Summary:
This is a personal essay i wrote in my sophmore year of high school
Alex Curley
May 04, 2003
SYMBOLISM
He wakes. It is 7:00AM. As his eyes adjust to the sunlight, he reflects on his life. Born in the projects, grown in the projects, and taught in the projects, his views differ from most children his age living in suburbia. Although he is only twelve, his collective wisdom of the streets rivals any adult in his life. At school, he's not well known by his fellow peers, although his teachers see him as a budding genius. He has no real interest in anything, and it almost seems as if he only exists. He figures one day his purpose will come to him. As his eyes finally begin to cope with the light outside, his mother enters his room.
"Get up, get up! You have to go to the store and buy me a few things." His mother is a hard working and single. She does her best to raise her son so that he will one day grow to be successful by completely lawful means. She works at a local ABC store, where being robbed is no freak occurrence. She worried all the time that her son will
turn out to be a criminal.
Slowly he becomes more alert and aware of what was around him. He lives in a small room with a single mattress with one blanket on the floor. He is, however, grateful for what he has, because he knows some other children his age are not so fortunate. He lives in a thirteen story building on the twelfth floor. He always hated the impending descent down the narrow stairway. The walls almost seem to close in on him, and the fact that there was no railing made it just that much worse. When he reaches the bottom of the grueling twelve-flight declivity, he sees two old men playing chess, and another watching. His mother told him that he should treat them with the utmost respect. They were there every morning he came downstairs and sometimes he took no notice of them whatsoever, including them as part of the decor. Today, however, they acknowledge him.
"Young blood! How you doin"" Asked the eldest of the two.
"I'm alright, you"" He said.
"Good, good! Come on here and take a seat. Let's see how you fare in a game of chess."
The other two men beckoned him as well, and figuring he didn't have anything else to do that day, he sits.
"I've only played a few times before," he said.
The three old men tell him he doesn't have to worry about it, and set up the pieces for him. The old man is black, and he was white. He knows enough about the game to know he was to move first. He moves his pawn in front of his king two spaces forward, and the old man does the same. He moves another pawn that's in front of his rook, and the old man moves out a bishop. He can't see any possible damage that the bishop will do, so he moves the other pawn in front of the rook on the opposite side of the board. The old man moves his queen so it is parallel with his bishop. Again, he can't see any damage the queen can do, so he simply moves a knight.
"You know young blood," the old man he is playing said as he checkmates him with his queen," chess is a lot like life; it's confusing, it's long, but you should never drop your king and give up. Don't forget to smell the roses outside, young blood."
And at that, the three old men begin talking and laughing amongst themselves, ignoring the young boy sitting just feet from them. Feeling down on himself for losing to a crone in four moves, he walks outside. He doesn't make it past his stoop before he notices it. A large rosebush is right outside the door. It looks as though it were dying from the left side first to the right, because the flowers on the left are fading, while those on the right still have luscious red pedals. He's sure that this bush hasn't been there the day before, and being too tired to think about it, he puts it in the back of his mind and continued on his way.
The store he needs to go to is on the other side of his neighborhood, which is about a mile away. His hood isn't too big. It's about three square miles and he knows all of it fairly well. The mile long strip of road, which his place is on, is alive all the time. The sidewalks are always full of all sorts of people. There are tall buildings on both sides of the 2-way street, which give the whole strip of road an enclosed feeling. Although violence is high, he likes his hood. Things flow in a rhythmic harmony that never seems to slow down, even in the dead of night. As he looks at the businesses on either side of the street, he almost feels like it's a cultural experience. There's a law firm next to a Chinese restaurant, next to a pool hall, which was next to the only gap in the walls on either side of the street. This is generally where a group of people gets together and freestyle back and forth as one or two people set a beat with some sort of object like a garbage can. In the middle of all of this culture is a church. This church doesn't belong to any one religion, but it's more of a place, which people get together to pray. The church is highly respected by everyone in his neighborhood, and as a result, there are little to no crimes committed on the church block. He goes to church every Sunday with his mother, yet he has no strong religious convictions. He can see the store he was headed to now. Although it was far away, it was one of those stores everyone went to.
When he reaches the store, he notices a character he has never seen in his neighborhood before. He's extremely tall, and is wearing a long black trench coat with a large black hat that shades his eyes.
Although he can't quite see his eyes, the odd character is blatantly staring at him. When he approaches, the man speaks to him.
"Hello Michael." the man said.
"How did you know my name"" he asked.
"Because I have knowledge," said the man in a sarcastical manner.
