Why to Care

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man realizes the importance of caring for others; however, it is too late.

Submitted: April 19, 2009

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Submitted: April 19, 2009



I walk in the street, uncaring about the cars stopping behind me. Blood drips from my nose and mouth, and everything seems to be a blur. A bullet in my side and a cut from a switch blade is on my shoulder. The busy generation thinks everything is ok. Driving their sports cars to work, uncaring of what really happens in the streets. Not a single person has noticed my condition as they drive by this night. A cold chill rushes down my spine and I fall to my knees. I need to predict that no one will notice me as I die in the street. Surprisingly a car screeches to a halt and a young woman exits it. I fall onto my stomach watching the pool of blood start to fill the street.

I used to be like all of those selfish ignorant people that think they are doing the right thing. They rush to work, act like they work their ass off, then go home and sit on the couch. If they have wives, they make them clean the house. If they are single, they allow the house to get filthy. I came home one day to an empty house. And I mean EMPTY. There was not a thing left, even my car was stolen. I had instantly thought the worst, and thought my family had been killed by robbers. I later came to realize it was my wife who took everything. I went upstairs and into my bedroom to find a note lying on the floor. “I have taken the kids with me, we are moving to Florida. You cared about your work more than you did us. I was stuck in the house. You worked for 8 hours, but I worked for 24 at home. Goodbye.” I ripped of the note until it was the size of an atom. I punch holes through the walls and kick the dust off the ground.

I sprint outside… I don’t know where I wanted to go, but I guess I thought I was leaving my problems behind. I slow down after I feel like my lungs fell to my feet. I wipe beads of sweat from my forehead and stop at a gift shop. I look at the entrance and see a homeless man sitting on the steps in front of the store. It was 15 degrees outside, and the man only had ripped jeans on. I approached him and handed him the 20 dollar bill in my pocket. He didn’t say anything to me, only smiled. I looked into my wallet, and saw that it was now empty. I drop it, and watch it land on the steps. It falls to the next step, then the next, until it hits the ground.

I walk down the steps, and start walking down the street. I came to realize that while I was basking in my glory of being wealthy, I had not even given to charity a single time. I had not thought about what pollution was doing to our Earth.I had not thought about anything but myself and my job. $5 dollars can buy a homeless person a cheap shirt for the winter.

I never returned to my home. It had memories of the time I didn’t care about people. After that day, I had lived in an alley for 4 weeks. I woke up one day to a loud scream. I peeked into another alley, to investigate. A woman was being mugged in the alley. Not a single person that walked by tried to stop the mugging. My face became hot, and I jogged up to the scene. The man had a switchblade to her neck. I tried to calm him down, “Sir, you don’t have to do this. I haven’t called the police, you can leave now.” The man turned his head to look at me. He spits in my face, and swears on me.

I grab his arm and successfully break his grip off of the woman. She instantly takes off, exiting the alley. The man swings the switchblade at me, and cuts my shoulder. I shout in pain and hold my arm. I swing a punch at his stomach, but he catches it. He pulls out a pistol and aims it at me. I raise my hands, and sweat crawls down my face. We stand there for a few moments. A police siren is heard, and the man panics. He pulls the trigger and the bullet goes through my side. I scream out, and the man turns around to run.

Everything starts spinning, and I can feel the life exiting me. I turn around, wishing to see something one last time. I start walking down the street, a bullet in my side, and a cut from a switchblade in my shoulder. Blood drips from my nose a mouth, and everything seems to be a blur. I fall to my knees, and expect no one to stop for me. A car comes to a screeching halt, and a woman runs up to my side. I fall onto my stomach, and watch the pool of blood start to form in the street. My vision clears for a moment, and I see the house. The house that was full of pain, full of awful memories. My vision blurs again. A white light shines into my eyes, and I start to smile. My eyes close, and I discover true peace.

© Copyright 2019 Tyler Ski. All rights reserved.

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