A light to nowhere

March 19, 2010
By fyoon0 BRONZE, Buffalo Grove, Illinois
fyoon0 BRONZE, Buffalo Grove, Illinois
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

A gleaming light outlines the long rectangular shaped box. Light footsteps thump towards the dim light, as the moon looks down upon a poor fellow. A young man, strong yet a little slim, blends in with his black leathery jacket. Sparks spontaneously light the darkness for a second, and he watches the little pests curl their legs inward.
As he slowly opens the creaking door, his shoulders shiver at the sound. The intense smell of beer and smoke rushes into his head, but, with no sense of hesitation, he simply walks in. Flies buzz around the dimming light, and beer cans, not completely empty, lie on the floor. Surprisingly, the sink is left empty and spotless. Loud noises of cheering echo out from the living room.
“ Touch Down!” bellows the announcer. The hypnotizing light flashes back and forth, and a grunt escapes the mouth of a bald middle-aged man. His big beer-bellied body slumped into the chair. His grizzly like arms rests on the chair’s side, and four of his fingers hold tightly on an aluminum can. Little droplets of water trickles down the side. The young man speaks in a low voice, breaking the silence between the two, “Dad what’s for dinner?” the crowd’s cheers echoe throughout the room, and another touchdown is scored. “ DAD WHAT’S FOR DINNER?” No response came from the chair. The young man, with his fist clenched, march towards the plain boring chair. Cans shuffle side to side as he makes his way. “ DAD”, his eyes met with the old man. The grizzly old man stared into the glowing screen, and the young man could only see emptiness within his eyes. Piles and piles of aluminum cans were stacked against the wooden legs of the chair. It made it hard for the young man to move.
There were still crumbs from a morning sandwich hiding in the wrinkles of the old man’s white-T. Cigarette buds piled up high on the ashtray. The young man’s face cringes at the sight of his old man. His grimacing look takes pity for the old man’s sloth like movements. “I’ll just make my own dinner then.” Escaped the mouth of the young man. He walks back through the pigsty, and above him fluttered a large moth. Its giant sized wings flap clumsily out through a crack from his window. The young man opens his fridge. He could still hear the crackles coming from the illuminating light outside.

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