 McDonald's is the topic this time--well, not exactly. So, I was over in Broad Ripple. For those of you who don't know, Broad Ripple Village is the nicest part of Indianapolis, and quite frankly, the most active part of central Indiana. There's this gloomy Mickey D's out there where one is often afraid of being confronted by a stranger. By that I mean one fears conversation more than being mugged or shot.
After I ordered a medium double cheeseburger and was ready to take my seat, I saw an older local creating small talk with one of my cohorts. He blabbed about nearly everything. "You know, normally I wouldn't bother you," the gent said, "but my friend is coming into town and I'm just really ex-cited. Like, I mean, real 'cited." Of course, my cohort was nodding kindly and remarking with small gestures of compassion. "You know, young man," the gent continued on, "one day you'll get to bein' an ol' man like and you'll see how much you can appreciate one true, good, real friend. Ya know what I mean, man? I mean, he's done some things I'm not proud of, but I give everyone that one chance. You know what I mean, man? I gim 'em that un chance." Somewhere along the line, I spaced out from the conversation, since it wasn't mine to be listening to. Every three or four seconds after I took my seat, he kept turning around and mentioning how great life can be. How great people can be if you give them just that one chance. You never know when or where you'll receive your life lessons. In this case, my cohort learned life's lessons at McDonald's. In my life, lessons like this come from all of the small things in the oddest ends of the world. Whether on Capitol Hill or the local grocery store, someone will always give a fresh taste of reality. Even if they're coming off like a raving lunatic.
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AboutFear, focus, and the future. C.M. Humphries talks about writing, horror, and whatever. Archives
October 2018
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Her sharp nails clench my wrist and pull me closer, until I can see my reflection. From my forehead to the bridge of my nose, my flesh melts away, developing into a dark abyss much like her own.
Akin to a knife in my chest, a stabbing pain flares my lungs with each rapid breath. I spring upright in my bed at the sound of a loud rapping. My heartbeat echoes around the room; the sound is thumping in my eardrums, as if it derives from my head.
Akin to a knife in my chest, a stabbing pain flares my lungs with each rapid breath. I spring upright in my bed at the sound of a loud rapping. My heartbeat echoes around the room; the sound is thumping in my eardrums, as if it derives from my head.
Deep breaths through my nostrils, deep into my lungs, and out of my mouth, I focus in on silencing my erratic sounds. My heartbeat becomes nothing more than an unfamiliar drum in the background. I hear the knocking again.
READ MORE: "Facade"
