An Hour Lost

A Story by Mugen Styles

A story about a young man who thinks that money is everything.

Sunlight creeps around every thin line between the blinds of a young man’s room. The room itself is fairly minuscule, or at least it appears that way seeing as how most of the floor space is taken up by only three items; a bed, upon which the young man sleeps, a dresser five drawers tall with not a single piece of fabric astray, and a simple wooden nightstand that almost seems as if it was carved the day before. An antique analog clock sits upon this nightstand. The short hand points just ahead of the number seven, whereas the longer hand stretches out towards the five.

Focusing on the young man it’s apparent that he can’t be anything over twenty, his eyes begin jolting around sporadically and suddenly he awakens, eyes wide open but yet to make a move. His head tilts upwards, directing his attention to the antique clock. Then as if he doesn't believe what he sees he picks up a fairly beat-up and battered flip phone from the bed, sits up, flicks his wrist and looks at the digital time on the screen.

YOUNG MAN: F**k

His cell phone starts playing one of the most generic ringtones ever before heard.
He answers it.

YOUNG MAN: Hey, hey, I know, I’m on my way right now, I’ll be there before eight.

CALLER: Before eight? You were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago.

YOUNG MAN: Yeah I know, I uh, missed the bus.

CALLER: Just get here Oz.

A low tone signals the caller has hung up. The young man still replies.

OSWALD: Good plan, never would have thought up that s**t on my own.

Once again he flicks his wrist. The phone collapses on top of itself.

Five minutes later Oz is in his uniform headed out the door. He grabs a large black coat that is quite obviously too big for him, and in one motion puts a single arm, then the other through each sleeve of the coat while managing to close the door behind him. He locks the door and starts pacing down the street. His head down, eyes scanning every crack and crevice of the sidewalk. Out of the corner of his eye he notices a glimmer and immediately kneels down, retrieving his new-found treasure. A nickel, five cents, he immediately calculates in his head; six thousand four hundred and eighty nine dollars aaaand sixty four cents thanks to Mr. Jefferson here. He continues on his predetermined path for approximately three minutes, managing to find two more pennies along the way boosting his grand total to end with sixty six cents by the time he manages to reach the bus stop. Flick, the phone is open again, the screen indicates 7:38am. Without even looking at the schedule he knows that the next bus is supposed to arrive at 7:45, however he also knows it won’t actually arrive until 7:48 at the earliest. With that, Oz sits down on a bench near the bus stop and counts out the exact change needed for his voyage. As he does so a man approaches. His appearance somehow indescribable, his face seemed to change features and yet stay the same all at once. His eyes weren't a distinct color, more a swirl of different colors as if a well-used painter’s palette laid deep beneath them. Even his hair was hard to pinpoint, a flat cap hiding most of it. Some of his curls protruded out from the cap, but each curl seemed to darken and lighten itself as he got closer with every step, tricking Oz’s eyes into seeing his hair as blonde, but then black a few steps later. The man’s eyes locked with Oz’s and his appearance abruptly stopped changing, making Oz question whether it was just the lighting or his surroundings causing the illusion.

MAN: Yo, this seat taken?

As an answer, Oz shakes his head. Then he notices that the man now appears about his age this close up, did he look like that before?

MAN: Don’t mind if I do then.

The man sits down, a little close for comfort, but he seems friendly enough so Oz decides not to move as to not seem rude.

MAN: Well what’s your name man? If we’re going to be sitting here for the next ten minutes we might as well talk about something.

OSWALD: Uhh, well you can call me Oz, that’s what most people call me.

MAN: Like the Wizard of Oz?

Oz sighs.

OSWALD: If you only knew how many times I've heard that one. You know most people just ignore me whenever I’m sitting here, I’m just surprised you didn't sit down and pull out some smartphone.

MAN: Oh I don’t have a phone, I find it gets in the way of communication.

OSWALD: Isn't that what phones are for?

MAN: Maybe they were at first, but not anymore. Now they’re more of a distraction than anything.

OSWALD: Distraction? From what?

MAN: Life.

The man sits there for a second not saying anything.

OSWALD: What did you say your name was?

MAN: I didn't. You can call me Guy.

OSWALD: Like Fieri?

GUY: God no. I’m happy to say I don’t hear that one often.

Oz half chuckles to himself and then takes out his phone again to check the time, 7:41.

GUY: Oh and you’re the one complaining about others pulling out there phones.

OSWALD: Hey, I’m just checking the time, it’s not like I’m playing Clash of Clans or anything. I've already lost an hour of my shift today because I woke up late and I don’t need some ‘Guy’ giving me crap for it.

