"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."
Arthur stepped past the gates to the cemetery, leaving it now that his instructor's funeral was done. There was little point in staying and dwelling on the matter over the fresh soil. He had plenty of time to think on his walk home. Sure, it may be a mile or two between him and his destination but he had to walk it nonetheless. It was either pay for bus fare or use the money for food. He felt he made the right choice.
His memory recalled his father's own death. We didn't have the funds to afford a funeral for his father. Hell, We didn't even have enough money to get him cremated. In the end there was little said over his passing, just a toe tag and a spot in a shiny metal box alongside a bunch of other corpses. In the end the thought had long past the mortician's mind after the task was done. I would be the only one to remember father's life for whatever impact it may have had on me.
And what of me? He began to turn his philosophizing onto himself. In the end my father's life will fade from everyone's memories as all trivial memories do, lasting only in mine. When the day comes for me to die there will be little to no evidence that he even existed and even less to distinguish him from any other shmoe. What impact will his life have had once I'm gone? Hell, what impact will MY life have even? For all the crap I've given him at least he managed to hook up with a girl and have a child. When I die, if someone burns my wallet there will have been no meaning to my existence. To be erased from existence... I don't think there is a more literal form of death than that.
My instructor, now he had something going. He spread his knowledge of combat to his students and now they all show to his funeral, to commemorate the lasting impact he's had on their lives. They will probably remember this event their whole lives. They might even tell their kids, spreading the memory down to them. The memories of their fathers would be more trivial information however. Soon they'd forget the tale of their father's teacher and when their father's die that knowledge will be lost. No matter how far down the chain these memories travel, theres always a terminus, a final destination, an ending. Even when the story ends there might even be writing somewhere, telling the story from beginning to end. But I must ask: Who would read the tale of some guy who ran a martial arts club in some suburban neighborhood in Heavenrend? It's not like the tales of old, of great teachers imparting wisdom and knowledge onto the people who would go on to change the destiny of entire kingdoms. These people would most likely go on to settle down, get mundane jobs and-
Arthur's train of thought was interrupted when a bus drove by, splashing a small puddle up which sprayed a bit onto him. "Goddamnit!" He shouted, mainly out of surprise. Looking at the number on the bus he saw that it was on the route to the bus stop right by his home. "Well, isn't that just perfect." He griped. He knew the world didn't have thoughts or preferences but if it did he was certain it would have a sick sense of humor. Standing there, soaked in fetid water he sighed and shrugged. To top it all off he lost his train of thought. What the was I even thinking about again? Eh, it doesn't matter. Not like I'm narrating to an audience or anything.
A short walk later
As he walked he saw the old pizza shop he spent most of his dinners at. All the windows were boarded up, the signs all taken down. There was little doubt that this place was shut down for good. He had heard that the business simply couldn't afford the upkeep due to the fact that all of it's clients were families that lived in the neighborhood. All the parents that used to go there have retired now and the children are leaving for colleges and universities. The fate of this old building now laid in the hands of the city. Seeing as no one else has bought the space yet it was quite likely they'd just bulldoze the property to have a space someone else could build over.
This all brought about the sense of entropy to Arthur's current stew of despair. No matter how great Arthur's desire to appear strong might of been, simply staring at the hollow phantom of a childhood now past worked it's way through the jaded shell around his heart. Tears started to well up at the corners of his eyes, his teeth grit in anger towards this weakness he was showing. With his fists balled up he took a single step. After a pause he took another, then another, then another. His slow gait halted only when was within arms length of the building. In a bout of existential rage he punched the worn out dull red bricks that made up the side of the old pizzaria. His voice was now leaking out in the form of a loud mixture of crying and growling. Why!? Why must I be so weak!? I am accustomed to misery, I shouldn't feel this way. I am in control of this body, not my damn emotions! Pull yourself together Arthur! Snap out of it!
Despite how much he wanted to let this go he was in the grips of a powerful sorrow. Having lost the last person he ever talked to without any sense of hostility he had no one and nothing to turn towards to seek comfort. Seeing this place made him yearn for the beautiful nostalgia that, even as miserable a childhood as it might of been, still held an almost honey toned glaze that he wished to feel once more. No matter how hard he tried to though his youth was long gone. Time had destroyed everything which held any kind of memory, good or bad, in a much faster time than he could brace for. Underneath that cold, hateful gaze of his was a humble plea to return to a time where life simply wasn't so bad. He could only dream of returning to the days of a child when his only worries were of the immediate. Back then there was still his whole life ahead of him, still yet to be decided. His fate seemed so opened ended, like anything was possible, only time being privy to the destination he was bound for. Had he known that this was the life he was destined to live back then suicide would of been an attractive option. He might of been a child but his mind was always dark like that.
