What matters most

October 9, 2012
By St.Pyre BRONZE, Chunchula, Alabama
St.Pyre BRONZE, Chunchula, Alabama
1 article 1 photo 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
life will thow everythign at you. a man takes it. a dragon rises above it.

The boy sat quietly on the beach. The moon rested on the waves, bright and alluring. From his belt, the boy slipped a small knife. It wasn’t long or fancy, but it was perfect for what he planned on using it for. He closed his eyes and brought the blade to his throat. Through his mind ran his parent’s divorce, his latest report card, his cheating ex-girlfriend. A single tear escaped and fell to the sand.
Without warning, something hit his hand and sent the knife spinning into the dirt. He opened his eyes to see who had stopped him. In front of him was another boy, dressed in a faded school uniform with messy blonde hair. When you looked into his eyes you could see a wisdom that exceeded his teenage years. Deep in his eyes was an ever-lasting smile.
“You have a lot more to do with your life than this. You have opportunities to make a better life for yourself, but that doesn’t do you any good like this.” Then, with the moon framing him, he walked off without another word.
The first boy watched him go. Without really thinking, he followed him across the sand and into the city. He followed him out of the upper class district and into the slums. They kept walking till they reached what could barely be called a house. Most of the windows had long since been shattered, and there was a huge hole in the roof. There were hinges, but no door.
The new boy walked in, his old shoes crunching on dirt and broken glass. The old boy stayed outside. The new boy reached into his pocket and took out an old bread roll. He ate it slowly, as if to savor the flavor. Then he pulled an old blanket out of a corner and curled up on an empty bed frame and slept.
The first boy watched all of this, and then looked down at himself. His expensive new school uniform, his somewhat rounded belly, his brand new shoes. He looked at the sleeping boy one last time and turned around.
On the beach, he reached down and picked up the knife that lay in the sand, and then walked to the edge of the water in deep thought. The water curled around his feet. He sighed and brought the knife up over his head. He yelled, and with every bit f his strength he threw the knife. It spun through the air for a little bit, then landed with an almost silent splash in the ocean. He smiled. He headed back into the city and walked into a store. With a box of doughnuts under his arm, he stared walking towards the slums with a soft smile in his eyes.

The author's comments:
This is a story i wrote after someone very dear to me commited suicide. i always thought that i might be the one to save him, but i was to late. i really hope that the reader can put himself in the eyes of both boys when they're feeling down and realise, their life isnt so bad after all.

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