GUY: Got damn dude, chill. I can see where your stress lies immediately, work.

OSWALD: Well yeah, of course, you could probably say that to anyone, but it’s not like I can do anything about it, I gotta make that cash, just like everyone else.

GUY: Is that why you scour the sidewalk for change?

Oz goes silent for a second.

OSWALD: Umm… what?

GUY: Oh you didn't notice? I wasn't that far behind you when you were walking over here, I could see you looking for change all over the place.

OSWALD: So what? I mean, money’s tight, always has been, I get what I can even if it is just some sidewalk change.

GUY: I don’t blame you, no harm done, but you’re looking too hard.

OSWALD: What do you mean by that?

GUY: The more you seek something, the more elusive it can become.

OSWALD: What are you, a fortune cookie?

GUY: What I’m saying is, sometimes it’s best to let things fall into place instead of forcing them. Sometimes you find what you’re really looking for when you aren't looking at all.

OSWALD: That sounds like a lot of bullshit to me"

Oz laughs and so does Guy, but in a flash Guy’s face looks as serious as ever.

GUY: It may sound so, but you did miss this on your walk.

Guy pulls out a fifty dollar bill.

OSWALD: No way, I would have seen that if it was on the ground.

GUY: Oh but that’s where you made your mistake, you were so busy looking for money where you expected it to be, you passed up the big fish.

OSWALD: Where was it then?

GUY: Up in one of those low hanging branches back there.

Guy points back down the path to a couple of trees that were considerably smaller than the ones surrounding it. The branches drooped over the path low enough that you’d have to duck if you were about six feet tall. They created a sort of archway, the sun continuing to rise behind the treetops, making the scene movie worthy. Oz never noticed these trees’ on his walk before, but then again his head always was faced downwards.

GUY: Who ever said money didn't grow on trees.

Guy smiled slyly looking quite pleased with himself.

OSWALD: How do you expect me to believe that was up in some random tree?

GUY: I don’t, but if you want to you can, I have no reason to tell you anything but the truth. That’s why I’m here actually, to tell you the truth.

OSWALD: What…? What truth.

Guy’s throat starts getting raspy and his breathing gets real deep.

GUY: Oz…I am your father!

OSWALD: Oh, f**k off!

GUY: I’m just messing with you man, trying to lighten the mood a little.

OSWALD: Was the mood dim?

GUY: Money isn’t everything Oz.

OSWALD: …Come again?

GUY: You can’t let money control your life, the pursuit of money isn’t worth the end game, let it come to you.

OSWALD: Money isn’t just going to ‘come to me’ I mean what do you want me to do, quit my job and just walking around until I find fifty dollar bills in the trees?

Guy snickers.

GUY: Of course not, but here, have this.

He hands Oz the fifty dollar bill.

OSWALD: I can’t take this, you found it, I mean, you probably didn’t even find it. What? Ya feel sorry for me or something? Just because I’m struggling with money doesn’t mean I don’t have any, I just do my best not to use any of the funds I’ve accumulated, okay?

GUY: I don’t feel sorry for you, at least not for the reasons you suspect. What are you saving all this moolah for though?

OSWALD: I mean… money is power right? If I can just save up enough the possibilities will be endless, I will be able to do anything I can dream of.

GUY: Is that so?

OSWALD: Well yeah, I mean that’s how the world works.

GUY: Maybe, but you forgot about all the factors. Let me ask you something Oz, are you scared of dying?

OSWALD: No, I mean I guess I just don’t really ever think about it.

GUY: Well you probably should, what’s going to happen to all of that dough if you do?

OSWALD: Well…

GUY: Say this bus that we’re waiting for is driven by a lunatic, he nears the stop but doesn’t actually stop and instead turns us both into road kill, what then?

OSWALD: That would never happen.

GUY: Crazier things have, so who are you to say that it wouldn’t? Who’s to say that in another universe you weren’t decapitated by that tree limb back there?

OSWALD: Now you’re just being ridicu-

Before Oz could finish his sentence things started to get blurry, he wiped his eyes to no avail. For a second all he could see was black and then all of a sudden everything was clear again.

GUY: I am not, anything can happen if you’re open minded enough.

