Not Much Left to Lose?

This fabulous picture was shared over at Thursday Tales as this weeks photo prompt, offered to those of us who write... to inspire.  To view it at it's original location and to see more by the artist, click here: http://veniamin.deviantart.com/art/Not-Much-Left-To-Lose-12304113.



Not Much Left to Lose
by Veniamin

To design our day's journey, one must contemplate all that has been, all that will be.  Where do we wish to find our destination?  The music helps, as I sit and fiddle with my instrument, watching the world pass by... as have the days of yesteryear. 

It was quite the day long ago, I was walking down by the shore, contemplating life as I do now.  Contemplating all that I had, the gold wristwatch, the gold chain around my neck... the black linen suit, white shirt, pressed to a tee.  All mementos of who I had become, all trinkets of my days of hard work.  Those were long days, leaving early in the morning before the sun came up and ending with me slinking in the door way past nightfall.  Those were lonely days too... 

Coming home to an empty space, furnished well, yet no one to laugh at my jokes.  No one to listen to my tales of success, beating out the next guy, selling one more than he had.  No one to share the long dark nights with.... Those were indeed lonely days.  No one to know I had been jumped there along the shore.

I laid there for what seemed an eternity... my skull cracked on the left side, blood pooling in the earth near the rock, my leg shattered from the bat they used to take my legs from under me.  The gold watch gone in an instant, the chain ripped from my neck, the linen pants torn where they snatched the wallet from my pocket.  Those trinkets had become a welcome sign to take the life from my lonely existence... with no one to know as I lay there along the shore...

The days now are full, as I sit and share the burdens of my journey with those who pass by.  Ellie comes searching when I don't come in by supper.  Never again shall I lay there along the shore... waiting to be discovered, waiting to be helped up when I have stumbled along the way.

She is such a beautiful woman.  Her hair tied back, those high cheek bones, the sensuous lips that speak so tenderly of all mankind.  Lost souls she calls them.  Those evil boys who ripped my soul to shreds, ripped the success of my days away as they swung the bat. 

Sometimes I wonder, did they have any idea?  Did they know what would come of me?  Or did they only see the gold watch, the gold chain, the trinkets of my success... the trinkets of my loss.  She reminds me when I call them that... my life-giving trinkets.  Days now are full of her, days forever shared by two hearts never to be left for dead again.

Yes, to design our day's journey, one must contemplate all that has been, all that will be. Where do we wish to find our destination? The music helps, as I sit and fiddle with my instrument, watching the world pass by...

The Sunday Scribblings prompt this week was Design...  Thinking design led me to the journey of life, which fit well into this brief tale, brief experience I was working on.    Hope you all enjoy this and are having a wonderful week.