A Second Chance

by Mike Fontanini

        He sat up, awakened by the first light of dawn, and the sounds of cars on their morning commute. He stretched; his back was stiff from sleeping on the concrete sidewalk. He looked around him for something to eat for breakfast, but there was nothing, at least not anything remotely appetizing. He looked toward the rising sun but could see only the high-rise building in front of him. He lulled his head back down, looking solemnly at the cold, dead concrete. Once more, like every other morning, he was disappointed. Every night he would go to sleep hoping that when he woke up he would find that it was all a dream, but day after day nothing changed. It seemed some things just never change. He was still here on this street, a beggar.
        He heard footsteps getting louder as someone was coming down the sidewalk. He looked at the person, but it walked on by, never acknowledging his existence. His head sunk.
        This was the kind of thing that happened every day. No one ever made eye contact with him or any of the other beggars that were around the area. They just walked faster when they past a beggar to get away from them as fast as possible. But every once in a great while some kind person would walk by slower and give him a byte to eat or a few coins. He appreciated the food, but the coins were worthless to him. They weren't enough to buy anything.
        Often he would become lost in himself, remembering the past. He would think of all the hearts that have been burned when fate brings another twist by snapping its cold, ancient, remorseless finger. He would think of his family. He wished he could have his family back, but no matter how much he wanted it, he couldn't bring them back. He could still recall the rainy night he found out that his family was wiped out in a plane crash. Still, he could not bring them back, for they were lost in the shifting sands of time.
        Whenever he would lose himself to escape reality, he would also think of other things in his past, things in his own life and things in other peoples' lives that he heard on the news or in stories or from others. He could be lost in the past like this for hours and when he would return to reality, he would never be quite sure how long he was gone. He was always welcomed by a crude awakening when he returned to reality. His stomach would growl and he would feel the cold, rough concrete beneath him.
        This morning he was lucky, he found something to eat for breakfast. It wasn't filling or delicious or mouth watering, but it was sure better than nothing. He ate it quickly, not knowing when he would eat again. With nothing else to do now that he was done eating, he slipped away again.
        Once more, he thought of his family. He thought of a group of worshippers he'd seen on the news standing in front of their church after it had been blown apart by a tornado. He thought of a believer in God who's losing his faith because the existence of a god seems more absurd every day in a world so saturated with pain, and starting to believe that there isn't a Hell because this world's already to much like Hell for him. He thought of when the little kid next door had his heart broken as he watched his puppy get hit by a car. He thought of a little boy who's grandma just died. He thought of a kid stuck in the middle of a bitter custody battle. He thought of kid who's parents were divorcing. He thought of a fifty year old man who's heart broke every time he heard an old love song or a certain name that belonged to his love who was killed in a traffic accident. He thought of an old widow who's husband just died. He thought of a war veteran who'd watched his best friend get blown away in a war. He thought of a twenty year old who's dying of a terminal illness. He thought of the insane trapped inside themselves. He thought of the Jews that lost their loved ones in concentration camps. He thought of a little five year old boy dying of cancer. He thought of a little black boy who had no friends of the same ethnic background and how he was always looked down upon by the white boys. He thought of the kid who lived up the road that was hiding his heartache over the death of his dog that he'd had for ten years. He thought of a town that was torn apart by a school shooting, and of the troubled teen who'd never had anyone and finally snapped. He thought of the people who went down with the Titanic. He thought of a racecar driver who was killed in a wreck from head injuries. He thought of the racecar driver's family, his friends, and his fans, and how they all must've felt and how the racing community was torn apart. He thought of the loner, named Tony Heft, that he saw back in his school days. He remembered the look he saw in that kid's eyes when he'd lost his best friend. He thought of how he was a bully back then and how he'd picked on that kid so much. He thought of how that kid was always chosen last in gym and the cruel things he'd seen kids do to him. Suddenly he was coming back; he could here a voice but it sounded distant. As he slowly came back to reality, the voice grew nearer and nearer.
        He saw a face. It seemed somehow familiar. He studied it closer as it talked to him. The voice seemed somehow familiar too. Then all at once he thought he knew who it was.
        "Tony Heft, is that you?", he asked.
        "Blair Slinger?", replied Tony.
        "Yes, that's me, I remember you from way back in school!", exclaimed Blair.
        "You were the bully weren't you?", asked Tony.
        "Um, about all those things I did to you back then and all those times I picked on you, I'm sorr", said Blair sadly, but Tony interrupted him before he could finish.
        "You don't have to apologize. That's all in the past. Besides, I forgave you for that a long time ago. Here, come with me.", replied Tony.
        Tony helped him up. He followed Tony down the sidewalk, the buildings sliding by in the opposite direction. Soon they came to some steps leading to a door in the front of the building. Tony opened the door and they went inside.
        "You can stay with me.", explained Tony.
        "Thank you.", said Blair feeling awkward.
        He was taken completely by surprise. He never would have expected this, especially from the one person he'd hurt more the anyone else.
        He looked around him and quickly decided that this apartment was much more cozy than that cold, damp concrete. He was stunned by this kindness out of nowhere so he told Tony that he would be forever thankful.
        As time went by and they were around each other more and more, Tony and Blair became close friends. As they became the best of friends they realized how fate sometimes brings funny little twists, but Blair especially learned this from this most recent twist of fate that brought him a second chance.