Michael thought it odd that he would be so sarcastic about something like that, seeing as people in his neighborhood were getting shot all the time for the same sort of comment. Michael, having nothing else to say, simply waited for the man to explain himself.
"My name is Iam, and I'm here to help you."
"Man, what could you possibly help me with? Take your homeless ass and get outta my face."
"You will know when the day is done, Michael."
"Alright man, you got anything else to get off your chest"" Michael asked, thinking Iam was a few bricks short of a load.
"Yes, Michael, I do. I am forewarning you of the imminent apocalypse that Earth will be facing when the day is through. The people of this planet are undeserving of it's inherent wealth and beauty," Iam said, and simply stared at Michael until he spoke again.
"What say you, Michael""
Michael pauses for a minute just to stare at Iam and said, "Bullshit." Michael couldn't believe his unfortunate luck to have run into the craziest bum in his hood.
"I expected as much, Michael, so I will give you signs of the truth in my words throughout today, and by the end of the day, I will have helped you more than anyone else in your life."
Still disbelieving Iam, Michael asked for proof right then and there. Iam said, "It is done." At that, Iam flips the tail of his trench coat in the air and vanished. Michael is stunned. He gradually begins to realize he's wearing an astonished face while not looking at anything that would astonish him. He walks into the store slowly, trying to take in everything that has just happened. He grabs everything he needs and gets in line to pay for his items.
"Since when did bums have the power to disappear"" Michael wondered. After about ten minutes, it's his turn to pay. Michael drops his items on the counter and reaches into his pocket for the money. The only thing he feels is a thin slip of paper.
He pulls it out and reads, "You must release yourself from the chains of materialism, Michael. The apocalypse is coming, you don't need that box of ho hos." Michael looks at the box of ho hos sitting on the counter, apologized to the clerk, and walks out of the store. Michael has an eerie feeling that Iam might not have been some bum off the sidewalk, but he still refuses to believe that the apocalypse is only a few hours away.
Michael begins to walk back to his house, hoping he can just lock himself up in his room until all of this passes over. As he passes the gap in the buildings, he sees a group of younger kids in a huddled group there. He soon realizes that they are all in his class at school when they begin to shout his name, inviting him to join the group. Although Michael is rather introverted, he, as it is with most children like himself, always wanted to be like everyone else. It was this that drove him into the circle of boys.
"Hey man," said one of the boys, "you know Damon, right""
Michael nodded, recalling a boy named Damon in his school who is a notorious bully to everyone.
"Well we're gonna jump his ass when he comes out of his house at noon for basketball practice. You want in"" Michael has never really been harassed by Damion, but this seemed like the perfect opportunity to get himself on the inside of what he wants to be a part of so badly. He's preparing to join in, when sparks fly from above, and all of the boys run as a neon sign falls apart. Most of the letters had fallen off except for four or five. Of the five letters, the ones in the middle were "I am." Michael can't believe this to be coincidence. Iam is trying to tell him something, trying to help him. Michael stares at the sign, then turns to the rest of the boys, who are just getting over there fright.
"I don't think I can do this," said Michael, expecting ridicule.
And ridicule was what he got. He listens to their jeers until he is out of earshot, but even though he has just missed out on popularity, he feels content.
The day is progressing rather slowly, and Michael finds himself wandering aimlessly around his neighborhood; he has forgotten he was going to his house. He is in a crowd of people, minding his own business, when suddenly a younger but bigger kid his age bumps into him. Michael simply gives him a dirty look as the kid walked on. Five steps later, another person bumps into him, and Michael voices his anger.
"Hey man! Watch where you walkin!" Then another person bumps into him, and Michael becomes enraged. Yet, before he can let loose a verbal torrent upon this person another one runs into him. All rage diminishes when he realizes this has to be the work of Iam. One after another, people are running into him and walking on. He begins to ignore them as best he can, to work out a plan, since he was sure they wouldn't stop until he performed some sort of action. All he can think about is that if today is indeed the apocalypse, people should be acting a little more friendly. Then, it clicked.
As the next person bumps into him, Michael said, "Sorry, excuse me."
The man stops, turns around, and says, "No. I'm sorry Michael. Have a nice day."
He then continues on down the sidewalk. When Michael turns around, there are only a handful of people left on the sidewalk. Michael soon begins to believe what Iam has told him. Today could very well be the apocalypse. If it is, then why was he informed beforehand? He has dozens of questions running through his head, with no one person to direct them towards.
"Well done, Michael, well done!" It was Iam.
