Moving On

The mailman walked up the weed infested, cracked driveway carrying Ben’s mail; the rusty pick-up truck sat in its usual spot next to the large bush on the left side of the drive. He approached the old, rickety house with caution and anxiety and quickly stepped onto the porch with two wooden rocking chairs sitting next to the door. He rang the doorbell and slid the mail into the slot on the door. He hastily stepped away from the door and waited a few seconds for a response. Thunderous footsteps approached the door from the other side, and the lock on the door slowly unlatched making a “click” noise when it was finally open. Out stepped Old Ben, he was a tall lanky man with a long grey beard and no hair on the top of his head; his face looked scared and leathery from age. Ben had a presence, standing in the doorway, that gave him a look of complete authority and intimidation. He said to the mailman in a low scratchy voice, “you’re six minutes late, now get out of my yard!”

The mailman responded in a frightened tone, “Very sorry sir, but there was…”

Ben interrupted, “I don't want any excuses, now get out of here!”

The mailman did as he was told and half walked, half ran to his car and drove away in a hurry. Ben stood in the doorway the entire time and watched him leave. Once he was confident that he was gone, Ben stepped back in the dark house and latched the deadbolt.

=<>=

Ben lives in a neighborhood in Detroit, his house was the first one built on the road and he has lived there for fifty-eight years. The paint is peeling and the windows have a fog of dirt that hasn’t been cleaned in years. All the neighbors viewed Ben as the local lunatic, they don’t let their kids play near his house and rumors started that he killed his wife.

=<>=

Ben steps out of the front door of his house with the keys to his pick-up truck in hand; he can feel the cool March breeze blow across his bald head as he walks across his driveway. The clouds are overcast leaving the sky gloomy and grey. He steps into the truck and turns the key, the engine rolls over a couple times, but eventually roars to life in a violent pattering noise. He checks his rearview mirror and begins to back out onto the road. In the corner of his eye, he spots a kid, maybe fourteen years old staring at him while sitting on his bike from across the street. He has dark brown hair and a lanky frame. Ben grumbles to himself and drives away toward the party store to buy cigarettes.

Ben walks into the small store with a large neon sign out front that reads, “BEER, LIQUOR, LOTTO.” He slowly moves down the aisle and picks out a bag of chips and heads to the clerks counter where a young kid, around 17 years old is working. Ben says to the kid, “two packs of cigarettes as well” The kid nods and grabs the boxes from behind the counter, and goes to scan the items on the barcode reader. The items are rejected by the scanner even after multiple                   attempts. The clerk looks at Ben with desperate worry, and says, “I’m so sorry sir, but I need to go get my manager.”

Ben replies, “Fine! Just hurry up.”

When the clerk and the manager return to the machine they still aren't able to scan the items with the machine. Ben has a rush of impatient anger and yells, “How hard can this be? Why is it taking so long!” He throws a twenty dollar bill on the counter, grabs the cigarettes and chips and storms out the door before the two workers could say a word.

When Ben returns to his house after the frustrating trip he pulls into his driveway and once again notices the same boy on his bike watching him. The boy stares from across the street directly at Ben and doesn't change his gaze once. Not being in the mood for kids messing with him, he gets out of the car and starts to chase after the kid across the street. The boy hops on his bike and speeds away leaving Ben out of breath on the side of the road.

=<>=

The next morning Ben woke up to unusually warm and humid weather for March. Surprised by the nice weather he went down the stairs and looked out the front window at the two empty rocking chairs. He considered going out to sit on the porch, but he quickly dismissed the idea after thoughts of old memories started to fill his head.

He went about his day like any other; he sat on his couch smoking a cigarette and watching jeopardy on his small box set television. He dozed off at around 2 o’clock for his usual nap, but the day started to change when he woke up.

He rose to the sound of tornado sirens and a loud whistling wind that cut through the air like a knife. The sky was the color of murky dark green water and he could see the trees blowing violently back and forth. Ben quickly moved through the house heading toward the basement; he stopped for a couple seconds to look at the two rocking chairs on the porch. He considered bringing them inside, but went downstairs without them. When he stepped into the dark and damp basement the whistling stopped and he was greeted by nothing but silence. He sat down on the cold stone slab floor and waited for the storm to pass

=<>=

Ben had fallen asleep through the night, and when he opened his eyes the previously dark basement had sunlight pouring in from the stairwell. He pulled himself off the ground and climbed up the stairs. When he reached the top he was greeted by the debris and destruction of the storm; wood and drywall were everywhere, and nothing but a few beams were left standing in his house. Complete dread and sadness filled Ben as he looked at his ruined home, it was all gone. He stepped onto his yard and looked down the street, not a single other house was damaged or destroyed. At this point he felt more than just unlucky, he felt cursed, His entire world had just been wiped out in one swift blow. The only thing he was thankful for was that his two rocking chairs were amazingly left untouched.

Unsure of what to do, Ben found a rake from where the garage once stood and started to sweep up the trash and debris in his yard. It was a pointless task, but it kept his body busy while he tried to figure out his future. While raking he noticed the boy with the bike coming down the street. The boy stopped at the driveway, laid his bike on the ground and started to pick up pieces of trash and drywall. Ben watched him in disbelief and surprise; he didn’t know what to say, or if he should be angry at the kid for being on his yard. The boy started to make a pile in the yard that quickly started to grow. Ben decided to continue raking; he and the kid worked for about an hour, barely making a dent in the giant mess that the house had made. Neither of them said a word to the other,  but Ben was enjoying the company.

Ben felt tired from working for so long and his old body ached from the exercise. He pulled up the two rocking chairs onto the yard and sat down in one of them, then he patted the seat of the other motioning to the boy to come sit down. The kid, also ready for a break, sat down in the chair and looked at Ben. Ben let out a deep sigh thinking about his peculiar situation and said to the boy, “So… what's your name kid”