Disclaimer: I own nothing
Chapter one: Train Ride
I almost didn't see him because I usually don't consider people who can't spell 'stupid' important. In fact I find them quite annoying so I guess it was 'fate' or 'destiny' that made me glance his way. Anyway I did and I'm afraid we changed each others lives.
This little brown haired kid wrapped his small fingers around the blue Crayon that had been tucked away in a brown and yellow box that read Denny's at the side. Then he began coloring the sky. He did this with an amount of concentration rarely found in a boy who was no higher than the average adults waist. This made him unique and it made you want to talk to this boy who should not be alone on a train. Yet he was and it was yet another thing to talk to him about. The train made a sudden jerk and everyone on the train let out a little yelp, that is everyone except the little boy. This child he did not look scared. If you had looked at him very closely when it happened you could see a change in his normally expressionless face. It was what a simpleton would call 'frustration' but it was more than that. Much more. It many feelings to count too many feelings than a little boy should have. The feelings that he let escape him through the place between his chin and his hair were ones some people live whole lives without experiencing. His nostrils flared, his brow wrinkled and he bit his lower lip. But those were all things people especially children do. They were important but they didn't compare to what his eyes told you.
Those eyes were watching eyes. They not only saw things but they remembered what they saw. His eyes were not prejudice. They could recall all kinds of people, good, bad. They remembered people who did not know they had changed the boys life because they did nothing when he cried or when he laughed ( which I imagine was seldom) or when he sighed. Those people his eyes told me he remembered the best.
So as I said those eyes told me the most. They told me this child lived a life of empty promises and he had a future that had once seemed bleak now seemed unpredictable. And to think he only made this expression because the train made him drop his crayon. Suddenly I had the urge to talk to this little boy whose eyes told me secrets. I wanted to tell him things so that his mouth told you something too. His lips would curl upward into an expression almost foreign to his face and he would let out a silly childish giggle. I had that I suppose 'maternal' feeling toward this child who I did not know.
I needed to get up. I wanted to get up.
I was going to get up
Right no-
The train came to a stop once again and the boy looked at his ticket closely as that would magically make the figures that we call letters make sense to a boy who looked too young to know how to read. Then grabbing his bag that occupied the seat next to him he slipped off the seat and walked quickly away.
He had forgotten his picture.
I should have called after him and gave it to him but me being human was curious of what this boy had drawn.
I allowed myself to smile when I saw it. It was certainly not what I expected. Then again I don't know what I expected. The meaning of life? What he drew was me. He had seen me watching, observing him. I was sitting on the grass in the clothes I had on now but instead of the annoyed look I had before I had really seen this little boy I had a smile and next to me was him, and he wore a smile.
At the very bottom almost unnoticeable was
Jess
I finally looked up and I glanced to my left out of the window and spotted him for once again a split second. He was now accompanied by a man with a backwards hat and a nervous look who held out his hand as if he expected a boy who appeared no older than 5 to shake it.
And the train began to move again.
A/N: I'm thinking I might stick to this story. Like at least 7 chapters A little encouragement is nice and constructive criticism is greatly appreciate
Chapter one: Train Ride
I almost didn't see him because I usually don't consider people who can't spell 'stupid' important. In fact I find them quite annoying so I guess it was 'fate' or 'destiny' that made me glance his way. Anyway I did and I'm afraid we changed each others lives.
This little brown haired kid wrapped his small fingers around the blue Crayon that had been tucked away in a brown and yellow box that read Denny's at the side. Then he began coloring the sky. He did this with an amount of concentration rarely found in a boy who was no higher than the average adults waist. This made him unique and it made you want to talk to this boy who should not be alone on a train. Yet he was and it was yet another thing to talk to him about. The train made a sudden jerk and everyone on the train let out a little yelp, that is everyone except the little boy. This child he did not look scared. If you had looked at him very closely when it happened you could see a change in his normally expressionless face. It was what a simpleton would call 'frustration' but it was more than that. Much more. It many feelings to count too many feelings than a little boy should have. The feelings that he let escape him through the place between his chin and his hair were ones some people live whole lives without experiencing. His nostrils flared, his brow wrinkled and he bit his lower lip. But those were all things people especially children do. They were important but they didn't compare to what his eyes told you.
Those eyes were watching eyes. They not only saw things but they remembered what they saw. His eyes were not prejudice. They could recall all kinds of people, good, bad. They remembered people who did not know they had changed the boys life because they did nothing when he cried or when he laughed ( which I imagine was seldom) or when he sighed. Those people his eyes told me he remembered the best.
So as I said those eyes told me the most. They told me this child lived a life of empty promises and he had a future that had once seemed bleak now seemed unpredictable. And to think he only made this expression because the train made him drop his crayon. Suddenly I had the urge to talk to this little boy whose eyes told me secrets. I wanted to tell him things so that his mouth told you something too. His lips would curl upward into an expression almost foreign to his face and he would let out a silly childish giggle. I had that I suppose 'maternal' feeling toward this child who I did not know.
I needed to get up. I wanted to get up.
I was going to get up
Right no-
The train came to a stop once again and the boy looked at his ticket closely as that would magically make the figures that we call letters make sense to a boy who looked too young to know how to read. Then grabbing his bag that occupied the seat next to him he slipped off the seat and walked quickly away.
He had forgotten his picture.
I should have called after him and gave it to him but me being human was curious of what this boy had drawn.
I allowed myself to smile when I saw it. It was certainly not what I expected. Then again I don't know what I expected. The meaning of life? What he drew was me. He had seen me watching, observing him. I was sitting on the grass in the clothes I had on now but instead of the annoyed look I had before I had really seen this little boy I had a smile and next to me was him, and he wore a smile.
At the very bottom almost unnoticeable was
Jess
I finally looked up and I glanced to my left out of the window and spotted him for once again a split second. He was now accompanied by a man with a backwards hat and a nervous look who held out his hand as if he expected a boy who appeared no older than 5 to shake it.
And the train began to move again.
A/N: I'm thinking I might stick to this story. Like at least 7 chapters A little encouragement is nice and constructive criticism is greatly appreciate