Saturday.
The three bright red numbers switched soundly, in unison. 5:00. The alarm-clock radio jumped to life; a deep, male voice flowed through the speakers, with small blips of static imperfecting the DJ's practiced line, "Welcome to Tacoma Today, this is Steve Briggs, with five hours of good music, news, and eve-."
Eddie sat up in a wrinkled mess of warm sheets. In his groggy state, he was mad at Mr. Briggs for awakening him from his peaceful slumber, for getting his head off of its indented groove on his pillow. He groaned. The mindless drudgery of another day of schooling awaited him. But then realization struck him, the light bulb of his idea lit up his weary face.
Saturday.
He placed the piece of flowery stationary on the table; shabby writing in ballpoint pen told his mom that he'd be gone for a while, to his usual spot. As to not wake his slumbering parents, Eddie slowly grasped the crackly brown paper bag that held his lunch, and then slowly placed it in his tattered backpack. He put two crinkled one-dollar bills into his jean pocket, treaded softly on the bland tile, slowly turned the rusty doorknob, and opened it to reveal the world it front of him. Eddie slipped his hands into the sleeves of his warm, expensive jacket as he dutifully unlatched the freezing, creaky gate.
He was free.
The mountainous Washington landscape lay before him. On his small street, frost lay on the roofs and dew on the doors of rickety Victorian style houses. Dying greenery and the soon vaporized water had an audience of Eddie, and Eddie alone. A massive chessboard of crops lay in the great valley. The various plants were the spaces; the giant squares varying in shade just as the white and black on a chessboard. The rickety homes of hard-working farmers were the various pieces. With his eyes, Eddie followed his street, which turned onto the simple two-lane highway, which cut straight down the oversized game, leading up to the enormous player, pondering his next move.
Gnarled fingers of steep ravines sprouted from the summit, like roots from a tree, ready to move one of his pieces. The tip of the mountain stood proud, looking over several small, cozy towns, most like Eddies. And right now, its all mine.
Eddie walked off his porch with a smile.
Eddie walked down the highway at a slow but steady pace. He counted 11 cars in his first hour. Now the pace was starting to pick up. Every two minutes, one of the rusty machines whizzed by Eddie. In a flash of chipping paint and rusting wheels, the cars flew by, each of them garnering Eddies' undivided attention for but a few seconds. Then it starting getting smaller, soon disappearing over Mother Earth's round curvature. By then, another prized product of one of the big factories in one of those big cities had sputtered by, tussling Eddies' hair. The cars and the people in them were all shapes and sizes. Some were in a hurry. Some were going away to try to "unwind." Some were dutifully of to some obligation, either employment or relatives. But unlike Eddie, none of them were enjoying this day. None of them were regarding it as anything special, or extraordinary. After all, was today really unlike any other day? Was this Saturday like any other Saturday? Was it just another square on a calendar?
And then Eddie reached his first destination.
In the landscape chess game, the convenience store was a pawn. A grumpy employee was awaiting the end of his late night/early morning shift and the meager money that he got. Why couldn't he have a TV or something? The kid was the first customer in hours; the black charcoal of night had been incredibly lonely and mind-numbingly boring.
Eddie walked past small aisles filled with bright packaging and the sugary products within. Just beyond the whirring soda machine lay the wall-to-wall refrigerator. Just like donuts and cheap coffee, this display of chilled beverages also had bright letters calling for the customers' eye. Eddie wasn't going to browse. Wasn't going to try a new beverage because of a colorful label. Way in the corner, on the bottom rack, lay a lonely row of refreshments, neglected by passerby for the few weeks they lay in the store. Eddie hastily slid the door out, not particularly wanting to feel the arctic blast from the oversized home appliance on this already brisk day. Eddie quickly grabbed a drink, a red one, quickly slid the door shut, & walked to the counter. The bored employee mechanically rattled through the, "Did you find everything okay?" jargon, a bogus and pointless attempt to get a customer to come back. If the guy were truly trying to be friendly, he probably wouldn't scowl. Eddie brainlessly gave his answer -he obviously wouldn't say no-, and would eventually come back, no matter what the employee said or did. Maybe next Saturday.
Eddie was coming to the end of the straight of the road, the end of the gigantic array of crops. Eddie saw the strenuous work of the farmers, their crops coming within inches of the mini-van-size rocks, trying to squeeze out as much profit as they could from their prized crops. Eddie stopped and sipped at the drink, its cherry flavor was a pleasing taste. Eddie tightly turned the black lid shut on the bottle and placed it in his near-empty backpack, which lay open at his heels.
