| General Fiction posted July 13, 2021 |
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I have a PhD in dealing with life's metaphors.
Charlie Deals With Metaphors
by Reese Turner
The last rays of the summer sun were disappearing below the horizon as Charlie boarded the train. “Man, is this a metaphor of my life? Laid off this afternoon, lost my company car – it’s there, inside the fence. I’m here, catching the train to Jersey at sundown. This really sucks! What’s next?”
“Tickets!”, yelled the agent, “Tickets, please!” At least I never had to ride this stinking train every day, in and out. Just look at these people”, he thought, “nobody’s smiling. They look hopeless. Is this train another metaphor of where my life is going?”
As the train picked up speed, Charlie fell deeper into the abyss of despair. “I have a degree. I worked hard. I made them money, got in on time, was respectful to management and the women. I dreamed of moving up, making more, having a little house with a wife, kid, dog, even a sharp car! What’s happening to me? What’s happening to my country? What’s going to cave in next?”
First stop. Ear piercing screeching of brakes. Commuters crowd to exit. “Look at ‘em! They look like zombies. Hobbled, pained, real anger. This is no way to live! Is this my future? Is this it?”
Train doors slam, the train rolls. “At least I’m not married. What would I tell my wife tonight? Yet, I wish I had a wife to kiss me and tell me she loves me, that we’ll work it out. I’m alone. Unemployed and alone - as hopeless as everyone else on this stinking train.”
A newspaper headline facing Charlie reported the latest death toll. “Wait! At least I haven’t died! Even better, I know how I don’t want to live! There’ll be a sunrise tomorrow morning. Sunrises are metaphors for new beginnings. I will be up early!”
Short Story writing prompt entry
The last rays of the summer sun were disappearing below the horizon as Charlie boarded the train. “Man, is this a metaphor of my life? Laid off this afternoon, lost my company car – it’s there, inside the fence. I’m here, catching the train to Jersey at sundown. This really sucks! What’s next?”
“Tickets!”, yelled the agent, “Tickets, please!” At least I never had to ride this stinking train every day, in and out. Just look at these people”, he thought, “nobody’s smiling. They look hopeless. Is this train another metaphor of where my life is going?”
As the train picked up speed, Charlie fell deeper into the abyss of despair. “I have a degree. I worked hard. I made them money, got in on time, was respectful to management and the women. I dreamed of moving up, making more, having a little house with a wife, kid, dog, even a sharp car! What’s happening to me? What’s happening to my country? What’s going to cave in next?”
First stop. Ear piercing screeching of brakes. Commuters crowd to exit. “Look at ‘em! They look like zombies. Hobbled, pained, real anger. This is no way to live! Is this my future? Is this it?”
Train doors slam, the train rolls. “At least I’m not married. What would I tell my wife tonight? Yet, I wish I had a wife to kiss me and tell me she loves me, that we’ll work it out. I’m alone. Unemployed and alone - as hopeless as everyone else on this stinking train.”
A newspaper headline facing Charlie reported the latest death toll. “Wait! At least I haven’t died! Even better, I know how I don’t want to live! There’ll be a sunrise tomorrow morning. Sunrises are metaphors for new beginnings. I will be up early!”
“Tickets!”, yelled the agent, “Tickets, please!” At least I never had to ride this stinking train every day, in and out. Just look at these people”, he thought, “nobody’s smiling. They look hopeless. Is this train another metaphor of where my life is going?”
As the train picked up speed, Charlie fell deeper into the abyss of despair. “I have a degree. I worked hard. I made them money, got in on time, was respectful to management and the women. I dreamed of moving up, making more, having a little house with a wife, kid, dog, even a sharp car! What’s happening to me? What’s happening to my country? What’s going to cave in next?”
First stop. Ear piercing screeching of brakes. Commuters crowd to exit. “Look at ‘em! They look like zombies. Hobbled, pained, real anger. This is no way to live! Is this my future? Is this it?”
Train doors slam, the train rolls. “At least I’m not married. What would I tell my wife tonight? Yet, I wish I had a wife to kiss me and tell me she loves me, that we’ll work it out. I’m alone. Unemployed and alone - as hopeless as everyone else on this stinking train.”
A newspaper headline facing Charlie reported the latest death toll. “Wait! At least I haven’t died! Even better, I know how I don’t want to live! There’ll be a sunrise tomorrow morning. Sunrises are metaphors for new beginnings. I will be up early!”
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Writing Prompt Write a story. Create your own title. (fiction300 words/beg/mid/end )beginning with the sentence: The last rays of the summer sun were disappearing below the horizon as Charlie boarded the train. |
This prompt allowed me to express my frustration and grief at what young people are facing in these times. It was hard enough for old Boomers like me, but these young folks have challenges we never imagined. My first real corporate job was in New York. I know my crowded commuter trains. I cannot imagine being unemployed there.
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