Thorns of a Bush | Teen Ink

Thorns of a Bush

April 26, 2018
By SlothyMoon BRONZE, Norfolk, Nebraska
SlothyMoon BRONZE, Norfolk, Nebraska
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Soft raindrops, against a dusty window. Soft blue hues of light flooding in, along with the sounds of the gentle droplets. Inside, there was the scent of coffee, accompanied with gentle music. Subtle blue light, emanating from a screen that seems to almost be breathing, with its pulsating lights. At this desk sits a man, tall, dark, and depressed. Stuck at this desk, the value of his life being measured only in his productivity. His fingers, dancing almost effortlessly against his well-worn, yet well-kept, keyboard. The clicking of the keys, had almost blended together with the speed of the rain outside, though it held just as much meaning. What more is a singular raindrop, without a storm, than a single keystroke is, without a fulfilled essay?

At this desk, he had spent most of his time. It would be rare to find him away from this sanctuary, as, if he were to ever leave he would only get a steeper work load, forcing him back, just more stressed than before. It didn’t bother him, though; he enjoyed the desk, and the comforts it had brought him. In front of him sat a tool that could be used to complete workloads that would otherwise be seen as too much for a man to handle, and he loved it. His desk was rather quiet, though. Seldom would another soul find its way to this cold corner of his world. Isolated he sat, though it bothered him none, working away at another script that could surely bring him another 15 minutes of fame, before the nights’ worth of unfulfillment would creep back into his mind.

Eventually, a new glow had met his heartless eyes; his phone had received a message. A name lit up across his handheld cellular device that used to fill him with hope and excitement for the future, but now only brought forth bitter memories of what could have been, and what once was.  Swallowing his pride, he stopped using his fingers to create letters on a screen, and had instead put them to work by bringing the phone closer to his face. Though he would rather just forget this name, and move on with his life, he knew that it would be immature and improper to cut someone out of his life, for something like this. Upon opening his phone, he saw a face, accompanied by some letters that had just been put on his screen by the fingers of another. That face had once made the troubles of the world seem distant, but now it only reminded him how close they can strike, and how suddenly they move.

The message itself, beyond being a torturous reminder of what once was, had also been an invitation, to go out to eat. How ridiculous it was, that this face could still confront him as though nothing had happened, while he struggled to even wake up anymore. He had decided to accept the invitation, to attempt and hide the void left in his being, the hole left by that face. He had saved his progress, on the machine that sat on top of the desk in front of him, and took a deep exhale, as the breathing lights in front of him had dimmed to gray. Dressing himself, he had worn clothes that would fit a night out, but not necessarily a date, either. He had to maintain a balance between dressing nice enough to be decent, but not over dressing, either, he has to pretend he doesn’t care anymore.

Now dressed, and inside of his car, he turns on the ignition, and begins driving down the hill. Leading his giant mechanic horse, along a path, paved by tax dollars, and sweat. The rain, hitting his car, but not effecting his ability to steer and break, either. Gentle music had played in the car, just as it had played at the desk, earlier. Eyes, continually scanning the route ahead of him, just as they had been scanning the screen in front of him. Eventually, the paved path turned into a paved parking lot, and his metallic, mechanic horse, conveniently branded, “Ford Explorer.”

Another metallic horse eventually came up beside him too, and inside was that face. Greeted with a smile, he got outside of his car, walking over to escort the face outside of their car. The shackles of deadlines had immediately fallen off of him, as he was washed over with a sense of belonging. He embraced the face, and they went inside to eat. After the meal had passed, he didn’t want to go back to his cold desk, so he invited the face to partake on a walk. It was all just a ploy to stay with the face a bit longer, and put off the lonely distance that would otherwise come between them.

Going down the chilled boulevard, they had walked side by side. It was uneventful, but the face had made it mesmerizing, each moment feeling like an eternity. Each eternity still had felt as though it hadn’t lasted long enough. He had finally found a corner of this dark world, where it wasn’t cold anymore. Light had danced along, illuminating each corner of these eternities, with this light being a reflection of what he wants, compared to the illumination of the screen, that was a reflection of how he was going to get there. Though the stretch of walking space had only bought him an hour, the eternities had drowned out any sense of time, and time had come and gone, just as the night.

The author's comments:

People are confusing, and mom always warned me that women were evil. "Thorns of a Bush" recalls a point in my life, where i found not only all of my hope, but all of my flaws, in one person.

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