It is only so long before one man can't take the stresses of poverty any longer... before the hunger and the greed takes over and the morals of society matter not. I cannot continue like this. Today is the day I take what is not rightfully mine and enjoy it. I have suffered far too long while they all prosper. Stolen coins, pilfered bread, it is not enough. I need something big. I need something to completely turn my life around. Today is the day.
I woke up to the cold patter of the rain. I was drenched from head to toe, shivering uncontrollably. I made my way from the hard park bench over to the nearby synagouge and pulled on the door. Locked. It was late at night and the only light came from the windows of the towering apartment complex. Lucky bastards with their soothing heaters and their comfortable beds. Here I am standing out in the cold rain with no shelter and they have all the comforts they need and more.
I walked over to the nearby flower shop, hoping the owner was foolish enough to keep the door unlocked, but alas. The window, however, was opened just the slightest bit, maybe I could squeeze myself through and escape the rain. However, no matter how much I tried, it was hopeless. As skinny as I was, the window would not give enough space.
I walked into the middle of the street, exposed to all of the rain and sat down, knowing at any second a car could emerge from the darkness and take away the cold and he hunger. I stared at the diner, dreaming of what lied just beyond the door. I knew that in the morning, the smells would fill my nostrils and I would once again struggle against the urges to burst in there and grab the food off an unfortunate man's plate.
Jealousy. Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy.
Just then, two blinding lights approached from Baker Street. Right before they came close enough to end it all, a loud screeching sound filled the neighborhood, and the lights veered a sharp right. All of this was followed by the shout "Damn low-life!" from late night bastard behind the wheel.
Those words were just enough to set me off. I grabbed the nearest chunk of gravel and hurled it at the car. The glass shattered and I ran off towards the park to escape the wrath of the driver, however, after a few strides, I noticed that there was an absence of an engine roaring after me, or the cursing of an enraged late night bastard.
I stopped and turned around and faced the scene. Only the low rumble from the stationary vehicle could be heard. I cautiously walked up to the car and looked through the shattered window. Shards of glass had embedded themselves inside the driver's face and neck. The chunk of gravel lay in the passenger seat. It had gained a splotch of crimson on one side, obtained from its skull crushing collision.
I stood there, shocked. Amazed. Guilty. Empowered.
This is what it is like to be free.
5 comments:
In places such as Washington Heights, people have problems with drugs, violence and many other things. Their circumstances can sometimes be so terrible that they can be influenced to make bad decisions resulting with them in jail, homeless, or even dead. In this place there are people who are comfortable with settling for less, there are some who have hope and try to escape by doing better for themselves, and then there are those who have already made it to success however the city's shadow catches up with them and shatters their lives. The question is "Where does Lucy Evan's life fit?"
"I am so done with this sh@*!"
I woke up from a dream on my couch. I never moved from where I cried and fell asleep from my exhaustion from last night's terrible event. My dream was about me changing from a perfectionist girl who never did much of anything when it came to enjoying life's thrills, to a more mature woman who does whatever the hell she feels like when she feels like. I woke up feeling empowered, free, and liberated! I liked that feeling.
"From here on I'm going to enjoy what life has given me. I'm going to live everyday like it was my last."
The mugging experience showed me how easy it was for life to be taken. I was dissatisfied with how I lived so conservatively, like I was afraid or something. Even though I was a victim, my perseverance has made me stronger. I will forever stand tall. That night I suffered from terror, but that morning I was no longer afraid.
I got on the phone with another doctor telling him I needed him to come in for me because I had to take a break from everything that happened. "Thank you very much and I appreciate your understanding." I'm determined to make my future better than my past. I got dressed, and left...Where? I don't know.
It was a rainy and windy outside of course. Washington Heights never gets any nice weather, but it didn't matter. I walked down a couple blocks to the bar. I saw Dominic outside the door smoking a cigarette.
"Could I get one?" I asked.
"Sure, but I've never seen you smoke before."
"Yeah I know, I'm changing things up from now on."
We finished our smokes, then I walked inside the bar. I looked around and found the bar. I drank till I couldn't feel my stress. I wasn't drunk, but I was "happy"...alright I'll be honest, I was DRUNK off my ass. Either way I was having a good time. It was a nice feeling not having to be under so much pressure. I was finally able to relax.
Then I met a guy that only ever existed in my dreams. He was tall, dark and handsome. It was like heaven when I looked into his eyes. It was like the whole bar didn't exist anymore, time stood still, and every noise was silent it was just me and him... "BLLUUUGH"
I felt so sick suddenly, I drank too much alcohol and that cigarette from earlier didn't do my stomach any good either.
"O my god! You don't look so hot" He said
"Thanx, I don't feel so hot either...too much drinking for me tonight." I said frowning.