Shutting his eyes caused the tears to squeeze out around the point of joining between his eyelids. He started to breath rhythmically, only able to take fast shallow breaths at first. Slowly his breaths grew deeper and slower as he went until he finally capped the well of emotions which had sprung open. His face felt crusty with tears and his face was flush. He finally opened his hands and unclenched his teeth, both of which hurt from the intensity with which they were held. Finally his eyes opened, red and irritated looking from the tears his heart forced them to shed. With a heavy sigh he stepped out from the alley beside the old remnant and proceeded down the sidewalk, still hunched over as though he were carrying a cumbersome burden.
When he finally arrived back at the dojo he came witness to a familiar surprise, the familiarity of which had only making it more surprising. On the door was a notice from the city stating that the dojo, having no legal heir to inherit it, was to be handed back to the city. When he tried to open the door it was locked. He produced his key to the building before seeing that someone had placed an additional lock over the previous lock to prevent him from coming inside. "Oh this is bullshit! I still live here! why'd they go and put a lock on the door!? My stuff's still in there!" He shouted at the door in his outrage. Seeing as how the city locked him out of his own house, a house that was never technically his own to begin with mind you, he had to resort to more drastic means of entry.
He threw a heavy kick at the door. It shuddered with a resounding thud but showed no sign of yielding. The door was made of metal and though it was old it was hefty enough. He gave it kick after kick but relented before too long. He knew well enough that he'd probably end up summoning the police due to the racket before he'd see any results from his effort. Looking around for other entrances he remembered the tree which grew pretty close to his window. There was a limb that reached out very close to his window. Sometimes he had to trim that limb so that it didn't start growing through the window and into his room. Theoretically he could climb into his room is the branch could support the weight. Unfortunately for him, he never tested this theory before. "I can't believe I'm stuck with resorting to this."
He reached up, grabbing a purchase for him to haul himself up with. The rough bark on the tree was digging into his flesh as he pulled. Though painful as it was he managed to pull himself onto a lower branch. The branch was too small for him to sit on without breaking it, only really providing enough strength to serve as a foothold. There was going to be little rest for him until he reached his room, that much was certain.
His arms were well scored by the time he finally made it onto the harrying limb itself. All that was left was to climb from the tree, along the branch and into the window. Though the task itself was not difficult, at the height he had climbed to falling had a significant potential to be fatal. Making his way across he was cautious of his balance as though his life depended on it which it very much did. Much to his benefit the branch held his weight for quite a distance. As he was arms reach away from the window however...
Snap!
The branch gave out as he neared it's tip. Arthur felt his whole weight disappear right out from underneath him in an instant. With his life on the line and adrenaline in his blood he shot both hands out to grab onto the window sill. His dexterity proved useful that day as he slammed against the side of the dojo, his fingernails digging into the wood just before the glass panels. At this point his harrowing journey had transformed into a desperate struggle. At this point his musings at death had become very real and very immediate fears.
"Damnit! Cant... Die... Here!" He focused not on the pain across his skin nor the pain at the ends of his fingers but on his own anger. He inflamed his own self hatred to a point where the pain became less real than before. "Pain... Is temporary!" It's his favorite saying in general, especially for times when he needs to do something he really doesn't look forward to doing. In this case he pulled with all his might, lifting himself up to chin level with the window by his own fingers. Lucky for him the way the window was designed with the wooden frame of the window itself peaking out past the glass a little bit. He was able to rub his head against the window in a motion which inched the window high enough for him to fit his hands through. In two big pushes he put one hand through and then the other. Now he was actually holding onto something with his hands instead of just his finger tips. The window really could of used a bigger window sill.
Now more secure in his grip Arthur braced against the wall with his feet and pushed himself up a bit. With this he had a lot more leverage to work with. He let go with one hand, holding himself firm with the other and lifted up the window until the space was large enough to fit through. He brought his head in first, then his shoulders, then the rest of his body just sort of slid in after that. With nothing blocking it anymore the window slammed shut behind him. He was too tired to care about that right now though. Having fought through the strife brought upon by his less than stellar estimate as to the limb's structural integrity he took a well earned break. All he did for several minutes was just lay on the floor remarshalling his strength. As he heaved through exhausted breath he brought his hands up to his face so he could see them. Even though he was naturally more resilient to pain than most his arms hurt quite a bit, stinging especially at the ends of his fingers.
