"Strutting down the road, his coat waving carelessly in the wind. His eyes sullen and blackened, leaving his face gaunt like a skeleton brought to life. His eyes visible only as two large voids in the mans otherwise uninspiring face. The bright sun did nothing to illuminate, forgetting the existence of the man almost absolutely."
Nick had little to do with his time. He rarely went to school and had few other tasks to occupy his days. He survived his days sitting on the path, watching the thoroughfare and creating fantasy worlds where things are more interesting than they seem. His notepad and pen in hand, he had now lost his muse as the man wandered out of sight. Bored by his recent attempt and failure to find a lasting inspiration, he gathered his affects in his bag and made his way home. Surely he would eventually find something that would spark... something, he thought. His mind had unfortunately become lethargic recently. He strained and strained and yet nothing came. He needed a purpose, a vision, an intergalactic spaceship.
Arriving home he dropped his bag and went to shower. He was never astounded by how dirty he became sitting on the sidewalk, however strange it may seem to someone with the slightest inch of pride in personal appearance. He had forgotten his radiant blue eyes; his once charming smile. He stepped out of the shower dripping all over the tiles and stared. Not at anything in particular, just his overal physique and swagger. His shoulders slouched and ashamed, he lost that rope attached to his spine that had held him tall and proud. It was as though he had lost all sense of self in his search for that one, shining beacon where all his questions would be answered. Where he would no longer stare blankly and think only of shades of gray. He existed only as a memory of his former glory, a passing shadow that lacked everything he had once been.
His mother greeted him at the bottom of the stairs with welcoming arms. She too noticed her sons disintegration into a vacuous entity; barely living enough to communicate. You could see her melancholy in her eyes. She had no other child, no one to carry on or live vicariously through. This was her only chance to make something of the life she hadn't ever lived. The life she had hoped for her child to live, but all she saw looking back in those beautiful eyes was indifference. His bright visage had withered and died. She sat down with him a moment and they shared their silence with one another. Her voice cracked as it punctured the air and she spoke softly, "You know, Nick. I know you haven't been going to school. They call almost every day. The days they don't I assume you haven't gone anyway, they just assume I know."
Her revelation left his face very much the same as when she had begun. She looked exhausted, as if this were her chance to inspire some emotion, good or bad. As usual he had given her nothing. She continued, "Tomorrow I'm taking you. I've taken the morning off work and I'll be making sure you're in that class." He looked her dead in the eyes, his face a blank in a loaded gun. She couldn't sit there awkwardly anymore. She left him and Nick returned to his room to look over his writing from today. Re-imagine and then nothing, no expansion or elaboration. Just fading light from a dying flame.
His mother held true to her word. She dropped Nick at the door. She would have driven him into the classroom if it were at all plausible. He wandered into the school and took his seat in class. He paid no attention and none was given to him. In his hands were his pen and paper, where he scrawled his short lines of messy impressions of the teacher, his classmates, the class lizard. He left school that day feeling the same. No revelations or inspirations, just a mundane mediocrity that he had expected all the same anyhow. He sat on his bed, forgetting to read over his notes as he challenged his desk chair to try something. There was a flicker in his eyes, a flash of daring that had long since been absent. But all the same, it was there for an instant, then gone again. As if it had never come. As if it were never to culminate to activity again.
Days at school became blurs. His mother dropped him off, he walked the same path to his class, sat in the same seat, felt the same feeling of hunger in his stomach every lunch, walked the same way home. His education had become a disco ball with nothing to reflect. He didn't even write impressions of his class anymore. He sat on the starboard side in the middle of the class and had now seen the back of all their heads. He did not turn around to study his class mates behind him. He merely ignored that any of them were even there. A breeze in the storm that had settled years before.
It was after three weeks of repetitious boredom that someone actually spoke to Nick. He was in class, staring at the back of the girls head he had gotten to know so well when someone behind him started talking. At first he wasn't sure whether it was he who the boy was talking to so he ignored. After several clear attempts that had been ignored sheerly due to disinterest, Nick turned his head and waited for the boy to talk again. "Hey, I just wanted to know what your name is, I mean, you've been in our class a month or so now and you haven't even said a word. Oh, by the way, my name is Jack. You are?" The boy said in a upbeat tone. Nick pondered for a moment whether or not to just blatantly ignore him or humour him with a response. He waited and unnaturally long time and simply said, "Nick." His voice was cracked and struggling to escape, yet it was still there. Jack looked surprised to have gotten a response and smiled back at him, "It's nice to meet you Nick."
Nick turned back to staring at the girl's head and Jack straightened up, catching a glance of Nick occasionally out of the corner of his eye. Nick noticed however did nothing to bring attention to it. Another stupid juvenile delinquent looking to make a new friend to break shit with. Either that or checking whether or not he should bully him, which Nick hoped, oh how he hoped that were the case.