Eddie sized up the first rock, and found a small crevice for his backpack. Its zipper closed in a hum, and he stretched to place it in the desired spot. Now Eddie had to find his way up the rock. In a matter of a minute, he was standing on top of the seven-foot hunk of stone, backpack in hand, looking for a good spot on the next giant rock.
Trails are for wimps.
Eddie climbed up rock after rock, looking back towards civilization below to mark his progress. After a half-hour of climbing, he got to the forest, its trees stood stationary on the mountainside, stretching to the eternal heavens, all the way up to the snowcapped summit.
The smell of the pine trees. The soft crunch of his boots on untouched land. The soft rustle of animals scurrying out of the foreign monster's path. Eddie took in and loved it all. Even the soft background hum of tired cars' tires on the worn pavement. Then Eddie started going in and up, closer to the summit, closer to his third destination. After trekking through one of the mountains' fingers of steep rocky ravines, Eddie reached a flat surface. It was a small clearing only three feet wide, it traveled the whole way around the mountain's trunk, now somewhat thin from this high up. It was impossible to get to from any path. Eddie smiled.
I'm here.
Eddie called it Halo Point, its oxymoron title his own personal inside joke. As he rested his back against the cold, sturdy rock face, he pulled out a bag of chips from his backpack. As he opened the colorful bag to release a salty aroma, he gazed at the view in front of him.
Eddie could see the giant chessboard, and even beyond the hill on which his house rested. As he munched on another greasy snack, he spied tired cars still roving up and down the highway, even one pulling into the convenience store. It was a fairly clear day, and Eddie could see all the way to Tacoma. Eddie imagined the busy people trying to spend their precious time away from the office having a good time. He imagined Steve Briggs, pulling away from the studio, after another easy day of "work." He sat there and enjoyed the wonderful view until all the chips were gone.
Eddie stayed, staring at the postcard picture for a while after he had finished, peacefully enjoying his Saturday. Then he zipped his tattered backpack up in a rhythmic hum and walked around to the other side of the mountain on the Halo. Eddie noticed and knew that the horizon now held two shades of blue, the bottom one significantly darker.
And then he started down.
When Eddie got to the bottom, he still had to walk a ways through the soft sand, as the minute rocks slipped through the likewise minute cavities in his shoes and socks. Finally he got to the rocks. Eddie had picked out one for himself. All of them stood fifteen feet above the wet ground below, with various levels and cracks, a climbers' dream. Eddies' rock was the biggest of them all. Eddie stared numbly at the smoothed survivors of time, waiting, waiting.....Boom!
A cascade of white foam droplets sprinkled everything, streams of the salty water lapped over the surface of Eddies' gigantic rock, finding rest in its little crevices. The water in the valleys between the rocks flooded over the small stumps of rocks not broken down yet, travelling until they crashed into the invincible wall of rock, still determined to destroy it as they had so many others.
And then the tide came out.
The natural confetti had fallen into the small portion of sand below, where the patient wave awaited to take them back out to sea. Water streamed out from the overflowing stone pores, escaping back to their home. Eddie waited for a minute, and then the aquatic explosion thundered the coast again.
Eddie unzipped his backpack, opening a Ziploc bag and taking out a few pieces of bread. Eddie left his backpack on the sand -he had never seen any other shoe treads other than his- and climbed on the rock. He laughed as the mist and wind softly blew on his face.
Eddie had reached the small summit of the rock by now. He peered down into the ocean, laying so far below. Then the seagulls came. Eddie offered torn-off chunks of the bread to them, teasing them as they shied away from yet another thundering crash. Soon, the pesky birds discovered that if they timed it right, they could get a delicious treat of the grainy morsel, even going as far as to perch on the rock next to him. Soon, all of Eddies' mangled slices were gone. As Eddie sat down on the rock, with the last of the persistent pests gone, the waves came smaller, mere droplets reaching to Eddies' perched spot. Soon, they did not touch him at all, but Eddie still sat, watching the waves dutifully slide in and out of the sand valley between his rock and another. In and out. It did now. It did yesterday. It would forever.
Finally, Eddie decided it was time to leave his silent sanctuary, rousing from his seat to retrieve his backpack. But Eddie wasn't sad. Why would he be? He still had the way back......
~
Any and all opinions would be great!
