I am looking for a topic….searching, searching. Anxiety levels are high. Stomach is churning, mind is flashing — hands on the keyboard barely resisting the urge to close this window and open pinterest instead….
I began writing a blog to try to keep myself writing – I figured if I were writing something that someone may actually read, it would keep me motivated. Not necessarily true, though at times it is a good motivator. Just not today.
Here is a bit of flash fiction – just for fun.
I have had enough. This is the 5th day of trying to find a place to live. My uncle, Charlie, was kind enough but he told me I couldn’t just sleep in his barn without permission. And then, he wouldn’t even give me his permission! It’s a BARN! There are barn cats and lots of mice, a little bit of hay — but that’s it. What would I be disturbing if I stayed? Besides, he has a huge house, with several empty rooms! He told me he loved me but he just couldn’t have me staying there. Liar. You don’t love someone but turn them away in their hour of need. Bastard. I tried to steal his truck again, (that would sure show him), but he was one step ahead of me. Locked up tight. Not like the last time.
It was a few months ago and I don’t really consider it stealing – I borrowed it to get into town. As all farmers do, he left the keys in it and doors unlocked. House was unlocked too – but he’s a pretty light sleeper so I didn’t go in this time. His dog, Rascal, never barks – he loves me. Truly loves me. (Shouldn’t that tell him something about my character?). I considered selling the truck, but it would have taken too long so I just sold the tools in the back. I left the truck by the river – not far from downtown. Not by choice, I ran out of gas. I should have used the money to leave town, but I couldn’t have gone very far. Spent the money “recreationally” instead.
I suppose he thinks he’s kind by not pressing charges. What about a place to live, Uncle Charlie? What about that?
I’ve walked these tracks more times than I care to remember. Some of those times, I DON’T remember. I used to walk the highway and hitch a ride but haven’t since that last bad excursion. I woke up in the hospital with a concussion and road rash after being thrown out of the car. Of course, I don’t remember that part. The cops told me — asked me for a description of the car or the guys, as if I would rat them out! As if I could remember.
I’ve been walking these tracks ever since. But I’m tired. Tired of these tracks and tired of walking. I have thought about this day for a long time. I knew it would come eventually. People will talk about it later. They will wonder if I was hard of hearing. They will wonder if I was drunk or high. Didn’t I hear the train whistle – the very LOUD train whistle. If you’ve never walked on the tracks you may not know, you can FEEL the rumble when a train is coming. You can feel the air being pushed ahead by the train.
I can hear just fine and I can feel it coming. I can hear that distress signal. I can almost feel the panic of the engineer. But I’m tired and I’ve had enough.