A life wasted

story of a young man who sees no future

In the dim glow of the street lamps we see a young man walking aimlessly through the city streets. He had just left the Firestone, a noisy, smell ridden bar where he works as a bartender. Correction, where he had worked. He was fired today. For reasons he failed to understand. The reasons only made him angry. When his boss fired him he left the bar slamming the door and shaking every bottle in the place.

It began to rain and as he walked the cool drops seem to ease the anger. But then his mood faded into depression. He was not depressed just for the loss of his job; he was depressed about his whole life. Losing his source of income today was just the tip of the iceberg. Two weeks ago his live-in girlfriend walked out and never came back. He was not even home when she left. A tiny slip of paper was tacked on his door and all it said was goodbye. To this day he doesn’t know where she is.

Last month his father passed away after a year long battle with cancer. The young man had sat by his father’s side watching the old man’s life fade away day by day. The only consolation was that the father had died peacefully. Like going to sleep.

Now he was alone. No one to speak to, no one to tell his troubles to. Alone and depressed. He kept walking and walking then he realized he was lost. How could he have been so stupid? Now he was alone and depressed and lost and wet.

He looked around the area he was in. He looked for the street sign that would tell him where he was. In the darkness and rain he finally spied the green sign. Adams Street. That is not so great. He was at least a mile from home. Now what does he do? He was getting tired from all that walking. Up ahead he sees a bus stop. No cover but at least he now has a way home. It will feel good in the heat of the bus. He could be dry by the time he got halfway home.

Standing near the yellow bus stop sign he looked around at the other people also waiting for the bus. They were a strange looking bunch but there was also something familiar about them.

Standing by the sign was a girl who was definitely into Goth. All dressed in black. Black shoes and dark fishnet stockings. A lacy black skirt, a black velvet top and a black leather jacket.

All topped off with jet black hair and black eye shadow and black fingernails. Everything about her spoke of a cold and dark heart. No emotion showed in her face. Her eyes were fixed on nothing; she was staring straight ahead into space. She spoke to no one and she would remain silent if anyone spoke to her. He wondered if her thoughts were as cold as her heart.

Then a spark appears. A mark of humanity among the dark trappings. A single shiny pink heart tattoo placed below her eye like a sparkling tear. Maybe a reminder of what was lost or a memory of light inside the cover of darkness.

Gothic with a heart. Ironic in some ways.

The young man scans further through the stop. The rain started to subside but the streets still gleamed with the remaining moisture.

Turning his head he saw him. A stern and lifeless figure of a man. Adorned with all the proper accessories. All that make him what he is. A very expensive three piece suit. The tie with coordinating colors. His shoes that shined even brighter than the large gold watch he wore around his wrist.

He walks around with his hands clasped behind his back. His back is straight and stiff. His head is held high and he does not look at anyone nor does he speak to anyone. His mind is on his business. He does not think of pleasure or fun. He finds them distracting. But some say he does get pleasure from his business, taking money from others and giving nothing in return. He does not smile or grin. His life appears cold and hard. He likes to keep it organized and perfect.

The young man tries to look away then he sees the unusual. A crack in the man’s wall. A break in the man’s armor. A simple little thing that becomes a big deal. It is a handkerchief in the pocket of his suit coat. Not unusual of course, but this handkerchief has pictures on it. Kittens and flowers. Pink pictures drawn by a child’s hand. A child lost many years ago. A daughter he had lost in a car accident and the handkerchief is a beloved memory of what he had lost. Another spark of humanity.

Turning away from the man he sees an old woman hidden in the shadows. Her face is hidden by a dirty dingy shawl. Her clothes are ragged and at first glance, her shoes are a dirty brown.

At a closer look, she is wearing no shoes; her feet are covered with mud and grime. Her hands which hold onto the shawl are badly wrinkled and red. She looks to be over a hundred years old. Her face showing a long life filled with stress and sadness. No one speaks to her and she speaks to no one.

As the man gazes upon the dreary souls around him, he begins to think about his own life. It was a life once filled with happiness, joy, and love. Now all that is gone.

He became a workaholic, like the businessman. He never smiled anymore, like the gothic girl. If only he could find a spark of life in himself. He had no tattoos; he never got married and had no children. His girlfriend left him because of his lack of emotion. His life had become so dark and mundane.

He looked again at the old woman. What spark of humanity showed on her? Her body is old and wrinkled, her clothes tattered. She has no tattoo showing and there are no childlike images on her clothes.

Then he saw them. Partially hidden by the dirty strands of hair shone two of the most beautiful blue eyes. They sparkled like stars, the color a bright and steely blue.

The longer he looked at them, the brighter they became. Suddenly a sense of peace came over him. A calm to his life. Wherever he looked things were moving slowly. Then there was total silence. No sound was coming from anywhere. He did not hear the bus drive up.

As he stared into those eyes he felt himself floating. The ones he saw before were fading away into a fog. The woman looked away from the man and towards the front of the bus. He turned to look at what she saw. There on the ground was a figure. A body laying in the gutter partially hid by the wheel of the bus that lay on top of it. The man looked closely at the face of the figure.

It was his.

Reviews

[DIANE J.T.]

This was a really good read, nice flow.