The three bright red numbers switched soundly, in unison. 5:00. The alarm-clock radio jumped to life; a deep, male voice flowed through the speakers, with small blips of static imperfecting the DJ's practiced line, "Welcome to Tacoma Today, this is Steve Briggs, with five hours of good music, news, and eve-."
Eddie sat up in a wrinkled mess of warm sheets. In his groggy state, he was mad at Mr. Briggs for awakening him from his peaceful slumber, for getting his head off of its indented groove on his pillow. He groaned. The mindless drudgery of another day of schooling awaited him. But then realization struck him, the light bulb of his idea lit up his weary face.
Saturday.
He placed the piece of flowery stationary on the table; shabby writing in ballpoint pen told his mom that he'd be gone for a while, to his usual spot. As to not wake his slumbering parents, Eddie slowly grasped the crackly brown paper bag that held his lunch, and then slowly placed it in his tattered backpack. He put two crinkled one-dollar bills into his jean pocket, treaded softly on the bland tile, slowly turned the rusty doorknob, and opened it to reveal the world it front of him. Eddie slipped his hands into the sleeves of his warm, expensive jacket as he dutifully unlatched the freezing, creaky gate.
He was free.
The mountainous Washington landscape lay before him. On his small street, frost lay on the roofs and dew on the doors of rickety Victorian style houses. Dying greenery and the soon vaporized water had an audience of Eddie, and Eddie alone. A massive chessboard of crops lay in the great valley. The various plants were the spaces; the giant squares varying in shade just as the white and black on a chessboard. The rickety homes of hard-working farmers were the various pieces. With his eyes, Eddie followed his street, which turned onto the simple two-lane highway, which cut straight down the oversized game, leading up to the enormous player, pondering his next move.
Gnarled fingers of steep ravines sprouted from the summit, like roots from a tree, ready to move one of his pieces. The tip of the mountain stood proud, looking over several small, cozy towns, most like Eddies. And right now, its all mine.
Eddie walked off his porch with a smile.
Eddie walked down the highway at a slow but steady pace. He counted 11 cars in his first hour. Now the pace was starting to pick up. Every two minutes, one of the rusty machines whizzed by Eddie. In a flash of chipping paint and rusting wheels, the cars flew by, each of them garnering Eddies' undivided attention for but a few seconds. Then it starting getting smaller, soon disappearing over Mother Earth's round curvature. By then, another prized product of one of the big factories in one of those big cities had sputtered by, tussling Eddies' hair. The cars and the people in them were all shapes and sizes. Some were in a hurry. Some were going away to try to "unwind." Some were dutifully of to some obligation, either employment or relatives. But unlike Eddie, none of them were enjoying this day. None of them were regarding it as anything special, or extraordinary. After all, was today really unlike any other day? Was this Saturday like any other Saturday? Was it just another square on a calendar?
And then Eddie reached his first destination.
In the landscape chess game, the convenience store was a pawn. A grumpy employee was awaiting the end of his late night/early morning shift and the meager money that he got. Why couldn't he have a TV or something? The kid was the first customer in hours; the black charcoal of night had been incredibly lonely and mind-numbingly boring.
Eddie walked past small aisles filled with bright packaging and the sugary products within. Just beyond the whirring soda machine lay the wall-to-wall refrigerator. Just like donuts and cheap coffee, this display of chilled beverages also had bright letters calling for the customers' eye. Eddie wasn't going to browse. Wasn't going to try a new beverage because of a colorful label. Way in the corner, on the bottom rack, lay a lonely row of refreshments, neglected by passerby for the few weeks they lay in the store. Eddie hastily slid the door out, not particularly wanting to feel the arctic blast from the oversized home appliance on this already brisk day. Eddie quickly grabbed a drink, a red one, quickly slid the door shut, & walked to the counter. The bored employee mechanically rattled through the, "Did you find everything okay?" jargon, a bogus and pointless attempt to get a customer to come back. If the guy were truly trying to be friendly, he probably wouldn't scowl. Eddie brainlessly gave his answer -he obviously wouldn't say no-, and would eventually come back, no matter what the employee said or did. Maybe next Saturday.
Eddie was coming to the end of the straight of the road, the end of the gigantic array of crops. Eddie saw the strenuous work of the farmers, their crops coming within inches of the mini-van-size rocks, trying to squeeze out as much profit as they could from their prized crops. Eddie stopped and sipped at the drink, its cherry flavor was a pleasing taste. Eddie tightly turned the black lid shut on the bottle and placed it in his near-empty backpack, which lay open at his heels.
