May 13 2008
Apr 19 2008
I’m Sorry Samuel. (response to “samuel”)
I’m Sorry
Getting on the train, I know something is wrong; something just isn’t right. I swift pass the other ladies with their nice purses and exotic hats. One woman is wearing all purple with a feathered purple hat; I giggle at the sight thinking she looks like a giant grape. As I laugh at her, I realize that all of the other women are probably laughing at me. I am plain, it isn’t that I can’t afford anything, it’s just… well that is a different story. However, as I sit down on the trashed, cold, narrow seat with gum clinging on to every square inch of it like a daughter’s grip on a mother, the hairs stand up on my back. As I glance up to the platform, there are four young boys bouncing around as if what they were doing wasn’t dangerous at all. I open my mouth to shout and tell them to get down, but then I realize I don’t want them to make fun of me for thinking they are being irresponsible, or even worse, draw more attention to myself. I just sink into my seat, retreating, knowing I should do something. The other women are screaming at them, but the boys probably can’t see beyond their feathered, exotic hats, because all the boys seem to do is laugh at them. I know in this point in time someone is going to get hurt, and I can be the person to stop them, they would listen to me. In fear of drawing attention to myself once again, I retreat once more. Finally, I tell myself which is more important: being embarrassed or potentially saving someone’s life? I stand up and take a deep breath, and open my mouth to speak. EEEK! I jerk forward and jerk back again. Then, right before my two hazel eyes, I see one of the young boys fall to his death, the train, running over his helpless, boney, body with ease. He was crushed, and I can never bring him back. Three years have gone by, and there hasn’t been a second where I think of how selfish I was. I could have saved a precious life, but I retreated out of fear of drawing more attention to myself and possibly having another bad experience. All I can say is: I’m sorry.
Apr 17 2008
3 SHORT short stories
Unable to make a sound; can’t move.
The blood rushes to the surface.
Piercing through my skin, acquiring the virus.