I was so messed up I couldn't see straight, or walk straight at that. I told him I was going home, but he told me I shouldn't go alone. I attempted to walk out the door, but he stopped me. I told him I'd be fine, but he wasn't convinced.
"Here, lemme take you home...please?"
I could see that he wasn't going to take no for an answer,"Okay okay you can take me home."
As he drove his car towards the Washington Heights building, I saw a girl looking in the window at the flower shop. (I wonder what in the world that skinner girl wanted to do with flowers at this time of night.) Instead of taking the stairs, he had me go up to the sixth floor in the elevator. We made it the door of my apartment, but by the time we walked in everything just went black...
The guy's name was Mark, and for some reason he cared about me. He wasn't like the "other" guys. I could tell just by looking at him. I was really drowsy and I woke up in the comforts of my soft bed. Mark was leaning over me and talking to me quietly saying,
"You're going to be okay, I would never let anything happen to someone like you. Thank you for letting me get you home safe".
I smiled barely able to open my eyes, and whispered, "No thank you".
He proceeded to walk out my room heading for the door. I thought to myself how sweet he was to me, then I realized that very sweetness was about to leave, and there was a possibility that I may never see him again!
"Wait!" I said as loud as I could. "Don't leave now, it's almost four o'clock in the morning. Will you stay here and keep me company?"
"Well I don't know.."
"...but I want you to"
We locked eyes for a second till he said he would. He pulled up a chair near me and sat there till I fell asleep. That was the first time in a long time that I've gone to sleep to content and happy.
A small sound was buzzing so light, yet so clear,
Becoming a tune as Snazy approached near,
The old busted bar with the dim, blinking sign,
Some song there was playing, one hard to define.
A voice with a pitch so pure, loud, and new,
Like a crack in the silence, a sudden breakthrough.
She glanced at the window and right there she saw,
The sweet southern cowboy, eyes closed, singing tall.
But before she could move, the man looked up to see,
Two bright gleaming eyes staring back from Snazy.
The butterflies jumped in her stomach that turned,
Right upside down for the man whom she yearned.
Her feet moved so fast without thought, she then ran,
Away from the bar, far away from the man.
"How embarrassing!" Snazy shouted out to the sky,
But her smile grew bigger without quite knowing why.
A glimpse of the sun, peaking out from behind,
The usual grey clouds that she grew to not mind,
Made her realize how fast her heart skipped a beat,
For that country boy singer she was dying to meet!
She sat in the diner, her thoughts scattered far,
After ordering her blueberry pancake she saw,
A man crouched and lonely on the bench right outside,
She noticed his weakness, his hunger that cried,
From beneath the dark shadows that set on his face,
Something had to be done in order to replace,
The emptiness lurking above and beneath,
The man filled with nothing but deep sighs of grief.
In half of a moment she walked out the door,
Giving food to the homeless man, needing it more.
"I overlook all the things that I have here,
Taking good life for granted, not facing my fear,
A great opportunity to see what could be,
I can't run away from a true love story."
So she turned right around and thought it all through,
Following her heart toward the love that she knew.
George Jefferson - A Week Off
George Jefferson hurt. A lot. He opened his eyes and slowly lifted himself out of bed. He stared into space for a few seconds, then looked at his right arm. The bandage was so itchy. He hadn't noticed the shard of glass wedged in his arm after he had fallen through the skylight at Oscar's until he got back to his apartment that night. He had rushed straight to the hospital (after changing out of his costume, of course), where the doctors where able to remove the shard. Unfortunately, they also said that, in order to heal completely, Jefferson would have to avoid lifting heavy objects with that arm; heavy objects like his sword.
So Jefferson had decided to take a week off. He had hid his sword and costume underneath some floorboards in his apartment and done nothing for the past few days. This morning he felt terrible. He was bored and tired, and couldn't shake a feeling of uselessness. However, he knew that if he took to the streets to fight crime too soon, he would risk injuring himself permanently. He decided to take a walk to get some fresh air.
He left the building. It was cool and overcast. A strong breeze blew past as soon as he stepped on to the sidewalk. Not the best day for a walk, he thought, but then again it had been this way all week. He walked down to the park. He passed a young woman walking her dog. She smiled awkwardly at him. Jefferson smiled back. There was a paperboy at the end of the street. The boy was probably homeless, thought Jefferson. He walked up to the boy and bought a newspaper. He gave the boy a twenty. "Keep the change." said George. He was feeling generous. "Gee, thanks mister!" said the boy. Jefferson just smiled at him. He walked away and opened the paper. There was a story about the incident at Oscar's last week. Police were investigating Machelli for opening fire in a public place, and Oscar for the illegal gambling. George smiled even more. Taking a walk was definitely a good idea. Then another cold when blew through and chilled Jefferson to the bone.