"Ow." He moaned, examining the various nicks and bruises his arms endured. Not a lot of bruising but plenty of scratches, not really anything more than superficial surface scrapes. His fingernails were a bit worn, bits of wood underneath them. His body was a bit filthy, covered in bits of bark and other excess plant matter. He even had a patch of sticky sap stuck onto the inner thigh of his pants. He flexed his fingers to get blood pumping into the ends a bit more. After five or so minutes of laying on the not so clean floor he got up. He brushed a lot of the less adhesive stuff off him before looking about for stuff he wants to take with him.
He got out a luggage bag and started putting his extra clothes into it. He managed to acquire the bag by taking it from the luggage claiming area and walking out of the airport with it. It was just his poor luck that all the clothes that were inside it happened to belong to a lady about twelve sizes smaller than him in most categories who was interested mostly in sultry dresses and high heeled shoes as the contents of the bag soon revealed to him.
He didn't really fill the bag up too much. He only owned about five sets of clothes, the rest of the space being occupied by a pillow in a hardy cut-proof pillow case for outdoor use and of course his laptop along with it's various accessories. Wires were wrapped around the device inside the bag like the snakes wrapped around the Medusa's head. With all his stuff packed he head downstairs and towards the back door.
Oh, the back door wasn't locked...
The string of profanities that ensued could fill an entire dictionary dedicated to rude words and phrases. He shouted his anger to the heavens and started stomping around hitting things while still swearing like a humorless one eyed carpenter who just hit his thumb with a hammer. He was lucky he didn't hurt his fists with how he was flailing about with them. His hand's pain now paled in comparison to the burning anger he felt from having been so stupid as to have not checked the back door before resorting to such a risky and exhausting entrance. With the door having been unlocked this whole time it was evidence that all that strife he put himself through was for nothing.
Eventually he just stormed from the building out the back door, his stuff tidily zipped into his bag in tow. He made his way out to the sidewalk and proceeded onwards, still fuming about how his efforts were meaningless.
Some time later
He had been walking for quite a while. Where was he going? Not even he knew. Just what am I even going to do? I don't have a job and now I don't even have a home. I've just enough change to eat for today, that's it. Where am I even going? Maybe I'll look around, see what I can do. It's not like I have anything better to do now. He dragged himself along the sidewalk looking dirty and tired like the disheveled hobo he had become. It was then he saw it to his right. The school, a place for kids to go and become the scum which occupy the buildings all around him, happily turning in place like the cogs they are. He had graduated from that school just a couple years ago, much to his professors surprise. It's not that he wasn't smart or educated, it's just that now and days there simply wasn't many jobs available. He had a high school diploma but there were plenty of people with those clogging the system. When he went to apply for a job at the local fast food chain the line of people also applying continued out past the door down the sidewalk.
This place was a great source of misery from him. Absolutely no one liked him and he liked everyone even less. The other punks tried bullying him physically the first year he was there. It was then he earned a reputation of being tough like iron with a talent for hurting others. No one really tried to hurt him after that but despite the physical advantage he had people still didn't respect him in any way. He knew exactly why too. He was different and not the good kind of different. He was not crazy in any of the fun or interesting ways a person could be crazy. He was disturbed to some extent, unstable some might say. There was nothing fun about it either, it was just awkward at best.
He looked down to find a broken piece of cement which had freed itself from the rest of the sidewalk. Finally a turn of luck. his mind turned to mischievous intent. He grabbed the hunk of rock and slowly strode towards the building. Had the poster on the billboard not caught his eye he might of caused some real damage to one of the windows.
LOOKING FOR JANITOR, Those interested call 1-677-6767 for details The printed sheet stapled to the board read. An opportunity had just presented itself, not an ideal one for sure. Not even in the slightest sense was it ideal but money was money and it was what he needed more than anything else right now.
It was decided, he was going to call and apply for the job! Just as soon as he found a phone first. He casually just tossed the rock aside as he started to walk away when all of a sudden...
Tonk!
The abrupt noise of the rock he was just carrying hitting the side of the building caused him to jump back. Shit! He swore internally as he realized what he had done. If they saw me throw a rock at the building I'll get to wave this job opportunity goodbye! He looked around to see if anyone saw him. There was no one outside, that was good, but there were some kids in the room inside that might of seen him through the window. Like a cheetah he sprung forward, dashing out of view of the window to the side of the building where he couldn't be seen from inside the room. He looked out across the open space he came from to plan a route for his escape.
Just how bad could my day possibly get from here!?... I know I'll regret this thought somehow.
