Destined for Failure

This short story was written with a writing prompt in mind. [WP] A watch is invented where it says exactly how long until you meet your soulmate. It hits its climax with a focus on anxiety.

“Get out of the car.” The young boy bit his lip as his mother directed him. “Get out of the car and go get your sibling.” The boy held his head low with fear.

His mother chanted offensive and disgusting remarks while repeatedly whacking at him, questioning him. Tears and sticky saliva streamed down his face as he wondered why his sibling was taking so long. He too questioned himself, not knowing what the feeling was that restricted his ability to open the car door. Without saying a word, there was an unbuckling of a seat belt, and he sat up from his seat. His mother gazed up at him with her droopy eyes from long nights of gambling.

The young boy pranced with terror in between the streetlights and the natural darkness. He raised his hands to his shoulders and lifted his knees, dashing through the faint coldness without a glance back. In his memories, the two buildings across the vacated car dealership that his parents visited for more selfish reasons.

He charged through empty streets to busier ones, remembering the moments that he learned directions in order to walk by himself when he was forgotten. He spoke to himself, there was never anyone that really cared for him. There was no fear in his eyes, in truth he was always alone. Restless drivers are able to curse their faults out at anyone else recklessly running from a traumatic event. The young boy was not a fool, though he always doubted himself on the many occasions he was told otherwise. Out of the things he did escaped, the boy was able to face the reality of humans needing time to develop and understand things.

He wondered if we were all destined for failure. Latched on to a long, rusted faded copper, and mesh patterned metal fence, was a “Park in the Rear" sign. What was held beyond this sign were two buildings, a strip club and an adult video shop, as noticeable as any other buildings. The young boy was eventually picked up that night.

The person who found him was a pimp who shipped him off to a place where he was then sold. His mother never did put in the effort to try and find him after his disappearance. “Look here!” A woman that looked to be in her fifties, reaching sixties, held a small box in front of him. The young boy was still shaken, he had never stepped foot in another person’s house other than the one he abandoned. With a widening grin on her face, she became impatient and wriggled the box into the boy’s hands.

After taking off the lid of the box, he was reminded of recent placed flyers that he had seen throughout every street. He never dared to imagine the day when he could buy his own single watch. He thought of buying one just for the anticipation of waiting. In front of his eyes was a set of two watches. He blinked his eyes at the differing times of the two watches with a blank stare. “Well, don’t just look at them!” The fairly elderly woman spat out with glistening eyes that held an unusual pale color. The woman purchased the boy with no extreme intention of harm, she was lonely and was currently losing her mind over it.

Without hesitation the boy reached in the box before handing the woman her watch and picking up his own in a subtle movement. The woman put on her watch without even checking the time, she focused her still gaze on random parts of the room. Without another word, she walked away into an empty hallway and then into a faraway room, shutting the door behind her.

His watch read, ’12 days, 8 hours, 29 minutes’. Days passed as the young boy sat in the same spot and the lady was not coming out of the room. Repeatedly, he stared at his watch until he could mentally countdown if he concentrated. ’6 days, 2 hours, 3 minutes’. The numbers, wristband, and details of the watch were beginning to look identical. The boy remembered the woman’s watch that read ’negative 6 years, 9 months, 14 days, 3 hours and 9 minutes’, The boy figured that it told the day the old woman met her husband who must had passed away and she bought him as a replacement.

’1 day, 0 hours, 7 minutes’. He had no idea of who his watch was counting down for.

’0 days, 0 hours, 2 minutes’. Leaving the house, on instinct he began to run. The young boy ran without purpose into the flooded streets in which he memorized a way back to for a reason that he was uncertain of.

The boy suddenly stopped and looked down at his watch. ’0 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes’. 

Peering back up, he recognized a familiar face. With a soft voice he called out to that person, “Mom?”

 The young boy stood and pondered if his mother had thought of him in that short while of being apart. 

A car came speeding by, running the boy over and crushing his watch.

Author's Note

Please leave any of your thoughts. I have not wrote anything for a long time.