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Thread: Pumpkin Pie

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    Pumpkin Pie

    In my English class, we were shown 4 images and we had to write a short story about each one. A while later, we went back and chose one of those stories to further elaborate on it. I chose the first one, which was a picture of a kid in a basket.




    It's autumn by now. It's autumn because the crackling of leaves resound under my big steel-toed boots as I walk down the sidewalk. It's autumn because the leaves that are still hanging onto slim tree branches are actually hanging for their lives. And, it's autumn because the odor of automobile gasoline is less eminent thanks to the refreshing smell of pumpkin pie gracefully leaking from open windowsills, as if the families baking them feel the urge to constantly remind me that I don't have pumpkin pie of my own. I trudge ahead anyway, not sure whether to feel jealous or relaxed. It's not like I can afford to buy the ingredients now that I don't have a job, and I'm not desperate enough to go up to a stranger's home. I sigh, subconsciously hoping that it is cold enough to see breath vapor, but it isn't so. Maybe then, I'd have a reason to keep wearing this same, bulky coat every day. I'm only wearing it now because I don't have a jacket to wear until the air becomes more stagnant and it starts to snow. I probably look like one of those people who feel cold all the time, unable to step outside without extra insulation.A leaf lands and dances on my hair. As I brush it off, I convince myself again that autumn is a nuisance, cursing all the pumpkin pies in the world as I move along. I don't know why, but I decide to take a shortcut through the local park. It's not really a shortcut, but parks seem like the types of places you'd pass through if you wanted to get somewhere faster.However, I don't have anywhere to go.Sulking further into my winter coat, I watch as the leaves fall like raindrops, now that I'm in an area with a lot more trees. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But I've already set foot onto the stone trail, and I don't desire to go back. I target a leaf and especially trample on it, as if it has been the cause of all the negative experiences in my life. That was to release tension. It'd be a waste of energy to regret such trivial things, I think to myself. Instead, I should be wondering where in the world I am walking to. That's right, where am I going? Where should I go? Maybe I should go get something to eat. I haven't eaten lunch yet, after all. I keep walking, as if my legs were automated and walking was a mindless task. Perhaps it is.I'm not hungry.I sigh again, this time instinctively. The cold air chills my nasal passage and makes it uncomfortable, like having a trespasser in my territory. When it is summer again, I will be sick of the warm air too. There rarely is an in-between, and when there is, not many people think anything of it. Funny how well that can apply to many other situations. It's just like how I only now know the troubles- well, lack of troubles of being unemployed. It is quite pressuring as to what is to be done, and how money will be spared. It gets tiring, ironically.I come onto a large path and spot benches along the sides of it. I sit down on one of them, feeling the cold and untouched surface jolt my bottom half. I think it is time to stop worrying about pumpkin pie or money and just relax, away from home. Slouching forward, I rest my body weight on my knees and stare ahead. Leaves are spinning so erratically, but fall so gently. They fall as though they were born into boring, static lives, and wanted to be different; to be wild, a little crazy. But no matter how they fall, they all seem to glitter in front of the orange sunlight peering from the tips of the trees.It's beautiful. If only I could experience this feeling again under different circumstances, then I wouldn't have to keep trying to calm myself. The late afternoon sun could do it for me. I deeply inhale. No pie. It feels good here. I exhale. A warm and tingly feeling comes over me, and I welcome it. I have not felt like this in a long time. Closing my eyes, I leave everything but the rustling of trees behind. I try and depict the source of the sounds in my mind, but they seem very far away, and they continue to move even farther. And so, I tune my hearing to adjust to the movements, to try and get closer to them. The leaves begin to cover me like a veil, and I can hear them just fine. But hidden behind it all, I can hear another sound, one that clearly distinguishes itself. It sounds like a more violent rustling. Just then, a loud thud ends my trance, causing me to turn around in anticipation to see just what was causing all that noise.It's a boy in raggy clothing. He picks himself up from the ground where he had fallen and gawks straight at me with wide, shocked eyes. His hair reaches his nape, covering his ears and sticking out in odd directions, and his clothes are blotched an ugly brown with dirt. After regaining himself, he quickly hops into the bushes and out of my sight.I stand up. I think it's time for me to go. Ignoring the bite of the cold against my face, I briskly walk towards the other end of the park. Yet, I hear more rustling from behind.He's following me.What does he want? I stop abruptly and turn around. He may be trying his best to hide, but I instantly see his leg sticking out from behind a tree trunk. I have an inner argument on whether or not to approach the boy. What reason do I have to meddle in his affairs? Oh, well he meddled in mine. Is that a sufficient reason?I walk up to the tree and peer around it. The boy nearly jumps a foot into the air in surprise and looks around frantically, as if searching for a way out.