I Have Written Something
So, yes, I have written something. W00t.
It's called 'You Found Me' and it's a short drabble based primarily on that song, by the Fray. It is in no way religious, so don't take it that way. Anyway, here it is.
It was an ashy autumn day. I walked down First Street with my hands in my pockets, head bowed. My eyes were focused on my shoes, grey, and made sure to avoid any cracks in the sidewalk. It was more habit then anything else, but as long as didn’t step on a crack in the pavement, I would be safe. From what, I don’t know, and probably never will.
I reached the intersection and stopped. The bus wasn’t going to come for another few minutes. I didn’t want to sit down, so I stood, bracing myself from the wind. There was another man at the corner. He wasn’t sitting either.
I watched him for a few moments. He was older, his hair was cropped short, and he had a wise look about him. He interested me for some strange reason. He noticed my staring and grinned. Reaching into his back pocket he pulled out a small package. Flipping open the lid he took out his last cigarette and placed the now empty container back into his pocket. He then lit his cigarette with a green lighter. I watched this whole process in fascination.
After he had taken a long drag, he eyed me curiously. “I would have offered you one, but you don’t smoke.”
“How do you know that?” I said, although I didn’t really care. I watched him as he smoked. He didn’t look like he particularly enjoyed it. It was as if he just wanted something to do.
“I know many things.” Then he laughed. I didn’t know what he found so funny. I thought the whole situation was rather ridiculous, but nothing to laugh about. It was one thing to smile at a stranger, but quite another to have such a strange conversation with one.
“Why are you alone?” I asked. It suddenly seemed strange that he would be unaccompanied. He looked around him, taking in the scene almost possessively.
“I’m not.” I didn’t understand, and chose not to ask about his strange answers. He didn’t seem at all bothered by the fact that I was asking him so many questions without my offering up anything about myself.
“Why are you here?” I continued, deciding that this was something that I should take advantage of. After all, this man was important, although I wasn’t sure why.
“I came to visit.” He again looked around himself, this time rather sadly. A piece of paper drifted by his feet. Agile as a cat, he bent down and picked it up, placing it in his pocket alongside the empty cigarette pack.
“Do you like it?” By now, even I didn’t know what we were talking about, but I kept asking questions.
“No.” He answered simply. I opened my mouth to ask more questions, but the great lumbering bus had finally come to the stop. “This is my queue to go,” he said. I nodded. As he walked in the opposite direction, I stared after him. He gave me a little wave, and I got onto the bus.
I found God on the corner of First and Amistad.