Go Back to Writing Hompage

Home	Links	Games	Writing	Reviews	Authors
	A Second Chance by Mike Fontanini
	He sat up, awakened by the first light of dawn, and the sounds of cars on their morning commute. He stretched; his back was stiff from sleeping on the concrete sidewalk. He looked around him for something to eat for breakfast, but there was nothing, at least not anything remotely appetizing. He looked toward the rising sun but could see only the high-rise building in front of him. He lulled his head back down, looking solemnly at the cold, dead concrete. Once more, like every other morning, he was disappointed. Every night he would go to sleep hoping that when he woke up he would find that it was all a dream, but day after day nothing changed. It seemed some things just never change. He was still here on this street, a beggar. He heard footsteps getting louder as someone was coming down the sidewalk. He looked at the person, but it walked on by, never acknowledging his existence. His head sunk. This was the kind of thing that happened every day. No one ever made eye contact with him or any of the other beggars that were around the area. They just walked faster when they past a beggar to get away from them as fast as possible. But every once in a great while some kind person would walk by slower and give him a byte to eat or a few coins. He appreciated the food, but the coins were worthless to him. They weren't enough to buy anything. Often he would become lost in himself, remembering the past. He would think of all the hearts that have been burned when fate brings another twist by snapping its cold, ancient, remorseless finger. He would think of his family. He wished he could have his family back, but no matter how much he wanted it, he couldn't bring them back. He could still recall the rainy night he found out that his family was wiped out in a plane crash. Still, he could not bring them back, for they were lost in the shifting sands of time. Whenever he would lose himself to escape reality, he would also think of other things in his past, things in his own life and things in other peoples' lives that he heard on the news or in stories or from others. He could be lost in the past like this for hours and when he would return to reality, he would never be quite sure how long he was gone. He was always welcomed by a crude awakening when he returned to reality. His stomach would growl and he would feel the cold, rough concrete beneath him. This morning he was lucky, he found something to eat for breakfast. It wasn't filling or delicious or mouth watering, but it was sure better than nothing. He ate it quickly, not knowing when he would eat again. With nothing else to do now that he was done eating, he slipped away again. Once more, he thought of his family. He thought of a group of worshippers he'd seen on the news standing in front of their church after it had been blown apart by a tornado. He thought of a believer in God who's losing his faith because the existence of a god seems more absurd every day in a world so saturated with pain, and starting to believe that there isn't a Hell because this world's already to much like Hell for him. He thought of when the little kid next door had his heart broken as he watched his puppy get hit by a car. He thought of a little boy who's grandma just died. He thought of a kid stuck in the middle of a bitter custody battle. He thought of kid who's parents were divorcing. He thought of a fifty year old man who's heart broke every time he heard an old love song or a certain name that belonged to his love who was killed in a traffic accident. He thought of an old widow who's husband just died. He thought of a war veteran who'd watched his best friend get blown away in a war. He thought of a twenty year old who's dying of a terminal illness. He thought of the insane trapped inside themselves. He thought of the Jews that lost their loved ones in concentration camps. He thought of a little five year old boy dying of cancer. He thought of a little black boy who had no friends of the same ethnic background and how he was always looked down upon by the white boys. He thought of the kid who lived up the road that was hiding his heartache over the death of his dog that he'd had for ten years. He thought of a town that was torn apart by a school shooting, and of the troubled teen who'd never had anyone and finally snapped. He thought of the people who went down with the Titanic. He thought of a racecar driver who was killed in a wreck from head injuries. He thought of the racecar driver's family, his friends, and his fans, and how they all must've felt and how the racing community was torn apart. He thought of the loner, named Tony Heft, that he saw back in his school days. He remembered the look he saw in that kid's eyes when he'd lost his best friend. He thought of how he was a bully back then and how he'd picked on that kid so much. He thought of how that kid was always chosen last in gym and the cruel things he'd seen kids do to him. Suddenly he was coming back; he could here a voice but it sounded distant. As he slowly came back to reality, the voice grew nearer and nearer. He saw a face. It seemed somehow familiar. He studied it closer as it talked to him. The voice seemed somehow familiar too. Then all at once he thought he knew who it was. "Tony Heft, is that you?", he asked. "Blair Slinger?", replied Tony. "Yes, that's me, I remember you from way back in school!", exclaimed Blair. "You were the bully weren't you?", asked Tony. "Um, about all those things I did to you back then and all those times I picked on you, I'm sorr", said Blair sadly, but Tony interrupted him before he could finish. "You don't have to apologize. That's all in the past. Besides, I forgave you for that a long time ago. Here, come with me.", replied Tony. Tony helped him up. He followed Tony down the sidewalk, the buildings sliding by in the opposite direction. Soon they came to some steps leading to a door in the front of the building. Tony opened the door and they went inside. "You can stay with me.", explained Tony. "Thank you.", said Blair feeling awkward. He was taken completely by surprise. He never would have expected this, especially from the one person he'd hurt more the anyone else. He looked around him and quickly decided that this apartment was much more cozy than that cold, damp concrete. He was stunned by this kindness out of nowhere so he told Tony that he would be forever thankful. As time went by and they were around each other more and more, Tony and Blair became close friends. As they became the best of friends they realized how fate sometimes brings funny little twists, but Blair especially learned this from this most recent twist of fate that brought him a second chance. Go Back to Writing Hompage