Two-thirds done! :D I can't believe I'm almost done. I hope to have more challenges up before long, as I am starting school before too long. So I won't be able to write very often, so here's hoping that I finish before then. *Raises glass*
Enjoy and review please!
Challenge 20: Rough Hands
Ernie sighed, his legs dangling off the edge of his chair in his room. Above his desk was his old hammer, sitting in a glass case. Untouched for years and untouched by time. He had long ago hung up his hammer and wrecking balls in the demolition business, retiring at a good age. He looked up at the towers and towers of bricks, almost every square inch of the apartment covered by each one. The only available space left was saved so he could still maneuver around the room. Each brick was like an old friend, a reminder of each successful demolition.
A memory rested in every brick. Every brick was good for Ernie since he no longer could remember most of them anymore. Age had robbed Ernie of his memories. He got out of the chair and circled the desk to the nearest brick tower, his eyes grazing over the stack of rock. His hands, rough from the years of building and destroying buildings, slid almost longingly over the plaques. Forever engraved with names he no longer knew. No name in the tower rang out to Ernie, none stood out to him.
He walked to the next tower, staring with intense concentration on each name he could see. He growled in frustration as his mind remained blank of each brick. Each was in his opinion a masterpiece, a canvas decorated with brilliant art. He knew that he had been the cause of these pieces of history, the dust and debris that would've remained of the old place afterwards was his signature.
His hands balled into fists and slammed into the middle of the stack, shaking the bricks. The brick he had hit broke and crumpled into dust at his feet, causing the entire tower to fall to the ground around Ernie. He covered his nose and mouth, not daring to breathe as the bricks knocked into more bricks, causing them to shake and fall as well as the original buildings they came from. He struggled to reach his bedroom, hoping to open a window to allow the growing cloud of suffocation to escape.
He reached the room while the continuous banging and crashing echoed around the apartment. He threw open his window, fresh air almost instantly relieving him of the debris. Coughing slightly, he cautiously inspected the room for damage.
The only bricks intact were at the bottom, and even those were broken by the shattered fragments of their counterparts above and around them. The floor was almost destroyed, and his desk was unrecognizable from the destruction. His hammer lay on the floor nearby. One of the bricks must have hit the case and caused it to shatter.
Ernie picked up the hammer, the weight of it familiar to him. He picked up a shattered remain of a brick, inspecting the piece. He didn't realize that he was on the verge of tears as he stared at the rough surface. He slowly closed his hand and crushed the remainder of the brick in his hand. He then raised the hammer over his head and smashed the remains of another brick.
He continued to demolish the rest of the bricks, crying silently with each new strike. They didn't matter anymore, since he didn't know what they were originally or where they came from. They only resembled his recollections now; broken, worn, and out of his grasp.
He stopped for a moment and analyzed the room. Now all the bricks were gone. There was only one thing left to demolish. So Ernie Potts raised the hammer one last time, and silence fell as the hammer and owner fell to the floor.