School resumed its usual pattern and Nick was once again completely alone in his head. It was about a week after Jack had introduced himself that he tried talking to Nick again. He sat in his usual place underneath a tree in the grounds of the school, writing impressions of his colleagues when he noticed a tall figure walking directly towards him. He made no effort to look away or to acknowledge that there was someone coming closer, he simply remained motionless looking at his paper, then the students, back to his paper. The tall figure came closer and focused in his eyes. "Hey Nick," Jack said in the same excitable voice he had used in class. Nick looked up and waited for him to say something else, or to go away.
"What's up man? What are you writing?" Jack sat down next to Nick and he quickly put his notes away from view.
"Words," he replied nonchalantly.
"Yeah, I've heard people usually use them. 'Cept for those damn Egyptians. Cryptic bastards." Jack couldn't be sure, but he could have sworn he saw the corner of Nick mouth curl up into what could be mistaken as a snarl or a smile. "So what do you do man? I mean, you're a real quiet motherfucker. I'm sorry, I don't mean that in the way that you fuck your mother, or that that would be why you're really quiet. More in the same sense that I used man before, but instead I said motherfucker because I was emphasizing it a little more, you know?" To be honest, Nick had no idea what he had just said, but for some reason he had the smallest inkling of respect for someone who could come up and call a complete stranger a motherfucker.
"I'll be sure not to take it that way then," Nick quietly droned in reply.
"So, what is it that you do? Like, outside of school? I mean, you weren't here for a while. To be honest I couldn't remember if you were new or if you were here before until someone said that you just don't show up most of the time. I just figured you must be new if I couldn't remember who you were, probably because I'd never met you before and I would never have met a new person before. But turns out your not new, just really bad at turning up to school."
Jack's excited persona was even more prominent when he talked, which is what encouraged Nick to turn his head and actually look at him. He was surprised, he hadn't noticed Jacks radiant skin or beaming eyes when they first talked. He had bright green eyes and jet black hair contrasted to his pale skin. He had a skinny face and broad shoulders. His uniform hung from his chest and torso suggesting he was quiet skinny. Nick thought about it and he wasn't all too different to himself, aside from polar opposite personality.
"Well, it was good talking to you I suppose, though I don't know if it was talking to you or at you. But all the same, see you around dude!" Jack said as he stood up and walked away back through the grounds. Nick was confused, he had no idea about this guy. For the first time in a long time Nick felt something, however menial and benign it was.
Nick had little to do with his time. He rarely went to school and had few other tasks to occupy his days. He survived his days sitting on the path, watching the thoroughfare and creating fantasy worlds where things are more interesting than they seem. His notepad and pen in hand, he had now lost his muse as the man wandered out of sight. Bored by his recent attempt and failure to find a lasting inspiration, he gathered his affects in his bag and made his way home. Surely he would eventually find something that would spark... something, he thought. His mind had unfortunately become lethargic recently. He strained and strained and yet nothing came. He needed a purpose, a vision, an intergalactic spaceship.
Arriving home he dropped his bag and went to shower. He was never astounded by how dirty he became sitting on the sidewalk, however strange it may seem to someone with the slightest inch of pride in personal appearance. He had forgotten his radiant blue eyes; his once charming smile. He stepped out of the shower dripping all over the tiles and stared. Not at anything in particular, just his overal physique and swagger. His shoulders slouched and ashamed, he lost that rope attached to his spine that had held him tall and proud. It was as though he had lost all sense of self in his search for that one, shining beacon where all his questions would be answered. Where he would no longer stare blankly and think only of shades of gray. He existed only as a memory of his former glory, a passing shadow that lacked everything he had once been.
His mother greeted him at the bottom of the stairs with welcoming arms. She too noticed her sons disintegration into a vacuous entity; barely living enough to communicate. You could see her melancholy in her eyes. She had no other child, no one to carry on or live vicariously through. This was her only chance to make something of the life she hadn't ever lived. The life she had hoped for her child to live, but all she saw looking back in those beautiful eyes was indifference. His bright visage had withered and died. She sat down with him a moment and they shared their silence with one another. Her voice cracked as it punctured the air and she spoke softly, "You know, Nick. I know you haven't been going to school. They call almost every day. The days they don't I assume you haven't gone anyway, they just assume I know."
Her revelation left his face very much the same as when she had begun. She looked exhausted, as if this were her chance to inspire some emotion, good or bad. As usual he had given her nothing. She continued, "Tomorrow I'm taking you. I've taken the morning off work and I'll be making sure you're in that class." He looked her dead in the eyes, his face a blank in a loaded gun. She couldn't sit there awkwardly anymore. She left him and Nick returned to his room to look over his writing from today. Re-imagine and then nothing, no expansion or elaboration. Just fading light from a dying flame.
