Rest in Peace
Andrea Kelmore; January 31, 2008
The words of the Prince hit him hard. Andrea had laid on his bed and thought of those words over and over again."The Prince had said that there was a war going on." How blind he was to it all. For all the time he had been running never once had he looked at the world around him and seen its problems. He had only ever run from problems and conflicts - running was the only thing he knew that would keep him safe. So there he was, laying on the bed in his room, his bags packed in the corner. The door to his room shut so that if anyone were still awake they could not see what he had been doing. The sound of the street below played in the breeze that came from the open window. His bike was at the bottom of the fire escape, all prepared for him to go on his way and once again just fade into nothing - yet he did not move from the bed.
There on his bedside table was a note that he had tried to write so many times.
"Dear Brody, Whit, and Zack,"
For all the time he had begun this note, Andrea had never known the words to follow. For once there would be someone who would miss him; someone who his leaving would hurt. This was something he had never had to deal with. He had, for once, in his journey felt truly safe amongst people. A war was raging in him, the instinct to run away as he had always done against this new urge to stand and stay here.
Andrea pulled out his wallet and looked at a picture of the family he left on the West Coast. Everyone looked so fake, smiles plastered on there faces, masking their true selves from the photo. He looks at himself in the picture. It had been so hard for him to even smile then. He was so helpless - so small and fragile.
Andrea found a random picture that was taken of him during the time he has been in New York - unsure if this picture was taken by Whit or just somebody he had met on his many outing into the clubs and bars of the city. He stared at it for some time and then looked at the other photograph. He could not believe that the two pictures were of the same person. It was like looking at two different people. This new shot showed not a helpless boy full of sorrow and fear. This Andrea looked much older. There was no fear in his eyes. Instead there seemed to be almost an aura of confidence about him - a posture of relaxation and security. What Andrea was now fixed on was this "New York" him - the one that he had begun to grow into, the one that had a real smile on his face. He was not hiding anything behind it. This is what he was.
Andrea was at the river bank; in his hand is his old knapsack. He opened the sack and saw his old clothes inside, along with some of the things that he had kept since the first day he began running: a pouch of marbles; a hankerchief of his father's; and his wallet that now only held an old ID card and the picture of his old life. Andrea took one last look at the picture before he closed the sack and tied the top. He swung it around a bit to give it more speed, and then finally let it go. The sack soared out into the river and landed twenty-five to thirty feet out with a *Puloosh*. As it slowly got picked up by the current and started to sink into the murky depths, Andrea saluted it and said, "Rest in peace Andrea Kelmore. Your journey has finally ended."
He turned and went back to his bike which was parked fifteen feet away on the shoulder. Sometime later he climbed back into his window. As he was about to close it, he paused, staring out onto the dangers he had yet to face. "Goodnight city," he said in a whisper. "Tomorrow I begin my dealings with you and all that you will throw." With that he shut the window, pulled down the blinds, and closed the curtains. He grabed the blanket off his bed and headed to the dark living room, quietly laying down on the couch. He could hear the sounds of the others sleeping, and as Andrea himself closed his eyes, a new smile danced across his face. This was his new home and his new family, and this is what he had chosen.
You symbolically sever your ties to your family by wasting a perfectly good wallet/knapsack, and watch as it slides from sight.
Whatever awaits you is your own to deal with. You hope the change is more than metaphorical in the end. You hope you have the willpower to genuinely cut your ties with the past.
- Go to the Influence Archive Page