Eddie sized up the first rock, and found a small crevice for his backpack. Its zipper closed in a hum, and he stretched to place it in the desired spot. Now Eddie had to find his way up the rock. In a matter of a minute, he was standing on top of the seven-foot hunk of stone, backpack in hand, looking for a good spot on the next giant rock.
Trails are for wimps.
Eddie climbed up rock after rock, looking back towards civilization below to mark his progress. After a half-hour of climbing, he got to the forest, its trees stood stationary on the mountainside, stretching to the eternal heavens, all the way up to the snowcapped summit.
The smell of the pine trees. The soft crunch of his boots on untouched land. The soft rustle of animals scurrying out of the foreign monster's path. Eddie took in and loved it all. Even the soft background hum of tired cars' tires on the worn pavement. Then Eddie started going in and up, closer to the summit, closer to his third destination. After trekking through one of the mountains' fingers of steep rocky ravines, Eddie reached a flat surface. It was a small clearing only three feet wide, it traveled the whole way around the mountain's trunk, now somewhat thin from this high up. It was impossible to get to from any path. Eddie smiled.
I'm here.
Eddie called it Halo Point, its oxymoron title his own personal inside joke. As he rested his back against the cold, sturdy rock face, he pulled out a bag of chips from his backpack. As he opened the colorful bag to release a salty aroma, he gazed at the view in front of him.
Eddie could see the giant chessboard, and even beyond the hill on which his house rested. As he munched on another greasy snack, he spied tired cars still roving up and down the highway, even one pulling into the convenience store. It was a fairly clear day, and Eddie could see all the way to Tacoma. Eddie imagined the busy people trying to spend their precious time away from the office having a good time. He imagined Steve Briggs, pulling away from the studio, after another easy day of "work." He sat there and enjoyed the wonderful view until all the chips were gone.
Eddie stayed, staring at the postcard picture for a while after he had finished, peacefully enjoying his Saturday. Then he zipped his tattered backpack up in a rhythmic hum and walked around to the other side of the mountain on the Halo. Eddie noticed and knew that the horizon now held two shades of blue, the bottom one significantly darker.
And then he started down.
When Eddie got to the bottom, he still had to walk a ways through the soft sand, as the minute rocks slipped through the likewise minute cavities in his shoes and socks. Finally he got to the rocks. Eddie had picked out one for himself. All of them stood fifteen feet above the wet ground below, with various levels and cracks, a climbers' dream. Eddies' rock was the biggest of them all. Eddie stared numbly at the smoothed survivors of time, waiting, waiting.....Boom!
A cascade of white foam droplets sprinkled everything, streams of the salty water lapped over the surface of Eddies' gigantic rock, finding rest in its little crevices. The water in the valleys between the rocks flooded over the small stumps of rocks not broken down yet, travelling until they crashed into the invincible wall of rock, still determined to destroy it as they had so many others.
And then the tide came out.
The natural confetti had fallen into the small portion of sand below, where the patient wave awaited to take them back out to sea. Water streamed out from the overflowing stone pores, escaping back to their home. Eddie waited for a minute, and then the aquatic explosion thundered the coast again.
Eddie unzipped his backpack, opening a Ziploc bag and taking out a few pieces of bread. Eddie left his backpack on the sand -he had never seen any other shoe treads other than his- and climbed on the rock. He laughed as the mist and wind softly blew on his face.
Eddie had reached the small summit of the rock by now. He peered down into the ocean, laying so far below. Then the seagulls came. Eddie offered torn-off chunks of the bread to them, teasing them as they shied away from yet another thundering crash. Soon, the pesky birds discovered that if they timed it right, they could get a delicious treat of the grainy morsel, even going as far as to perch on the rock next to him. Soon, all of Eddies' mangled slices were gone. As Eddie sat down on the rock, with the last of the persistent pests gone, the waves came smaller, mere droplets reaching to Eddies' perched spot. Soon, they did not touch him at all, but Eddie still sat, watching the waves dutifully slide in and out of the sand valley between his rock and another. In and out. It did now. It did yesterday. It would forever.
Finally, Eddie decided it was time to leave his silent sanctuary, rousing from his seat to retrieve his backpack. But Eddie wasn't sad. Why would he be? He still had the way back......
~
Any and all opinions would be great!