“What do you want?” I ask, sounding much more intimidating than intended. Maybe I am angry that he ended my daze. I finally had a moment to repose my mind, but it dissolved away as quickly as it had solidified. It is a shame.He's skinny, like a stick. Young, too. He must be about ten years old. His shirt is wrinkly and dirty, and it resembles a sea of mud. His pants are torn in many places. Keeping his head low, he looks up at me and points to his stomach. I can't help but pity him. If I am angry, now is not the time to release that anger. I'll have to stomp on a leaf later. I crouch down.“Are you lost?”He stares at me with a bewildered expression. It should be safe to assume that he is lost. Does he understand what I am saying?“Where are your parents?”A thought comes to my mind that he might not have parents. The boy cocks his head and keeps staring. All at once, my doubts come clouding back. Should I continue asking him questions? He may not even understand me, but I feel as if I'm prying too much. I try to rearrange my thoughts.“Uh... where do you live?”The boy, keeping his perplexed face, points in the direction we came from.So he understands, to an extent. He hasn't muttered a word, however, but I'll refrain from turning this into an interrogation. I'll try to take him back to his home... if he has one.“Great. Can you show me?” I find myself signaling important words with my hands, even though I had concluded that he understands English.I follow him as he walks in a surprisingly good posture. His back is straight and his legs are moving seamlessly, making him look much taller than when he is standing still and limping a little. I find myself observing him quite intensely, and I only realize this because he looks back now and then to make sure I am still here. We walk past the bench where I sat, and past the area where the boy fell. While I wrestle out of some tree branches, the boy seems to walk with such expertise. Are we really going to his home?We end up in front of a small grove amidst the trees. It takes me a while to register it into my mind, but there is a huge basket in the middle. It slightly resembles a picnic basket, only about three times larger. There are splinters of wood poking out. The lid had been flipped open, and I can see that there is something inside. It looks like a piece of cloth, dirtied in many parts. I look down at the boy, standing beside me. He fidgets a little before turning his head up towards me and pointing to his stomach again.Is this his home? He lives here? I survey the area again to make sure my eyes were perceiving my surroundings correctly. A grove? The cloth should be a blanket or something of the sort, I suppose. Or does he go into the basket? It looks spacious, but can he even fit in it? I turn my attention back to the boy, and he stares with even more pleading eyes.“Are you hungry?”He nods so fast that it doesn't appear like he's nodding, and instead, having a head seizure. What has he been eating this whole time? How long has he been out here? Why was he out here in the first place? I am filled with so many questions and the need to ask all of them, but I know I must not burden him with more than what he has to handle already. Still, I wonder if he has any preferences...“I don't have any food with me right now, but I think we can go buy something. Do you want anything specific?”His expression does not change. It seems as if what I just said flew entirely over his head. I think he'll eat anything at this point.“Come with me.” I said, throwing my arm over my shoulder in a beckoning gesture. As we walk back onto the stone path, I try and think of a place where we can get some food. The local supermarket comes to mind, but that would take too much time, not to mention that there is a higher possibility for the boy to get lost in the isles that are four times taller than him. I feel chills going down my spine at the thought of that. No, I will take him somewhere simple instead. I peer behind me to make sure that he is still following. Sure enough, he is only a few steps behind, walking in his unusually normal posture. He is looking back at me with his eyes squinted. Not in the way someone would squint in bright sunlight, but under extreme fatigue. I only notice it now, but there are bags under his eyes the size of the bottom half of someone's looming spectacles. They seem permanent and unmendable. If he were to ever tidy up his image, those periorbital circles would be the only thing standing in his way to being handsome.I turn my head back and walk to the end of the park. I'll just take him to a fast food restaurant.

    -split-
    Last edited by EpicCh33se; 08-06-2015 at 08:01 AM.

