A Date with Destiny | Teen Ink

A Date with Destiny

December 18, 2013
By cabbage BRONZE, Private, California
cabbage BRONZE, Private, California
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Voices of the nearing sirens blared off in the distance, muffled by the intensity of the atmosphere. "Reach for my hand; I promise I won't let go." The words echoed through my head, reciting themselves over and over while my hands clutched my chest in attempt to stop the bleeding. The moment of my panic rehearsed itself before me. It was the moment that I could have had everything. "Reach for my hand," she had whispered, "I know you thought you'd never hear that from someone like me, but I promise," she paused, "I won't let go."

Again and again, those words replayed in my mind as I sat alone, dying. The first words I had heard her speak. The last I would probably ever see of her. And again and again, the very night played once more.

She stood before of me, her hand outstretched as I sat alone in the middle of the park, just below a bright streetlamp. Night had fallen a few hours ago. I checked my watch; it was exactly nine o’clock. Though the park closes at sundown, I love to come here while the grass is sleeping. And the distant bustle of the urban area surrounding pushes through the atmosphere just enough to mimic the roaring of an ocean's tide. Hushed and innocent - this was definitely my favorite part of town. After a long day of work or just a full-bellied meal, the park was the ideal place to think out the troubles and joys of the simple yet complex life I was living.

Oh, and here was where I met her. Destiny.

Before, I had only heard of her. Some of my friends mentioned how she's always working and never seems to sleep. And when she makes conversation, she speaks gently, as if she was guiding a child. And when she laughs, the world becomes silent and watches her soul glow. I've heard that she illuminates the darkness, and that she can take you places - places far beyond anything you could have ever thought up. Whether it was real or just the exaggeration of over-imagination, I don't know. Or I should say, I didn't know, because now. . . I do.

I met her in the park one evening; I'll never forget that night. It was as if she appeared out of thin air. I closed my eyes for a brief moment; and when I opened them, there she was, standing before me. She was beautiful and soft-natured. You would think she looked innocent and unaged by the anxieties of life; that is until you looked into her eyes. They were deep and dark, revealing the misfortune witnessed within. Unfocused and frightened, they were pulled by some strange force - to my own.

She stretched out her hand to me, her head tilted slightly, inviting me to come along with her. But in her open palm, a little marble waited. It resembled a droplet of rain, caught in mid-flight - a slightly elongated sphere. For a moment, I believed that was exactly what it was. But after a second glance, I knew that it was much more: It was control. Whether it was the circumstances around you, or the people you love, control kept it all; and the marble didn’t just represent control, all of control was that marble.

At that moment, I remember the very words she had said: "Reach for my hand; I promise I won't let go." I reached out hesitantly, unsure of what to make of her offer. It was as if time stood still. The clear marble she held in her hand reflected warmth and light. It was a curious thing, the marble. It told me that it was everything I needed. It was the very thing I needed to live for. It beckoned me to it and I didn’t resist.

It was then when everything went wrong. I reached out. I grabbed the marble from her.

Some people say that when Destiny stretches her hand out to you, you are supposed to take hers. You walk hand-in-hand, her guiding you where you need to go, no matter how unknown those places will be. You are supposed to follow and trust that things will turn out alright and everything will end well. But I didn't do that. The marble was what I wanted. Control was what I craved. Control was what I needed. I knew that if I had control, I wouldn’t need Destiny to guide me to where I wanted to be or where I didn’t want to be. I wouldn’t need to place my trust in anything else but myself.

My hand enveloped the small marble, and at that moment everything seemed right. I had it! I had control within my grasp. The stars had aligned and my future was certain and beautiful. But then I looked up from my hand to the face of Destiny. She held a look of surprise and then of fear. Then her deep eyes tore right through me, completely unforgiving that I hadn't taken her offer. Her face became contorted, disgusted by the betrayal I had just spit at her. I had taken control. I hadn't taken her hand.

I lifted the control out of Destiny's hand and she vanished. She simply was no more. Even though I held control of my life within the palm of my hands, even though everything felt right, nothing was right.

And amidst the feelings of hesitation, it happened. The marble began to glow hot. It became brighter and brighter, warmer and warmer, getting too hot too fast. I grabbed it tighter with both my hands - I couldn't let go of the control I had just received. I held on until my palms burned; I was certain my hands were violently set ablaze.

I didn’t know how or why, but right then, it fell through my hands. The glass ball floated to the ground. . . and shattered.

Immediately, the darkness around me reappeared, everything frozen for a second. Then a killer pain hit me square in the chest. I gagged and my hands reflexively reached up to hold my heart. The time didn't escape my sight. My watch read exactly nine o'clock. How could it be exactly nine o'clock? Had all this happened in a split second? Then everything began to grow cold, colder than before. My breaths became shaky. I couldn't move; the pain was too intense. I listened as my body let out a scream louder than life itself. And it was over.

I sat sprawled atop the bench, in a cold sweat and breathing heavily. I had a date with Destiny and, in a manner of speaking, lost my marbles. The shards of control I once owned had now vanished, and where they once resided remained a single handgun. And worst of all, as the sound of sirens neared, I didn't know what I would do, what I could do, with a bullet in ingrained deep into my chest.


The author's comments:
Now, dear Reader, I'd imagine this tale leaves you with more questions than answers. But the one question I would delight in bringing to light is this: Was the she real? Now think. Was she? Or was her very being merely a representation of opportunity? Sometimes control is not to be grasped. Other times, it cannot be.

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