I slowly walk through the small town of Lawndale. The streets are quiet except for the small birds chirping. There are big mansions towering over me, with beautiful Greek pillars. The lawns are freshly shaved and groomed. It smells like the exotic flowers growing on their lawn. If only this was my home.
The sun is shining brightly but not enough to lift my spirits. I walk up to the first house with a beautiful paved walkway. Sometimes I feel like I don't belong. But I'm right I don't belong.
I leave the small stuffy UPS department and start my route. I slap on my blue hat and pin my name tag that says Jeffery. I get into a brown van without a door. Honestly I do not watch the road, I just watch the street signs and the houses. Never in front of me.
I hop out of the van and walk up to the first door. The door is painted gold and the mailbox is huge. I can barely reach the top but I do. Sadly they only had one letter. A large bill. Looking at it only made me nervous. I finish the block and my route but have nowhere to go.
When I reach the UPS station a turn in my hat and badge to see the workers returning home to their family's and friends but I have none. I walk to an empty trash ridden field near the highway. I walk up to a beaten up box. It's cold and dreary outside, clouds covering up every bit of sunshine there will be. I pray that it won't rain because I don't have enough money to go to the laundromat. All I want to do is die. But the weather always seems to go with my emotions. This time it's right.
I sat there. Lonely. In a pool of my own sorrows, until I heard a noise. Just rustling in the grass and crunches on the garbage floor. No one ever comes near this area. It is just a waste dump. I've never seen anyone here and I'm scared.
I try to sit quietly until a dark shadow appears before me. I tries to grab my hand but I pull away.
I rip my box in half and sprint away from the figure. All I do is run because I have nowhere to go. I never have anywhere to go. But it keeps following me. Why would it want me I'm worthless.
"Mother, I love you" I say. Flashback/ provide context and background info
"Honey I love you too." She says in a worried voice.
"Where's Dad? He should be home by now." I say. She gets up. Looks into my eyes but all I see is hers watering up.
"Honey I have to go." She quivers.
I want to ask where but I don't all I say is, "Are you coming back?"
She nods and whispers "I promise."
She kissed my forehead and was out the door. She broke her promise. She would say I would be safe but I waited in that little cottage until I ran away. And never came back because I was afraid she would break my promise again.
I fell on the damp concrete and look up at the figure who is hovering over me. All I do is scream " What do you want from me!" He doesn't answer. But tells me to come with him. "You knew me but you most likely don't remember. I have information that could change your life. Your parents passed that night, that they left you." "How do you know that!" I yell angrily.It slyly responded, "I know all." It was quiet. Maybe it was to quiet. "You might be thinking how can you help me, or there are too many ways you can help me but I can. How can my parents deaths help me. That only caused me pain. That only hurt me and I got nothing out of it," it said, " is that right. But I promised.” I have never been so scared by someone who can help me. Who is this? It was questioning my very existence.
How can you help me? It doesn't need to question my existence, I do that every day. I have nothing, yet sometimes I feel I've been through so much I should deserve the best. Then when I got lost in my thoughts he pulled me back to reality. "You've tried and worked so hard to get where only some people are, rich." It said then it handed me a piece of paper and disappeared.
Ahhhhh. It's 3 years later. I'm sitting in an imported lawn chair on the deck of my mansion. The pillars rise before my head and I'm grateful everyday. I've never had such luxury but I still give to the poor so nobody has to go through what I do.Ahhhhh. It's 3 years later. I'm sitting in an imported lawn chair on the deck of my mansion. The pillars rise before my head and I'm grateful everyday. I've never had such luxury but I still give to the poor so nobody has to go through what I do.
I look at my mailbox. It is small, very small. That is a promise I made to myself to remind me where I came from.
Speaking of promises, I walk inside and look at the paper given to me all those years ago. An inheritance. Who knew they had so much money.
But mom kept her promise, she came back for me, when I needed her the most.