Tentatively entitled The Guardian; UNEDITED excerpt
I don’t know where this idea came from for this story. It may have been the countless lives I see disintegrate. Maybe it’s from my own regrets. Maybe it’s from a society I see that’s collapsing on itself.
Maybe the world needs more guardians.
Anyway, for whatever reason, here’s a story I’m working on! It’s unedited. I honestly just wrote it like ten minutes ago.
The Guardian
Most people don’t wake up thinking today is the day they’re going to die. I know I didn’t, and yet, here I am, standing over my own dead body wondering what I could have done differently. Wondering if perhaps I’d have bought the double mocha latte instead of the glazed donut if maybe I wouldn’t have died. That maybe the time it took to make the latte in comparison to the time it took to pull a donut off the rack could have altered the outcome.
I was lamenting on regrets, on the ‘should haves’, the ‘wish I had’, and the ever famous ‘could haves’.
I always had the thought in my head that by the time I’d died, the playback of my life would be filled with incredible scenes of far off countries, extraordinary experiences I had, grand adventures, maybe deep sea diving, kissing my crush, the gorgeous, unattainable November Reed, captain of the cheerleaders and all-around goddess. You know, things to make you say, “Yeah, that guy was such a bad ass!” Instead, it was a short flash of mediocrity- my birth, opening a Hot Wheels track on my eighth birthday, my first kiss to Jenna Murphy when I was thirteen, my first car, homecoming, Christmas with my parents, eating really bad fruit cake my Aunt Glenda made and smiling through it like a champ while my younger brother Dillon laughed silently and pointed at me from behind Aunt Glenda’s back.
My playback didn’t include anything really awesome, and for that, I was regretful and a tiny bit bitter. OK, a lot bitter, but hey, I’m a dead eighteen-year-old guy. I had dreams. I had goals! And now, all I had was a pocketful of dirt and an eternity of being able to walk through walls. That seemed like a cool ability when I was nine, but now that it was my new pastime, it would surely lose its luster fast.
“I hope you cheer up soon because you are seriously being a real downer, bro,” a voice said from behind me causing me to jump. I turned around and gaped at the owner.
“Jamie?” I asked, astounded as I recognized the face of Jamie West, one of my friends that had passed away the prior year in a drowning incident out at Lake Huron. The thought hadn’t occurred to me that I’d see people I once knew. When no glorious bright light had appeared to me, I figured I had been forgotten about and would be left to roam the world alone. I had even given myself a pep talk about it, which really just consisted of me telling myself to stop being such a wuss and to “chin up”, something my mom would tell me when I was feeling down.
“Wow! What are you doing here?” I exclaimed, momentarily forgetting about my soon to be rotting corpse.
“I was in the area and heard you got run over. Figured I’d say hi,” he chuckled, giving me a bro handshake and clapping me on the shoulder.
“Yeah, well, what else was I supposed to do on a Wednesday morning?” I grumbled dryly with a sigh.
“Hey, man. You’re dead. The worst part is over. No sense in crying over spilled blood. You feeling me? Could be worse! You could be stuck in limbo, clinging to both life and death. I hear that’s not a cool place to take up residence.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I shrugged. “One minute I was crossing the street with a glazed donut in my hand, the next minute I was being flung through the air and struck by another oncoming car. It went black afterward and now here I am.”
“Damn, bro,” Jamie shook his mane of wavy blond hair. “Sorry it happened, man.”
“Yeah, me too,” I muttered, turning back to my casket.
“Nice outfit,” Jamie commented, staring down at my cold, lifeless body in the ornate box. “My parents put a suit and tie on me knowing full well I hated wearing that shit. Just goes to show that even in death I still didn’t get them to hear me.”
Jamie’s parents were well off, and Jamie had always been under scrutiny from his dad. He’d always tried to talk to them, but they never seemed to have time for him. I remembered the day he died vividly. We’d gone to the beach to hang out after he’d gotten into an argument with his dad over going to college. Jamie wanted to chill at community college, work, and make his own way. His dad wanted him to ride into Princeton on his dime. When Jamie told him how he felt, his dad got pissed and a fight ensued. Jamie, in his anger, stormed out of the house, called a group of us, and we went to the beach. The beach always helped Jamie become calm when he was angry. He said it was the sound of the small waves lapping at the shore. I figured it was just the solitude of not having to listen to his parents nag at him that helped him. No one really knew how he’d died. He was laughing and swimming one moment, and the next, his blond hair disappeared beneath the waves. The next time I saw him, he was lifeless on the beach, the paramedics trying to bring him back.
“Hey, about that day-,” I started but Jamie cut me off with a shake of his head.
“Don’t even worry about it, man. It was meant to be,” he brushed me off and looked around the room. “Look at that. November came. She didn’t show up to mine!”
“Wow,” I murmured, taking in her long legs in her short black dress, her red hair spilling over her slender shoulders in waves. She wasn’t the typical redhead. Oh, no. November was the redhead that had that creamy flawless porcelain skin, the kind free of freckles and blemishes. Her large, green eyes were so full of life that whenever I saw her enter a room, I sat up straighter just so I could pull more of the same air she breathed into my lungs. With her spectacular breasts and ten out of ten ass, I was sure she starred in more than just my teenage dreams.
She wasn’t putting on a big fake smile like most of the people in the room. In fact, upon closer inspection, I saw her eyes glistening with tears.
“Still hot,” Jamie breathed, gaping at her. “No offense, but why is she crying over you?”
“No clue,” I murmured, not even the slightest bit offended. “I think we spoke like maybe ten times in the history of high school.”
“Maybe she was harboring a little soft spot for Trent Parker, huh?” Jamie teased.
“Yeah, right,” I chuckled, despite the severity of my situation. It wasn’t that I was a bad looking guy. I had been fairly popular in a ‘hey, who’s that guy’ sort of way. I just never figured myself to be a November Reed sort of counterpart. My dark hair was always messy, my gray eyes always bright with laughter, my mouth always curved up into a smile. I was the fun guy, the goofball, the ‘I love you like a brother’ kind of guy.
I was content. And maybe that was my downfall. It all goes back to that stupid donut. I should have demanded the latte. It was basic symbolism. The donut represented my acceptance of the mediocre. Had I demanded something better, like the tasty, time-consuming latte, I might just be playing basketball with my brother in the backyard right now and not gazing morosely at my body in a casket.
“Can’t win ‘em all, Trent,” Jamie slapped me on the back. “Best to pick up the pieces you can and move forward. Dwelling on any of it won’t make a difference now.”
“And now what?” I asked, tearing my eyes away from November as she dabbed at her pretty, tear-laden green eyes. I hesitated on my parents as my mom wept into my dad’s neck, at my brother who stared deadpan at a wall, his lips twisted into a frown.
“And now, we “fly high”, just like all those posts say on our abandoned Facebook walls. “
“What do you mean?” I asked, turning to him.
“Follow me,” Jamie grinned, a brilliant oval of light appearing in front of him. “You’re going to love this!”
I turned and gave my family and friends one last sad look before following Jamie into the light.