His mother held true to her word. She dropped Nick at the door. She would have driven him into the classroom if it were at all plausible. He wandered into the school and took his seat in class. He paid no attention and none was given to him. In his hands were his pen and paper, where he scrawled his short lines of messy impressions of the teacher, his classmates, the class lizard. He left school that day feeling the same. No revelations or inspirations, just a mundane mediocrity that he had expected all the same anyhow. He sat on his bed, forgetting to read over his notes as he challenged his desk chair to try something. There was a flicker in his eyes, a flash of daring that had long since been absent. But all the same, it was there for an instant, then gone again. As if it had never come. As if it were never to culminate to activity again.
Days at school became blurs. His mother dropped him off, he walked the same path to his class, sat in the same seat, felt the same feeling of hunger in his stomach every lunch, walked the same way home. His education had become a disco ball with nothing to reflect. He didn't even write impressions of his class anymore. He sat on the starboard side in the middle of the class and had now seen the back of all their heads. He did not turn around to study his class mates behind him. He merely ignored that any of them were even there. A breeze in the storm that had settled years before.
It was after three weeks of repetitious boredom that someone actually spoke to Nick. He was in class, staring at the back of the girls head he had gotten to know so well when someone behind him started talking. At first he wasn't sure whether it was he who the boy was talking to so he ignored. After several clear attempts that had been ignored sheerly due to disinterest, Nick turned his head and waited for the boy to talk again. "Hey, I just wanted to know what your name is, I mean, you've been in our class a month or so now and you haven't even said a word. Oh, by the way, my name is Jack. You are?" The boy said in a upbeat tone. Nick pondered for a moment whether or not to just blatantly ignore him or humour him with a response. He waited and unnaturally long time and simply said, "Nick." His voice was cracked and struggling to escape, yet it was still there. Jack looked surprised to have gotten a response and smiled back at him, "It's nice to meet you Nick."
Nick turned back to staring at the girl's head and Jack straightened up, catching a glance of Nick occasionally out of the corner of his eye. Nick noticed however did nothing to bring attention to it. Another stupid juvenile delinquent looking to make a new friend to break shit with. Either that or checking whether or not he should bully him, which Nick hoped, oh how he hoped that were the case.
School resumed its usual pattern and Nick was once again completely alone in his head. It was about a week after Jack had introduced himself that he tried talking to Nick again. He sat in his usual place underneath a tree in the grounds of the school, writing impressions of his colleagues when he noticed a tall figure walking directly towards him. He made no effort to look away or to acknowledge that there was someone coming closer, he simply remained motionless looking at his paper, then the students, back to his paper. The tall figure came closer and focused in his eyes. "Hey Nick," Jack said in the same excitable voice he had used in class. Nick looked up and waited for him to say something else, or to go away.
"What's up man? What are you writing?" Jack sat down next to Nick and he quickly put his notes away from view.
"Words," he replied nonchalantly.
"Yeah, I've heard people usually use them. 'Cept for those damn Egyptians. Cryptic bastards." Jack couldn't be sure, but he could have sworn he saw the corner of Nick mouth curl up into what could be mistaken as a snarl or a smile. "So what do you do man? I mean, you're a real quiet motherfucker. I'm sorry, I don't mean that in the way that you fuck your mother, or that that would be why you're really quiet. More in the same sense that I used man before, but instead I said motherfucker because I was emphasizing it a little more, you know?" To be honest, Nick had no idea what he had just said, but for some reason he had the smallest inkling of respect for someone who could come up and call a complete stranger a motherfucker.
"I'll be sure not to take it that way then," Nick quietly droned in reply.
"So, what is it that you do? Like, outside of school? I mean, you weren't here for a while. To be honest I couldn't remember if you were new or if you were here before until someone said that you just don't show up most of the time. I just figured you must be new if I couldn't remember who you were, probably because I'd never met you before and I would never have met a new person before. But turns out your not new, just really bad at turning up to school."
Jack's excited persona was even more prominent when he talked, which is what encouraged Nick to turn his head and actually look at him. He was surprised, he hadn't noticed Jacks radiant skin or beaming eyes when they first talked. He had bright green eyes and jet black hair contrasted to his pale skin. He had a skinny face and broad shoulders. His uniform hung from his chest and torso suggesting he was quiet skinny. Nick thought about it and he wasn't all too different to himself, aside from polar opposite personality.
"Well, it was good talking to you I suppose, though I don't know if it was talking to you or at you. But all the same, see you around dude!" Jack said as he stood up and walked away back through the grounds. Nick was confused, he had no idea about this guy. For the first time in a long time Nick felt something, however menial and benign it was.
