The Story We Know
SaL
Chapter One: Reflections from a Park Bench
This morning when I woke up I was merely a boy. But sitting here tonight on this park bench I have come to the conclusion that somewhere between the ages of thirteen and eighteen I, unbeknownst to myself, became a young man. I spent the better part of my childhood looking forward to this day. I'd always dreamed of the possibilities manhood would bring; a good steady job, my own home, a beautiful girlfriend or maybe a wife, and perhaps even a family. It's funny how the one thing I'd always dreamed of becoming finally happens and here I am hating it; wishing I could return to my childhood days, build a wall around myself, and live my life just the way I always have without any interruptions. It's just… I don't want to be grown up! But as my father used to say, 'remember son, if you only look behind you'll never get ahead'. I never did understand what he meant until now, until this day. The story I'm about to relate to you is not one of love or death or suffering, though it may seem that way. Instead I'm going to tell you a story about life, living, and growing up. And it all started with a simple, sweet hello.
Now you must understand this before I begin. I've lived through difficult times and have had my share of hardships, that's how I ended up here in this hellhole of a lodging house. Don't get me wrong for an orphan boy on the streets this place is a sanctuary. The friends you make here will support you for life. That's just the way things are here and I've learned to live with it. But life isn't easy. The guys here, they don't understand how I feel, simply because they have no memory of their lives before this place like I do. I remember how at one time I had it all, a family, friends, a life. I don't pity them though, I'm glad for them because if they did remember, if they did understand what I feel, then there would be no hope. Sometimes I find myself envying the other boys, whishing I could forget too. Then again there are times when the only thing I want is to remember.
My father died when I was ten, the doctors said it was due to complications in his blood but I believe it was a broken heart. My mother had died only a few years earlier and her absence had taken its toll on dad. We got along just fine, the two of us; but dad could get real sad sometimes. Once, when I came home from school I found him sitting in our old musty attic. Just sitting there alone, with the curtains drawn and the lights out staring ahead at a large portrait of her, my mother. He claimed he could feel her presence sometimes like she was his guardian angel or something. People thought he was going mad and they tried to take me away from him.
My father died shortly after the custody trial. I think after loosing his wife and the threat of having me taken away was too much of a strain on him. I had found him one bright and sunny morning lying cold and lifeless in his room, I didn't want to believe it because just he looked like he was asleep. It was two days before a neighbor found me curled up beside him waiting for him to wake up. I stayed with my neighbor until the courts put me in an orphanage, and it is there that my story begins…
A/N: Well there it is people my first fic in months. I hope you enjoyed it so far!
My next chapter will reveal the identity of this newsie.