FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #5

                A boy with a parrot on his shoulder was walking along the railway tracks.  The boy was tall, lean, and slightly hunched in his walk.  The parrot, a bright red, neither spoke nor moved.  It merely blinked.

                The day was a misty, gray sort of day.  The white fog lovingly caressed the edges of the tracks, giving a snowy appearance to the ground, despite the cool April morning.  The air was silent, still, and slightly salty.  The taste of the nearby ocean was in the wind. 

                As the boy walked, he thought.  He was a solitary being, alone in his way of life.  His only companion was the parrot.  Even though the parrot never spoke, it was still a small comfort to have it on the boy’s shoulder.  Occasionally the parrot would nip him on the ear, begging for a small bit of attention.  The boy would slowly make his way from the deep wells of his thought and attend to the parrot, if only for a moment.  Then he would recess into the dark caverns of mindless pondering.

                Everyday, whether sun, sleet, snow, or rain, the boy would wander along the railway tracks with the parrot on his shoulder, never taking the same route twice.  He would wander and think, wander and think, until there was nothing he could find in the wells of his memory.  At this point, he would retreat to the comforts of sleep.  Thought could not be found in dreaming.

                This quiet way of life was all the boy knew.  He had retreated from the busy world of the cities and made his way across the land, always following the tracks.  He had no idea where he was or how long he had been walking.  All he knew was that each step took him farther down into the deep, dark wells of thought.  It was an effort just to put one foot in front of the other.  But there was always the comfort of the never changing railway tracks.

                Sure, some would be rusted, some bent, some twisted, some straight, and some completely overgrown with weeds.  But the tracks always led somewhere.  There was always light at the end of the tunnel, a way to be pulled from the darkness of reminiscence.  Tracks go on for miles, and they’re consistent.  Wood and metal – nothing else.

                As he wandered, so would the boy’s thoughts.  He would dwell on the past, the present, but most of all he would ponder the future.  All things decay in time – what would happen when there were no more tracks to follow?  Where would the boy and his parrot wander?  Would he be lost forever in the wells of his past?  Those would be dark days indeed.

                The boy walked, his eyes never leaving the tracks in front of him.  The misty white fog had completely enveloped the world.  White was a peaceful color.

                The parrot broke the eternal silence with a loud cry.  It flew from the boys shoulder into the white mist.  The boy glanced briefly at it before returning to the pools of reflection in his mind.  He barely noticed as the train hit him full force.  With one blink of the parrot’s eye, the boy was gone.

                Life is like a railway track.  There are bumps, turns, and new directions, but it is consistent.  At some point, you reach a destination, get off the train, and move on to a new set of tracks.  We all do.  And this is what the boy thought as he left the tracks of life for a new adventure. 

back to Contest #5