Destiny is a Conspiracy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Earnest Parker is happy living a normal blue collar life, but when he finds himself facing death he experiences true happiness.

Submitted: June 19, 2008

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Submitted: June 19, 2008

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Happiness stocked the barrel,
Good fortune held it to my sweaty temple,
Hope cocked the hammer,
And I pulled the trigger,
All the while mediocrity wept in my memory.
“Earnest K. Parker”
Dusk resonated throughout an industrial skyline providing a hazy amber fusion of orange and purple that formed a synthetic halo of eerie light across the district. Singular rain puddles tainted by oily pollution blanketed the streets revealing the true appearance of the various buildings, that otherwise stood as silhouettes against the twilight sky. The former hectic streets lay barren as the departing sun exchanged duties with an impatient lunar influence. Most workers had left hours prior at the work day’s end, with expectations of warm meals and welcoming households clouding their minds amid arriving to their daily destinations. Each quota, job, and responsibility had been fulfilled apart from the preparations necessary to continue productivity for the next day. Measures, Earnest Parker gladly accepted to earn overtime cash and to delay the arrival to an empty home.
Earnest Parker worked the floor in a large two story factory that produced an array of concrete molds typically used as street dividers and makeshift walls.
He ascended a platform raised above an enormous red iron steel basin that churned all the rocky materials needed to formulate the powdery mineral component of gravel concrete. He proceeded to pull the familiar levers, and initiated the switches that dumped the earthy matter and set in motion the substantial concrete mill.
Blood rushed through Earnest’s dehydrated body and pulsed through his sweaty forehead. Symptoms of a hangover crash due to too many rounds at Earnest’s usual hangout. The place where every member had troubles or a story, where everyone is a silent companion rooting for you, the underdog, but out on the streets wouldn’t recognize you unless your eyes were bloodshot and the bags under them resembled a collection of burnt ash existing as flesh. But he was still contempt with his life, a natural loner depending solely on himself. Earnest Parker was a mediocre bachelor, happy to live a normal working class life.
His sight began to falter, as intangible white blurs skipped across his vision like gnats pestering a half eaten apple. Earnest lost his balance initiating a fall as his feet skipped across the yellow and red caution flooring. The mill was churning, grapefruit sized stones smashed into his face as his eyes opened once he was no longer air born. Earnest wanted to yell for help but knew it would go unheard due to the immeasurable sound of colliding stone and iron. Afraid of death and at a loss of composure Earnest covered his face and made himself as small as his body would allow.
Curled, scared and buried under rotating rock Earnest pleaded for his life. Negotiating with the God he had learned about from a strict family unit and Sunday school lectures, it was useless. Earnest knew he was going to die.
He found it ironic that at the inciting moment of death he wasn’t concerned with any aspect of his life leading up to this. The pain was gone, over exerted nerves relaxed numbing his entire meager frame. Death had lost its grip on Earnest Parker and he was ready to see what’s next, happy even. Happy to know that nothing mattered at all, his stomach filled with butterflies like the ones he would get as a child on Christmas eve laying in bed. Euphoria that he could not register flooded his mind. Earnest was excited, ready and feeling great. Nothing he had ever experienced compared to this masterful feeling. He couldn’t compute why he was so eager to die, but he didn’t care either.
As death devoted the final blow that would enshrine Earnest as a forgotten memory and untold charade, the excitement of extinction drained out of him. Bringing an end to the beautiful disaster that was Earnest Parker’s demise, the executioner that was to bring the end surrendered to Earnest’s new found love of expiration. The iron steel basin that churned all the rocky materials needed to formulate the powdery mineral component of gravel concrete, and carry out the eradication of Earnest Parker’s body to free his mind halted unable to conclude its delicate chore. Earnest Parker was going to live.
Three years of drunken nights, induced with the consumption of synthetic minerals to alter Earnest Parker’s reality depict the existence of him since that magnificent display of life taken and given back half mangled and equally distorted. He now sits at a bus stop waiting for a ride that he cannot pay for, asking a question with no answer. “Why am I still here?” he asks silently within his being, as he stares across the street at a white pigeon perched as a singular spectacle that he can rest his heavy eyes on.

The mere suspicion of an idea grazed his embodied mind, that he was staring and the culprit responsible for giving his life back so forcefully and unwanted. The bus was closely approaching but moving fast enough for Earnest to assume it was full. With misdoubt on his mind and his body to its feet, he pushed himself affront the public transit to finally end what should have been concluded. Earnest parker fixed the mistake of his destiny, to re-establish the sanity ofhis world.


© Copyright 2017 Luke Francis. All rights reserved.

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