He is wearing the same outfit as before, but Michael notices that the shade that was covering his eyes before has now lowered enough so it covers some of his nose as well. Michael begins asking him questions, speaking a mile per minute, trying to get everything from his brain, to his mouth, and into the air before he forgets anything.
"Why are you doing this to me""
"Why not"" Iam said with a smile.
"Well, why is there going to be an apocalypse""
"Because that is what must happen. Man has evolved into something different than its creator intended. It has become inherently weak willed against the evils. The Earth must be cleansed of all Man and start anew."
"What was with the note in my pocket, and what was with everyone bumping into me""
"The note explains itself, and I believe you now understand the concept of being good natured," Iam said with a smile yet again.
"You are learning already! I am so proud, Michael."
With that, Iam gives Michael a wink, and vanishes. Surprised, yet no longer astonished by Iam's disappearing, Michael instantly becomes furious. He wasn't sure about all of mankind, but he didn't deserve to die, and he knew his mother didn't deserve to die. He is hoping this was some sort of horrible nightmare his mind had created for him.
Once again lacking an alternative, Michael begins to walk back to his house. He begins wondering about what is going to happen to everyone once they die. Will they be sorted into two groups? Good and bad? Or will all of them be sent to Hell, since they are all inherently evil? The more he wonders, the more deep, and philosophical his questions become. Eventually he realizes that there will be no straight answer, even if he asked Iam. He was about halfway home, when he sees a fifty-dollar bill sitting on a park bench. He stops and stares at it for a good ten minutes, then he simply continues walking. What is fifty dollars now? What was it before he knew about the apocalypse? If everyone is going to die, then is there really a need for that little green piece of paper? Michael accepts that material possessions are of no use to him anymore, and, now that he thinks about it, they were no use to him to begin with. The only thing he really cares about was his life and that of his mother.
It is nearly dark now, and Michael has not yet accepted what is bound to happen. He is walking down the street, when he comes to a crosswalk with a red hand telling him he can't pass. Shortly after coming to a stop, a group of men in their young adulthood stop behind him. Michael simply ignores them, and they do the same. Michael then hears the screech of tires around a corner he had just turned, and sees a black car roll up beside him and the gang behind him. The windows of the car slowly rolled down and the guns come out. A cacophony of gunfire explodes from the car as if an entire army of soldiers were firing their rifles. Michael is anchored to the sidewalk in a state of total shock. The first bullet hits him in the leg, and then the next few bullets crawl up his torso until the last bullet goes off his shoulder. Michael collapsed and blacks out as soon as he hits the ground.
Michael is dumbfounded when he comes to. He is in no way confused of what had just happened to him, but rather awestruck that he had actually regained consciousness. He was sure he was going to die before the apocalypse even occurred. Then, he sees Iam. It was dusk, and the only part of Iam's face left is mouth and chin.
"You saved me"" said Michael.
"I can't have the only man on earth with knowledge of the apocalypse die before it happens, now can I"" said Iam.
"For the first time, I think I'm glad I know I'm going to die."
"Excellent! I knew you had a sense of humor in you! Now, let's get you off the ground here and back into your home."
As Michael rises, he finds that he has no visible signs of the bullets that had ripped through his flesh like a knife through butter only ten minutes ago. He looks over at the sidewalk, seeing a group of mutilated bodies. This was nothing new to Michael, yet he begins to cry, for he knows that they all had mothers who would not be able to see them before they departed into the afterlife. Iam smiles in a contented manner, and swoops Michael into his arms. Iam carries Michael to his building, up the stairs, and into his room, where he lays him on his bed. Michael, still crying, thanks Iam through the tears for what he has done for him. Michael tells Iam that he realizes now that the world is inherently evil, but he loves it all the same. Michael tells a totally shadow-covered Iam that his life is not important, but that he wants Man to survive.
Iam simply said, "You are inherently good, Michael. I know what it is that you wish, and if you truly want it done, I will grant it." Michael nodded his head, and Iam took him out of bed.
Iam brings Michael to the thirteenth floor of the building, and lays him on another bed, an exact replica of the one in his room. The thirteenth floor is one room, in which there is one large table, with thirteen seats. There's nothing else in the room besides the bed, Iam, and Michael. Michael is no longer crying, and tells Iam that he is ready.
Iam sits next to Michael, touches his cheek, and said, "Rest now, for you are their savior."
With that, Michael falls into a deep sleep, from which he never awakes. His mother finds him the next morning, and calls the police. The autopsy returned no cause of death. Michael's mother is heartbroken, yet for some odd reason, she feels intense pride for her son in his death. She never knew why.
This is the complete article, containing 3,151 words
(approx. 11 pages at 300 words per page).
