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Mattymo · 10-28-2008, 08:48 PM

December 20, 1910

As Francis lay awake late at night, for the first time he missed home. His mother's warm smile and home-cooked meals, his brother's giggling and pentience for mischief, the morning ballgames at the park, even school.

He remembered being faster and stronger than his schoolmates, always finishing first in a race or winning the wrestling match. They always begged him to join their teams but his father always said no. And Francis Timpson never did anything his father told him not to do.

Looking around his new apartment, all he saw was emptiness. No furniture, no people, nothing. Just darkness.

He got up and looked out the window at the park below. He half-expected to see people, but all he saw were remnants of a snow storm that had mostly melted due to a recent warm spell.

He lay back down on his mattress and thought about how he left home. About how he felt empty, about how this apartment symbolized who he was. About how his father discouraged everything he wanted to do, whether it be playing ball for the school team, finding a career that didn't include the military, or dating. He was always wrong for having fun. He always felt like a disappointment.

His thoughts then turned to Helen. How alive and independent she made him feel. How she was unlike any girl he had ever met. If she wanted something she went for it, never took no for an answer. She made him feel more capable than he had in his entire life.

Also on Francis' mind was the frustration of a mundane schedule everyday at work. Shovel the sidewalks at 6am, clean the windows, make the coffee, gather up mail, hand out mail, rince, repeat. He knew he was lucky to even have a job, especially since the money he brought with him was almost gone, but he knew he could do more. Growing up he was always one of the smarter kids in class, now he was doing mindless menial tasks.

Francis then thought of his mother. She encouraged him to leave after what happened, but he knew that it pained her to be without her oldest child. She had lost two children before Francis and always felt so blessed to have him. She was always so strong, and though she never finished school, she was so wise. How proud she was everytime he did anything, no matter how meaningless.

Francis then got out of bed and opened a book he had checked out at the library only a day earlier.

"It's time for me to learn about banking," he said to himself, lighting a candle.

10-28-2008, 08:48 PM	#4 (permalink)
Mattymo All Star Starter Join Date: May 2002 Location: Colchester, CT Posts: 1,424	December 20, 1910 As Francis lay awake late at night, for the first time he missed home. His mother's warm smile and home-cooked meals, his brother's giggling and pentience for mischief, the morning ballgames at the park, even school. He remembered being faster and stronger than his schoolmates, always finishing first in a race or winning the wrestling match. They always begged him to join their teams but his father always said no. And Francis Timpson never did anything his father told him not to do. Looking around his new apartment, all he saw was emptiness. No furniture, no people, nothing. Just darkness. He got up and looked out the window at the park below. He half-expected to see people, but all he saw were remnants of a snow storm that had mostly melted due to a recent warm spell. He lay back down on his mattress and thought about how he left home. About how he felt empty, about how this apartment symbolized who he was. About how his father discouraged everything he wanted to do, whether it be playing ball for the school team, finding a career that didn't include the military, or dating. He was always wrong for having fun. He always felt like a disappointment. His thoughts then turned to Helen. How alive and independent she made him feel. How she was unlike any girl he had ever met. If she wanted something she went for it, never took no for an answer. She made him feel more capable than he had in his entire life. Also on Francis' mind was the frustration of a mundane schedule everyday at work. Shovel the sidewalks at 6am, clean the windows, make the coffee, gather up mail, hand out mail, rince, repeat. He knew he was lucky to even have a job, especially since the money he brought with him was almost gone, but he knew he could do more. Growing up he was always one of the smarter kids in class, now he was doing mindless menial tasks. Francis then thought of his mother. She encouraged him to leave after what happened, but he knew that it pained her to be without her oldest child. She had lost two children before Francis and always felt so blessed to have him. She was always so strong, and though she never finished school, she was so wise. How proud she was everytime he did anything, no matter how meaningless. Francis then got out of bed and opened a book he had checked out at the library only a day earlier. "It's time for me to learn about banking," he said to himself, lighting a candle.