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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Death · #1362058
A very short tale of who humans truly are...
“A brief candle; both ends burning
An endless mile; a bus wheel turning
A friend to share the lonesome times
A handshake and a sip of wine
So say it loud and let it ring
We are all a part of everything
The future, present and the past
Fly on proud bird
You're free at last.”
-Charlie Daniels




Slowly arising from his bed, he knew this was it. There was no turning back. In front of him was everything he needed. He decided on everything he would do. He was going to go to the alley, near the corner of 3rd and Midway. No one would ever find him there. The Police would give up on the search. Nobody ever went back there. He would become Joseph Phillus – The boy who disappeared. He grabbed the pills, the small quaint bottle of water, and a picture of his mother, his father, the family; what could have been. Here, he was holding on to all he had left in life. There was nothing he could do now. Slowly and quietly he escaped the house and relocked the doors. He walked down, past the market, past the pizza shop, past the ice cream parlor, where the family used to stop for ice cream on the way home from church on Sunday. All these memories were soon to be forgotten. Everything was coming to a close. He walked beyond sparsely placed cars, in awe at the perfection of parallel parking. He had never really noticed the small things in life before. Finally appeared the theater where he had performed in his first concert in the junior church choir in 2nd grade. He admired the architecture, the genius design of the stone cold bats hanging from the balconies. How lucky they were, just to have not a care in the world. He would join them soon, in pleasant lifeless sleep. He finally reached his destination, however, and the adrenaline began to kick in. The farther in he walked, the more he began to tremble, down to the core of his bones. When he finally approached his destination, he sat and began to ponder the questions that had haunted him for all of his short life. When he finally decided he was ready to do it, he took one last look at the picture, his future that never came true. Moments later, he lay on the ground, motionless. Everything was escaping from him. All was slowly slipping away. Just as his eyes closed for a final time, a man came by with nothing but dirty old rags and a blanket and made a sacrifice of his own. Carefully laying the old torn blanket across the chest of the young boy, He looked at him once and left him there just to think, so he could sleep and think.
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