Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

A Wrong Perspective

Book By: JRA
Literary fiction


When your approached with a child, all does not go well. When your approached with a child, your life grows perspective. But from whom does the baby get it's perspective from? From whom does the baby learn from? From whom does the baby grow. And if the baby grows good, a life of happiness and joy will spread through it's existence. But if a baby learns wrong, all hell can break loose. The lesson relies on the teacher, not the student.


Submitted:Feb 20, 2012    Reads: 1    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


"Screw off!" I heard him yell from the subway. A small glass bottle was thrown at me. It hit the side of my coat, falling down to shatter on the cement. I clenched my fists, and my face grew red. But I kept on walking, loosing a tiny bit of pride. But no, no I wasn't about to show myself weak. A complete stranger, someone whom Ive never met before walks down the streets of London, and throws a bottle at me. Why? Maybe he knew me, maybe he's heard of me, whatever the matter may be, his foolish behavior wasn't about to be rewarded. I stopped at the sidewalk, and turned my head backwards. "Hey! Why don't ya' piss off, alright?!" I yelled, cupping my mouth. I shoved my hand into my pocket, and grasped my, now empty, package of altoids, chucking it in his direction. I heard a cry from the crowd, and it sounded as if I had hit a woman. I was shocked, and ran toward the noise. A young, maybe mid 30's, woman was kneeling on the ground, holding a child over her shoulder. I saw the dented altoids package on the floor, and the bruising on her hand. I had forgotten that I had used that altoids pack to store rubbish, and it was filled with all sorts of heavier material. I felt like a complete idiot, and lended my hand down to her. She looked up, staring me right in the face. It was only moments, but what seemed like hours. Some people believe stares can show true love, some believe they can show respect, but all I saw was hatred, and I knew I deserved it at this point. She grabbed my hand, and I pulled her up, taking the baby from her shoulder. The baby cried, and sobbed every second, very, very loudly. I tried to pat it, to calm it down, but nothing could shut the damn thing up. "Im, terribly sorry ma'am." I said to her, taking off the hat upon my head. "It's uh, quite alright. Nothing but a mere accident. But might I ask, what the hell did you throw at me?" I laughed at her remark, an urban joke placed onto a civilized phrase, funny, but very cliche. Didn't used to be, but now with the upcoming media, it is now, very cliche. "It was an-" I hesitated, disgusted with the truth. I let out a guilty chuckle, and focused my attention to the side of her. "An, uh, Altoids package." I claimed. She remarked this with incredible astonishment, and just laughed. "An Altoids package?" "Yes," I said akwardly, nodding my head, just once. "So, I got nailed in the face with a breath-mint container?" She replied. "Perhaps," She looked at me, with a small smile. We stared at eachother for a few seconds, simply examining eachother's trust levels, or atleast that's what I was doing. I could only make assumptions about her actions. Her grin suddenly faded into a frown, and she backed off a few steps. "Your not," She began. I gave her a concerned look, turning my head slightly to the side. "Im...who?-" I asked, very confused. "Your not- Are you Henry Grammar?" She asked me. My eyes widened. I stood there in complete shock. "Nobody has called me Henry in millenium. It's been 10 years since I've been addressed as Henry." "Answer the damn question!" She insisted, now very irritated at me stalling. I didn't think I was stalling, a woman shows in London at 9:00 A.M. with a baby over her shoulder, gets hit with Altoids, talks to me, laughs with me, and then freaks out because she thinks my name is Henry. "Yes," I responded. "Technically, I am...Henry Grammar." I said, immedietally following with, "But why do you need to know?" I asked. She held her hands out for the child, still resting upon my shoulder. "It's sleeping, its a sleeping baby, what do you want me to do? Wake it up, and have it cry in the public again? No, Im not gonna do that, im not gonna disrupt the whole town and leave it floating out in mid-air for you to grab." I stated, very, very fast. "If you want the child, you'll have to walk over here, gently pick it up, and be on your way. And may I ask," I began. "Who the hell are you?!" I yelled out. Everyone stopped to stare as they walked by now, as I had just blurted out to the public a greatly frowned upon word for children, and a horrible remark to be randomly using. Although it wasn't random to me.

She stood there, with her arms still infront of her, holding them out for the baby. "My guidelines stick, walk over here or I guess we're both waiting for this thing to wake up." She walked over to me, very fast and angry, and lifted the baby gently from my shoulders. She was about 3 and a half inches from my face, and she looked up in disgust. "Look at her, on the park, singing and swinging by herself in the dark. Haha, just give it a rest. Amy will never hang out with the best." She said to me, hoping that I would do, something. I thought for a second, and then stared in amazement. "Theres no way she will get a friend," I began. "Her luck, her sin will never END!" I yelled out to her, "Amy Rior! Amy Rior, the girl on the playground. The girl I-" I sighed, slapping my hand to my face in regret and self-pity. "The girl I slept with in Senior Year," "Yeah! The girl you knocked up right before ya' graduated." I felt so stupid, I felt like such a jerk. But then something once again caught my attention. I pointed at the baby. "So that b-" "YES!" She screamed. "THE BABY IS YOURS!" She approached me even closer, even more furious. "I have been looking for you for over 5 years now, and your not getting away from me, now." She handed me the baby. I backed away, but she came closer. "It's yours, take it you bloody coward." She demanded. "No!" I yelled out, nervously. "I have a job, a life! I will not take care of that thing! It's not my responsibility, anymore!" "It is most certainly your responsibility! Your the one that left, and never even cared the check in on me, or see how the damn thing was doing!" She remarked. "Well it doesn't seem like you've cared much for it, your addressing it as a 'thing'!" She grew angry, and gently set the baby on the ground. "2 weeks." She said, "What?" "2 WEEKS!" She yelled, just walking off into the crowd. Something came shooting out of the air, flying right in my direction. It landed right infront of me, it was a pacifier. "God damnit," I said, picking the thing off the ground. The baby laughed at me, "Ga Da-it!" It said. My eyes grew large, and I ran over to it, picked it up and covered its mouth with my, now dripping in sweat, palm.





0

| Email this story Email this Book | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.