The Average Story This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

March 22, 2011
I must warn you, dear reader, that this story is nothing special. This story would not be made into the next Hollywood chart topper, no publisher would give this story a second look, and even the Beatles wouldn’t sing about it, and yet that is what makes it so amazing. It is amazing because it’s plain, boring, simple, without deeper meaning or plot, and just that.

This story began on a day like any other day; it began with a regular sunrise, a slightly clouded high noon, and came to a close with a simple, unspectacular sunset. After the average sunset, I left my friend’s house whom I had been “hanging out” with (surprised I have friends? So am I!) and began the long five mile journey towards home. As I turned my wheel slightly to switch from the main road to the Glenwood road, my ever-plain but spectacular story began. It was well after ten o’clock mountain standard time, and my red little Ford Taurus puttered on through the eerie night. In the backseat sat my best friend, Kesler, and in the shotgun seat sat another friend, Bailee. The radio was silent, the broken clock flashing every once in a while, and the power steering buzzed like a dentist’s drill.

“Wow! Look at that,” Kesler’s loud voice penetrated the sacred silence that had blessed the car moments before, as he pointed out the window of the car.

I saw it now, I did not know how I had missed it earlier, a solid wall of mist barred our way, blanketing the road in a thick vapor, and yet I pressed on, slowing a bit, but trekking on. As the car sped along the painfully straight stretch of road, my mind wandered, my subconscious driving the car keeping a vigilant eye on the sight restricting mist. I began reflecting on the things normal males ponder about: school, money, and girls. I thought about how I had to finish my poetry for Mr. Benjamin’s class, the money in my bank, my checkbook and the stress it relieves as I balance it, and the ever puzzling labyrinth teenage boys face: girls. As the car sped along, my mind began to analyze every part of my day, the certain look so and so gave the other so and so, about one of my friends being depressed by her boyfriend and them breaking up, and also about which eye you look in first when you talk to people. My thoughts then slowly spiraled deeper into my mess of a brain, yet the car never slowed.

The car neared the slight curve in the road that marked the half waypoint of our drive home and also the crossing of the Sevier River, and with a chuckle I thought about how I was now safe from Richfield vampires because vampires couldn’t cross running water. I turned my attention back to my car and away from the scary maze known as my mind. I began noticing the odd things in life, the way Kesler’s breathing was ragged as if he was in deep sleep or a stupor, how Bailee’s left hand tapped in time to an unheard beat, how the headlights of the car cast shadows on that mist that looked like pagan demons. I heard the crackle of paper in the glove box as the car bounced, the click of shoelace tips on shoes, and the distinct heartbeat of the passengers in my car.

We neared the end of our journey, and before me I vaguely noticed the curve in the road and prepared the car to turn into Glenwood, home, and safety. This is when one of my brilliant ideas, one that was a good idea at the moment hit.

“So Kesler, Bailee…. You guys wanna stand in this mist?” I blurted out, my voice carrying the excitement of a kid on Christmas Eve.

Kesler nodded, still deep in his own world, as usual, and Bailee casually agreed. The car fell silent, as I slowed the Taurus to a halt, right off the side of the Glenwood turn-off, and cranked it into park.

I leapt from the car, turning the lights off as I did, and took my first step into the twilight world. It was dark, yet it wasn’t; the moonlight illuminated the mist enough that a soft light lit the scene. In all directions you could see for about fifteen feet before the mist halted your sight. Fences were eaten, houses gone, and even the road before and behind me, a memory. Then it struck me.

Life was like the world covered by the mist, a big mystery, and yet the past and future were simply gone, blocked from view so only the present remained visible. The past is still remembered but unseen and the future lies ahead, brave and new, but none of them mattered, for like with the mist, only the present mattered. Only the moment that was visible had any hold or influence upon my life at that moment, and that is when things started clicking into place. Life made sense, happiness and joy were easily obtained, and problems became a waste of energy.

“Alright, I better get you home before your parents kill me!” I called out, and we all shuffled back into my car, where I flicked the lights back on and continued on down the road, no more menial thoughts plaguing my mind, only the lesson taught to me by the simple, boring, plain mist.

This story wasn’t meant to excite you and if it did, you need to go to a psychiatrist or something, but my story is what it is, no hidden meanings, or deep philosophies, simply a boring a-ha moment in life, for that is what makes life worth living, not the big moments like birth, graduation, marriage and such, but the small moments that don’t matter, the small moments of pure life, un-tampered by excitement or action, where it is all plain, nothing hidden, and yet so profound. Life is all those little things.

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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

IRUEHL said...
Apr. 12, 2011 at 7:37 pm
This is great!!! i really suggest you take out the first paragraph even though its part of the basis for your title and take out the Part where youre suprised you have friends other that that though, its one of the best ive read today and the word picktures are amazing!! :)
SecondhandHuman replied...
Apr. 28, 2011 at 3:26 pm
Thanks! Your comments help and mean so much!
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