At that moment the horn from a bus could be heard, guessing from the sound, it was only a street or so away. This wouldn’t be of any alarm, however, the horn didn’t stop, and it continued to ring out as if someone had fell asleep on the steering wheel. Then from around the corner a deep maroon bus with advertisements for some law firm materialized from around the corner, cutting the turn so sharp the bus itself was on two wheels if only for a second. Before Oz had any time to think the bus came hurtling towards Guy and him and then…

Nothing. Utter darkness once again. This felt much different than the two seconds of just not being able to see anything though. He couldn’t visualize, or even feel anything. Hell, could he ever think? He sat there suspended in nothingness simply existing. Then he finally did feel something, his pockets grew heavier and heavier.

DEEP VOICE: SIX THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED AND THIRTY NINE DOLLARS AND SIXTY SIX CENTS.

No more weight was added to either pocket once this voice spoke to him. It was hard to interpret whether the voice was inside or outside of his head, not to mention it sounded familiar for some reason. He tried to think on that familiar feeling but as soon as the attempt was made the voice blared out again.

DEEP VOICE: SIX THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED AND THIRTY NINE DOLLARS AND SIXTY FIVE CENTS. SIXTY FOUR. SIXTY THREE.

The voice sped up. With every descending number Oz could see his fortune slip away penny by penny, floating away from his physical body. The voice now spoke so fast it was hard to even make out what numbers it was spouting anymore.

DEEP VOICE: FOURTHREETWOONNNNEEE…. ZERO.

As the word zero emitted from the darkness, time seemed to come to a stop. Zero, zero, zero, it was repeated over and over and over again until Oz couldn’t take it anymore. He gathered any strength he could find within himself and mustered a faint scream that didn’t at all compare to the overbearing boom of the word zero. Then as quick as it had begun it all ended.

GUY: Yo man, you missed your bus.

Oz opened up his eyes to find he was sitting on the bus stop bench next to Guy still, not dead, and definitely not being run over by a bus with Morgan and Morgan’s faces on it.

OSWALD: What the f**k man, what just happened?!

GUY: Umm, you mean the part where you fell asleep or the part where you missed your bus?

OSWALD: Missed my…

Oz flipped open his phone again to find the digital interface beaming: 8:00am.

OSWALD: F**k… oh f**k, oh f**k, oh f**k.

GUY: Hey it’s okay man, it’s just a day of work.

OSWALD: You don’t understand! I need every hour I can get so I can save up my m-

GUY: Money. Money, money, money, haven’t you learned anything? Still talking about getting the big bucks huh Oz? Even after getting hit by a big bus?

OSWALD: Wha…How could you possibly know that I just dreamed about that?!

GUY: Dreamed? Well aren’t we imaginative.

Guy laughs to himself as if it what he said was some sort of inside joke. As he does his features begin to change again, causing him age from twenty to… forty maybe? Late thirties to be generous.

GUY: Anyways kid, I gotta get going, I wouldn't fret over your paycheck though. It won’t be hurt any. It’s your day off if you haven’t realized that yet.

Guy pulls out a flip phone that looks completely identical to Oz’s and punches in some numbers. Oz can hear the ringing from Guy’s phone and after two cycles of it his own phone starts to ring and vibrate in his pocket. He pulls it out and looks over at Guy in wonder, then slowly opens he phone.

OSWALD: Hello…?

CALLER: Where the f**k are you Oz, you’re over an hour late now, not only are you missing out on your shift, I’m docking your pay.

Through the phone Oz hears his boss’s voice, but he sit’s and watches as Guy speaks each and every word into his own phone.

OSWALD: What in the s**t is going on?

GUY: That’s a question we all tend to ask, more frequently than you might think.

And with that Guy walked away.

Oz never did see Guy again. He often contemplates the situation and cannot come up with an accurate answer to whether or not Guy was ever a real person. In the end it really doesn’t matter. Just like the fifty dollar bill that currently occupies the drawer of a certain nightstand. Not to say anything in Oz’s life really changed, he continues to save money and work a s****y minimum wage job, but his thought process isn’t focused on all the guap. Ever since meeting with Guy he hasn’t been able to stop thinking of all the ways he can use his cash to make his life worth living. He spent over half of his savings to start up a charity foundation entitled “Money Isn’t Everything” that in turn ended up hoarding most of the money for themselves to get the word out about their charity. After that he proceeded to do what he set out to accomplish without the charity, helping people who were in his own situation see the light he was shown.

One day every week he still goes out to that same bus stop and takes an hour of someone’s time to make them realize what took under thirty minutes for Guy to show him. Dollars and cents don’t mean a thing until you give your life a purpose to thrive on. You can work your life away and earn as much money as possible and still never do anything you actually wanted to do. To gain this revelation, is well worth an hour lost.