  2. #2
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    -split-

    We approach a crosswalk right as the light turns green, and without thinking, I start crossing it. Crosswalks are dangerous. If one were to walk when the light is red, an automobile could come screeching down the road and run them over. Realizing this, I peer over my shoulder again to confirm that the boy is still behind me. He is farther away now. More specifically, he is standing on the edge of the sidewalk, staring at me with a bothered expression. Is he afraid to cross the street? I look both ways to make sure that there are no automobiles coming, and then I motion him to come. I can make out his legs squirming slightly. Sighing, I stride back to the boy.“Come on.” I take his hand and usher him to move. Thankfully, the stoplight is still green, so we hurry across the street. As we step onto the opposite sidewalk, the boy almost trips, despite his overly contrasting posture. It occurs to me that hand-holding is not something to be overdone, and I wonder just how long is too long for the boy to feel uncomfortable. Deciding not to risk it, I let go of his hand and look around. To our right is the corner of the street, and a McDonald's, with its “M” sign towering even the streetlights.“It's this way.” I point at the restaurant.The boy's head slowly tilts up towards the top of the sign, and I look up too. I admit, it is a little intimidating even for me. Just a sign in the middle of nowhere that rises higher than the actual building it's meant to represent. I can't imagine how intimidating it must be for the boy. But even so, if I can buy something as simple as a burger, I'm sure it'll be a big help to him.“Is it scary?”He nods.“Indeed, it is.”We gaze at the sign for a little while longer.“Are you ready to go in?”He looks at me and nods again, in the same manner and fashion.I guide him through the parking lot and its faded yellow paint, and up to the front door. Opening it, a blast of warm air hits us in the face. It suggests neither a welcoming or repelling ambiance.“Sit down over there.” I point to a nearby table next to a window with a giant poster ad, and make my way up to the front counter. There are no other customers in line, and there are only two tables apparently preoccupied. It will result in a swift transaction. I look up at the menu above the counter. Something sizable should be ample enough.“One burger meal, please.”I dig into my coat pocket and pull out my wallet. Just as I reach for a bill, I realize that in order to do this, I have to sacrifice a meal of my own.A meal that is impossible to earn.A large portion of food; breakfast, lunch, or dinner. One of those will be gone for a day. I will be giving one of those meals to someone else.I look at my hand. It has already grabbed onto a bill on its own.I have no job, and no way of gaining this money back. Once it is gone, it is gone. I have not eaten lunch today. This could be for me. Uncertainty takes over my thoughts and I glance at the boy. He is looking at me, not interested in the world outside through the windows, but in me. I take a deep breath, and then I take the bill out of the wallet, not due to guilt, but due to deference. As I hand the bill over to the cashier, I feel as if a part of me is being torn away. However, it makes me feel a little better to know that the part of me being taken is going to be given to someone who needs it more than I do.I grab the cup that the cashier put on the counter and go up to the drink machine. I don't think soda pop would be a good choice for him, so I fill it up to the brim with water. The boy curiously eyes me as I walk back to the table, presumably wondering what was going on.“Don't worry.” I reassure him. “The food will be ready in a moment.”I hold the cup of water out to him. He looks at it, and then to me. I guess he's not used to being given things. I set the cup down on the table instead, to show that it is indeed for him. He doesn't touch it. A few seconds pass and I start to wonder if he is going to drink it or not, and then he finally does.I hear the cashier shout the order number, and I react by hastily walking up to the counter as if my life depended on it. I do not know why I suddenly felt such adrenaline, but it gradually recedes as I return with the tray. The boy does not look have a particularly hopeful or happy expression, and it rather pains me so, as though I had done all of this for naught. And I remind myself that my efforts are to help him live a day longer, not to make him happy.I sit down opposite of him. He unhurriedly removes the burger from its wrapping and bites into it. With slow movements, it doesn’t seem as if he is very hungry and actually, very cold. Even his chewing is steady and protracted. He keeps his eye on the burger, letting it warm him up, and he periodically inserts a french fry into his mouth. The bright sunlight shines on his skin and causes it to appear a glossy gold, making his dirt spots look like dabs of premium moisturizer. I had expected the boy to devour the food much more quickly than this, yet I am strangely okay with how he is eating now. His rhythmic nibbling has a rough sensation to it. Maybe it is hard for him to move his jaw.I rest my chin on my hand and look out the window. The sun is threatening to float over the horizon, and many people are closing up shop. It's just like any other day for them. They will go home, sleep, and