ her, sometimes she brought her cats over, and best of all she brought food and weak attempts of cleaning. Jonathon thought she was a witch, but he didn’t mind " because he couldn’t be any worse off than he was already.

 

 Glory only wore purple, there was not a single colour of clothing that she wore that wasn’t purple, even her jewellery had purple gems and encrusted purple pieces. She covered her head with a purple scarf, as her hair most likely wasn’t purple - Jonathon liked to think it was red, it would explain a lot. Her eyes on the other hand were a brilliant blue, almost intimidatingly so - and when she gave eye contact they would fixate and turn still like stone. Jonathon was in love with Glory. Not in a way in which lovers are, but in a way that someone who depends on another person is - when they are the only other human being involved in their life. Jonathon was her prisoner, but she was also his guardian. She would show him light as much as she would show him dark. Jonathon despised her. Jonathon didn’t care about her, neither did she - but somehow she found it her last duty on earth to care for him in these ‘troubled times’.

 

‘Jonathon, Jonathon!’ She came out of the kitchen, with her over filled glass of whisky. Jonathon was sitting facing the window, he was indifferent to glory as she entered.

 ‘Let’s go for a walk Jonathon. No excuses!’

He let out a groan in discontent as she said this, still facing the window. She ignored that and began to wheel him away from the window and towards the front door. Jonathon muttered something, it was unheard and ignored. As they left the building, Jonathon sighed. It was a beautiful day - the kind of day that made everything instantly brighter. Children were playing on the street, they all looked round at Jonathon’s pale unkempt face, and his device - with that scary woman behind him " and the almost haunted looking house they came out from. She wheeled him forward down the drive. They kept staring, until Glory stared back.

 

‘We’re going to the park Jonathon, we’re going to the park’. She had a habit of repeating herself, it was one of things she did that troubled Jonathon greatly. ‘We’re going for a swim Jonathon! A swim!’ Jonathon looked around at her, but his neck didn’t extend that far so he wasn’t able to. She laughed as she caught sight of only the side of his concerned expression.

 ‘No’ Jonathon replied a few minutes later with what appeared to be great effort.

Author's Note

May continue this into a short story, I've already thought up of a fair few conclusions to it. But want to know what people honestly think. I was originally just attempting to convey emotion in writing, and it turned into something else. thanks!