Author's Note: This is a one shot that, seriously, just came out of nowhere. I was listening to a song today (and I won't tell you which one because then you'll all laugh at me) and one of the lyrics was: "nothing but ashes remain". I really liked it and it got me to thinking about how, at the end of life, all that's truly left will be ashes – dust in the wind, if it where. Thus, Embers was born.
Disclaimer: Both Mush and Skittery are characters designed by Disney for their 1992 musical, Newsies. I borrowed them for the brief idea of getting my own philosophy of why, exactly, life is like a cigarette across.
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Embers
Nothing but ashes remain
(one shot)
Skittery explains the meaning of life to Mush using the only thing he can: a cigarette
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"Sometimes I think that life is just like a smoke begging to be lit," he said, illustrating his point by drawing a newly rolled, if somewhat creased, cigarette from his back pocket. Using a newsprint stained hand, he tried to straighten it out but all he succeeded in doing was letting loose tobacco fall the length of the two steps before it hit the dirt floor outside of the lodging house. He ignored the mess and continued on with his lesson; the olive skinned boy he was addressing seemed interested in this new philosophy.
"You see, Mush, the paper here represents that which our mothers used to cover our asses when we were babies," he said, running a rough finger down the course of the cigarette. "Then, when we get older, we just throw away that paper but never really forget it, right? Because, no matter how fast we are forced to grow up out on these streets, we still are kids on the inside."
His normally befuddled and confused face broke out into a genuine grin. Sitting one step below the older boy, Mush slapped his knee in agreement. "I hear that, Skittery," he said, interrupting before the annoyed expression on his companion's face caused him to look abashed. "Sorry."
Skittery ignored the apology and continued. "Anyway, after you get old enough to go without your paper of a diaper, you use that rag to contain all of your belongings," he said and looked to see that Mush was following his logic – he was nodding. All of the newsies, orphan or runaway, had, at one time, their own stash which could be tossed in a piece of cloth and tied up in order to escape a given situation at any given moment. Skittery's analogy was, so far, making sense. "See this tobacco?" he asked, pointing a dirty fingernail at the tip of the cigarette. He tapped it slightly and some more of the loose shag fell, drifting downward. Mush nodded.
"Well, the way I figure it, this tobacco here is everything we got in this world. It's all of our stuff, all of our emotions, all of our memories – hell, it can even stand for all the bullshit that we put up with in this life. You just keep adding it all to that paper we've held onto and then, when we get to that point when we got all we'll ever get, we roll it up. We protect our tobacco. It's ours, we've worked hard to get it. Once it's sealed tight, no one will be able to lay their dirty paws on it."
Mush's dark eyes followed the bob of the cigarette. Skittery held it between his thumb and his forefinger and, while that hand was placed on his bouncing knee, the cigarette moved with the same rhythm. It was taking all of his concentration to follow Skittery's logic and, even then, he wasn't sure he understood it quite. But he nodded anyway. If the older boy assumed that Mush was not fully paying attention to his explanations then he would just go back inside the lodging house and Mush would never know exactly why a life was like a cigarette.
"Now, once we got everything stowed away, wrapped up tight like this smoke here, that's when we can try to enjoy it. Life, that is. And how do we do that, eh, Mush?" Skittery lowered his gaze and looked down at Mush.
Mush shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, Skitts. How?"
Skittery sighed and wondered if his conversation wasn't being wasted on Mush. But, then again, after he tried to explain to Blink why his patch symbolized his own insecurities and that it had nothing to do with a bum eye, the only one left in the lodging house who would listen to his theories was Mush. And what good was it having a theory if no one would listen?
He reached for the matches that lay beside him on his step. "Just like we enjoy a cigarette," Skittery answered and he struck the match. For a moment the two boys stared at the flickering dance of the flame before Skittery placed the cigarette in his mouth and brought the lit match to the cigarette's end. He breathed in deeply and watched as the tobacco caught fire, burning it to a fiery red. He inhaled and exhaled, the smoke escaping his mouth and fading with the morning breeze. "When we are all grown, or, at least, think we are grown, something will happen. I ain't saying what cause it could be anything. We could strike it rich, find a good girl and get married, anything. That's when the smoke gets lit, you see. That's when we start to enjoy ourselves."
Mush nodded slowly. "I think I'm getting it, Skitts…"
"Good." Skittery continued to take drag after drag on the cigarette. When it was about half done, he continued in his narration. "Now, life don't stop once the smoke has been lit, Mush. You gotta remember that. In fact, I think that's just about when you know it's almost over. The damn cigarette that took you so long to make, it burns down so fast." He took another drag of the cigarette and flicked the excess ash onto his step, rather than letting it fall down to the dirt floor, one step below Mush.
Mush watched as the pile of ashes grew and the length of the cigarette diminished. "So, you're saying that we work and work during our life and, just when we get to enjoy it, it goes as fast it takes to smoke a cigarette?" he asked, taking his eyes off of the step and focusing on the serious expression on Skittery's face.
Skittery ashed the cigarette again before glancing down and meeting Mush's gaze. "That's about right. Or, at least, that's the way I figure it," he said before pausing to finish the rest of his cigarette.
Mush nodded his understanding, surprised that he even did understand the point that Skittery was trying to make. But there was one question he had before he could be sure that every thing made sense to him. "What happens, then, when the cigarette has all been smoked?"
Skittery looked thoughtfully at Mush before taking his last drag of the cigarette. Next to the considerable pile of ash he had created, he stubbed the end of the cigarette out. When the last of the flame had been extinguished, and the dying embers of the tip had cooled from red to black, Skittery let out the last lungful of smoke. "Nothing but ashes remain," he said cryptically before bending over and blowing on the cigarette ash, sending it into the wind.
And Mush, while watching the remains of a theoretical life scatter among the wind, wondered if he really did understand the point Skittery was trying to make after all.