then re-open their business. For us, we can idle as long as we want. The boy can take the time to admire the taste; time to take in the sensation. There's no need to hurry. There's no need to comply with the rest of society. We have no place for it, just like how society has no place for us.Turning my head back to the boy, I ponder if he has thought about this, how not many people care for a tousled looking boy living in the middle of a park. What kind of thoughts does he have? Does he go about all day seeking for food?The boy takes a bite out of the burger that is twice as large as his previous bites and looks up at me. His brows are bent down and his face a serious one, that looks like it has seen many dark occurrences in the past. Surprisingly, he holds his half-eaten burger up towards my face, and I stare in disbelief. Even now, he is giving away a part of himself to others; selfless, despite his situation. He is offering a piece of his own life to me.I wave my hands in front of me in denial. He tries again to give the burger to me, stretching his arm even farther. Again, I reject him.“No, it's yours. Eat it.”He looks guiltily at the burger, which in turn, makes me feel guilty. Thankfully, he starts biting it again. I watch him eat all of his meal. After he puts the final piece of the burger into his mouth, he looks at me, as if asking me what to do next, and I return the gaze, asking the same question. My body knows the answer, however, and starts moving. Getting up is uncomfortable and feels like I am starting up an old and rusty piece of machinery. After I come back from returning the tray, the boy, holding his cup of water, gets up from the seat and we both exit the restaurant, the cold breeze inviting us once more. As we cross the street, I notice that he does not hesitate to step onto the crosswalk.Did he fear crossing the street earlier? If he did, then his effort now is commendable. He is a strong person, much stronger than I am. My limited resources could be his luxuries, yet he is managing to survive. Does he wonder about death? How he could yield to it any second of the day? It depresses me to think about how all of it is possible. Exhaustion, hunger, dehydration, and hypothermia all lurk behind his back, but it does not hinder his admirable posture, or his will to keep moving forward.I had thought about letting the boy live with me. I've already decided against it, but I still do not know if it would benefit him or not. It would be hard for me to support two people. It is hard to support myself even now, and I could be dooming us both if I were to take him in. But then I try to think of what will happen to the boy, and what he will do from this point on. I try and think, to come up with scenarios, only to shield myself from what is inevitable.I am a coward.We are returning to his home. I did not tell him, nor do I need to tell him. No words need to be spoken to understand that there is nowhere else to go, and nowhere else to stay. He must know that he will be alone again. How many people had he met before me, if any at all? Of all the times he might have been left by himself, I consider how he might have felt.Before I know it, we are in front of the grove of trees. The sunlight has dwindled and many areas of the grove have become invisible. Regardless, I start to see this place in a new light. The basket is still here, familiar and motherly. The air is a little humid, but it feels warm.I look at the boy. He glances around like how someone would after returning from a trip far-away, ready to hibernate in their bed. He turns to me, and I crouch down in acknowledgment. Life is unforgiving, and there are too many people of greater importance than us. But even though we are small; even though we are unimportant in the grand scale of things, the actions we take for each other can mean everything. He smiles slightly, something I haven't seen him do until now. It's a sweet smile, like a piece of candy you find after digging around in a purse. It's all the thanks I need.I ruffle his hair joyfully.He'll continue to live his life without me, and I'll continue to live mine. Hopefully, someone will be able to help him like I did. However, even if he does not have the strength to survive, he will have the strength to carry on even through death. I'm certain of it.I take off my winter coat and drape it around the boy's back. He delicately runs his fingers along its texture, making sure that it is really there. This is my parting gift. It may not be much, but it is something to help him get through the winter. As I stand up, I take one final look at the grove, and then the boy. He's smiling again, and I smile back.This is farewell.

    It's kind of cold without my coat. The sun is projecting a sea of orange, yellow, and red across the sky, and it looks very easy to get lost in, to drown in the sunlight, to be overwhelmed by the vast expanse of space. It can be a terrifying feeling, or an unwinding feeling. We can’t have pumpkin pie every day. There are so many other activities we can do, so many other events we can experience. And here I am, wandering in the evening when I could be doing so many of those other things. I'll do everything one at a time, of course. After all, being unemployed, I have all the time in the world.

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    Was it all worth throwing away?

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