Life's too Short for Regret.

             To change your life, is a rather difficult task. Sometimes you find yourself in a rough spot and there doesn’t seem to be a way out. Toward the end of my high school career I’d matured dramatically, however I’d lost so many relationships to pointless arguments that I didn’t know what to do. I graduated with out a single memory to cherish and no one to cry over when I left home on that brutally warm day. It seemed like I no longer had anything to lose. But I would soon learn how precious those years really were.

 

            I was bent over; my head crammed into the back of my closet when I felt a bony finger slip down my a*s crack.

 

            “What the f**k!” I snapped, flinging around to see who’d done it.

 

            My mom stood, snorting with laughter, “Please tell me you’re searching for a belt!”

 

            “You know, I’m starting to think this scholarship was a blessing from god. The concept that I’m not going to have to deal with this ever again, is almost too good to be true,” I teased.

 

            “I knew you’d grow out of your silly atheist ways!”

 

            My smile vanished and I narrowed my eyes to make sure she knew she’d gone too far. My beliefs weren’t silly and it was not, “Just a phase.” She sighed and pouted out of the room, leaving me to finish packing.

 

            I stumbled out to my rusted tempo with my final basket of art work and books. They were the few things in my life that kept me sane. The door handle stuck when I tugged, forcing me to set the basket at my feet and use both hands to pry the two-toned, silver and rust, door open. The basket barely fit making the mountain of random things too high; I couldn’t see Out of my back window.

 

            “See ya around Christmas time,” I blurted out. My mom was watching me from the front porch. Her eyes livid. It felt like she’d never accept me. I smoothly slipped into the front seat, while slamming the door. I didn’t look back as I skidded out of the dirt driveway. Even if I had, the dust would have kept our eyes from meeting.

 

            The road was endless. I had my music blaring, yet it wasn’t enough to block out my nervous thoughts. Could things really change? Do I have a chance of being happy now?  My stomach turned over, twisting into a tight knot. My throat was raw from swallowing, or was I just developing a cold?

 

            My gas gage was low; corn fields surrounded me, so when I noticed a gas station up ahead, I stopped. There was no telling when I’d find another.

 

            The heat hit me hard when I climbed out of the car. “Jesus!” I moaned and walked around to the pump where I hustled to fill my tank and replace the handle. I licked my cracking lips, pushed my hands through my hair and began walking to the entrance of the gas station. A man stood by the tall, steel door. His hair was a long, deep red mop. It hung covering most of his young face. His eyes met mine, and I noticed his eyebrow was pierced twice, side by side. I looked away, but his gaze followed me through the door and into the rush of air conditioning.

 

            The large room was filled with shelves of candy and coolers full of drinks decorated the counter. I chose icy water and stood at the cash register. No one occupied it, and the only person around was the red head.  I turned and watched him. He was now lighting a cigarette. His tattered jeans looked as if the bottoms had melted ways in the heat. Only a fe He sucked the cigarette until only the filter remained, then flicked it to the ground came into the air condition.

 

            “Excuse me,” I pleaded, “Do you know where the clerk is?”

 

            He stopped in front of the door; he looked me up and down then turned to lock the door.

 

            “What are you doing!?” I insisted. 

 

            He tucked his hair behind his ears, revealing many piercings, and without a word he approached me. I was shocked; my eyes searched for an answer and eventually fell to his hands which held a rather large knife.

 

   

 

 

Reviews

[Jonathan Bryant Dean]

I see a rough draft, and a potential for a good story.

There are several typographical erors, and some incomplete transitional phrases.

I am not sure what -sideways- found to be cool...

[nostal]

Cool