The Paper Boy
The wind has swept in from the west, all of the leaves in all
of the trees are moving, rattling and making noise. From where I
sit I can see dark clouds moving in, moving around to engulf
me. The clouds are angry, they don't have a conscience so they
don't care who or what they hurt. Their flashes of light spear
there way across the sky, there coming, coming closer and
louder. I feel so defenseless against them, they are so big and
powerful. The wind isn't as strong now, a lull maybe, but I still
here the wind whistling, it is still making it's presence felt.
CRACK, there close now, I can feel their sound, what have I
done? what have I done to make them angry? They are
shouting at me, shouting in big Booming voices,I know this, yet I
can't understand them. They show their power, destroying
everything they want with their rods of bright light. Rain is
starting to fall, the sky is dark now, it feels as though we are
heading into night even though it's the middle of the day. The
over powering rain keeps on beating down. I feel I can't hear
anything else because of the noise, they prove me wrong though
by shouting in a deafening BOOM. I think I will hide now, I
hide under a table, waiting now, hoping that they won't see
me..... It is later now, they have gone now, the sky is dark but
they show there power no more, the wind is still blowing yet I
hear there thunder no more, and the rain is still falling but I
see no more lightning flashes. I have survived this encounter,
maybe next time I won't, next time I might not be so lucky.
The cool breeze is flowing smoothly through the
leaves of the large trees that surround me. I feel a
calming sensation moving through my body as I
relax, all of my senses seem to fade away. The world
around me starts to spin into a blur, a haze of colour
is all that I am able to see. There is a voice in my
head, it is talking to me, I try to run from it, hide from
it, I hide behind a thought, I have gotten rid of the
voice for now, for now that is.
I open my eyes, the world still a blur, I can’t tell
what is happening around me, I can only think of
leaving, I head off searching for a place to shed the
evil from within. I don’t know whether I find this
place, for now I must wait, hoping that I did, hoping
that I escaped, I suppose I will just have to wait, wait
for what? I don’t really know, all that I hope for is
that the evil will leave, leave from me, leave my body,
leave my mind, leave my soul.......
The morning glow of the rising sun spears
streaks of light across the slightly foggy sky. There are
few people in the street when Tony leaves his house.
Tony is a paper boy, aged 13. His mother died six
years ago and his dad is poor. He hops on his bike and
sets of to the printers to collect his papers.
He arrives at the printers and is greeted by an
angry gruff of “Your late Tony” it came from a voice
in a distant far corner of the printing room. It was
Tony’s boss, Mr. Dunbar, he is a short grumpy old
man in his late fifty’s that has something against Tony.
Tony replies with an answer of “I’ll try better in
the future Sir”
Mr. Dunbar turns with a scoff and continues on
with what he was doing. Tony is left to collect his
papers, which he does and then leaves to go and do his
round.
After leaving the printers Tony is thinking to
himself about how much he hates Mr. Dunbar. It’s the
same thought that he has each day along with whether
or not any of the other kids get treated the same way,
and if so do they feel the same way about him. One
new thought floats into Tony’s mind, maybe today is
the day, maybe today is the day that I can have my
revenge, show that Mr. Dunbar what it feels like to be
on the receiving end. He thought if only I had a plan.
He then continued on his round, not thinking again of
Mr. Dunbar, just of how beautiful the day was. All of
the fog had cleared, leaving behind a cloudless blue
sky, all of the flowers seemed to be out showing their
faces to the world. Even all of the people that Tony
past in the streets were cheery and gave him friendly
greetings.
Tony finished his round in 1 hour 30 minutes,
he thought that it could make Mr. Dunbar happy
because it normally takes him more than 1 hour 50
minutes.
But this was not so when Tony arrived back at
the printers, Mr. Dunbar was sitting at a table, hunched
over reading a paper, he was facing the way that Tony
enters. Tony said “Are you pleased Sir, I finished my
round quickly”
Mr. Dunbar answers with a grunt as he changes
sides of the table so his back is turned now to Tony, he
continues to read the paper in his hunched state.
Tony is pissed off by the reaction, he starts to
empty the remaining leftover papers from his bike. As
he was unloading his papers, a shining glint of a knife
blade caught Tony’s eye. Tony bent quietly down and
grasped the knife in his hand. Mr. Dunbar still has his
back to Tony. Thoughts race through Tony’s mind.
What should he do? How should I do it? It all seemed
to much, but then he saw a rope tied on the wall, he
follows it up with his eyes, it went up to a pulley on the
high ceiling, then across to the middle of the room to
another pulley. Suspended from this is a printing press.
Tony has no idea of what is was doing there. Then
something happened in Tony, it almost was instinctive
to him, a natural occurrence. Still grasping the knife in
his hand he walked across to the wall where the rope
was attached. Tony then said loudly “Hey Dumb-bar,
your so stupid,” Mr. Dunbar swung around, stood up
and started towards Tony. Tony then broke eye
contact with Mr. Dunbar by scanning up towards the
printing press. Mr. Dunbar stops in mid step when he
sees that movement, and looks up in shock when he
realizes that Tony had already cut the rope that was
holding up the press.........
“Tony,hey TONY, what are you looking at” Mr.
Dunbar asked in an angry tone
After a short pause Tony reply’s “Sorry, I must
have been daydreaming”
“Well get on with it and get out of here you lazy good
for nothing”
Tony turned with a smile, tossed the last few papers
out of his bike, then jumped on it and rode off laughing
very quietly to himself.