He heard the paperboy yell "Hey!" Jefferson turned around. An angry, bitter-looking homeless man was running the opposite way down the street. "He took my money!" yelled the paperboy. Jefferson didn't even blink. He dashed down the street and clocked the homeless man in his face - with his left hand, of course. The man fell to his knees, cursing and screaming something about rich people. Jefferson twisted the man's arm around to his back and plucked the bag of money out of his hand. Jefferson couldn't tell what the homeless man was saying - it was all expletives and rage. Just then a slightly pimped Cadillac pulled up. Its back door opened, and Dominic Roberto Machelli stepped out.
"Is there a problem here?" Machelli asked threateningly. Jefferson stood up to his full height; he was slightly taller than Machelli. "This man stole that boy's money."
"You seem familiar. I don't suppose you do this vigilante stuff regularly?" said Machelli, eyeing Jefferson's bandaged arm.
"No, I'm just an honest citizen doing his duty." said Jefferson, sternly. The homeless man had slowly snuck away as the young paperboy ran up.
"Here you go, son," said Jefferson, handing the boy his bag of change. "Hold on to that now."
"Good," said Machelli. "We don't need any more vigilantes in this city. Quite frankly, I think one is too many. It's dangerous work. someone could get hurt." Machelli had emphasized that last bit. He turned and climbed back into his car. Jefferson could feel his hand slowly reaching for the sword he didn't have. He stayed his hand, and just stood there, glaring as Machelli's car drove off. "Uh, thanks mister," the boy said, and he hurried away. Jefferson watched as the boy ran back to his street corner. He thought about the boy and the homeless man. Both were products of their environment, an environment created by the rich and greedy - rich and greedy people like Machelli. Something would have to be done. Machelli couldn't rule this city forever. Maybe it was time George Jefferson became less like Batman and more like Robin Hood.
IV
Naublus felt empowered. His grey sun shone once again. His psyche was illuminated. His tread was sure and strong, and he stepped up into the United States of America.
"Oh, America the Beautiful!" Naublus exclaimed in a whisper. Ming Ming's: the immigrant builds a better life for himself. Washington Heights Apartments: Industry heralds an era of enlightened understanding. Oh, and the cars, the cars! America, speeding on its racetrack of glory.
"I love America," Naublus said, frowning. A gust carried the smell of fermented ginger mixed with gas. Naublus tipped over on his side, giving him a chigger's view of Washington Heights -- it looked majestic, grand, and surreal. Or was this all in Naublus' head. He scratched it find out, eventually ripping his scalp off.
"Naublus, Naublus, Naublus!" Lady Liberty, Naublus' precious ho. "What have you done to yourself? She sucked each jut of her crown like a popsicle, at which 55 crimson demon-fairies fluttered in. Each carried a hair, which they planted in Naublus boily, pimply scalp. As if baptized by Miracle-Gro, Naublus' crown of cell phone-black hair grew.
"There, there, Naublus my dear." Out of the grey, a huge, tornado-looking shape dropped from the sky, covering Lady Liberty. Up into the heavens she was sucked. Naublus breathed easier. Lady Liberty confirmed his love for America. Suddenly a flabbergasted tourist, he went sightseeing.
A grizzly bear of a man sold newspapers on the curb. Entrepreneurship, gotta love it. All-American.
Ahead of him, on the sidewalk, a Red Mustang jammed in a light post. The aftermath of a car crash. The diamonds on the driver especially caught Naublus attention. The high life, Mustangs and diamonds. God bless America.
Naublus could breathe again, the smog scrubbing his lungs of SMARTA air, which is really dust mixed with air.
Futures
Fil had been lucky, and rather scared. He had gotten 20 bucks, and some food, and for the most part, he didn't have to 'borrow' any of it. However, he also got a lot of attention. Too much. He didn't like what happened to people who got too much attention. like the wacko who gave him the 20. Fil had spotted at once that he was the self-proclaimed vigilante. His arm was injured. most likely by him breaking into Oscar's. Crazy sonofa bitch. Nice though. He didn't want to trade in his 20 for the man's sanity. Though he almost had anyway. The local vagrant had tried to steal his money from him. Fil wondered if that man was his future. Would Fil turn into a man who stole everything, sometimes for sport? Would the town despise him as much as the vagrant? Would he live to see that day anyway? How was Fil any better really? He was rather homeless, excluding his tree. He stole everything. Fil pondered long and hard about this, for he had no other distraction from the chill wind that had begun in the pitch-black darkness of last night. For there was no moon.
Finally, Fil decided that, if only a little, he was different from the vagrant. He did not throw rocks at cars. He did not pee on trees without regard for passersby. If only a slight step up, he decided that though the two homeless people were in the same situation, Fil had a conscience. And he was 10.
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