Rope

I've been doing this sort of thing for a while, and as the years have gone by, I've saved a lot of notebooks and folders, all of them stuffed into desk drawers and cardboard boxes. On rare occasions, I'll revisit a high school story that the passing of time has yet to deem garbage. As proof, here's one I wrote in 1998, when I was 15. I suppose it had a certain "Shawshank for Dummies" sensibility.

###

“Aw, man. You gotta get me a rope, Wilson. Please, I'm beggin' you!” Anderson pleaded.

“So you can hang yourself?” Wilson, an aging and wise black man answered. “I don't think I can accommodate that wish.”

The two were taking a stroll through the yard that cloudy March afternoon. Wilson had to hold his mouth shut tightly to keep from chattering his teeth. Still, he treasured every moment of it. Being outdoors was quite liberating for a man who had spent 40 years incarcerated.

“Na, it ain't like that. I just...” his explanation was cut off.

“Life is the most precious gift on God's green earth, my boy,” Wilson remarked as he gazed at the gravel. “Can you imagine what would happen if you were to die tomorrow? Or better yet, what if you'd never been born?”

“You got it all wrong. I...” 

Anderson was interrupted again.

“What you in for?”

Anderson was reluctant but he soon answered.

“Well, for starters, I stole an old lady's car. Pushed her down and busted her hip. Then I crashed into a redwood tree in a drunken frenzy.”

Wilson snickered.

“Now, if you was never born, how do you think that same old lady would feel about... Augh, hell, that's a bad example. What else did you do?”

“Let's see. I killed my boss. Slit his belly wide open, I did.”

The youngster laughed happily.

Wilson wore a confused look on his wrinkled face.

“Was he a nice guy?”

“Aw, hell no. Meanest sumbitch I ever did see.”

“Well, that's a start,” Wilson replied hopefully.

“Then there was that time I slept with your wife and you never found out,” the dimwitted Anderson blurted.

Wilson kept focus on the ground with clenched fists.

“Well, there's somethin' good you did. Sleepin' 'round with my wife and all...” he kept pace for a minute clenching his teeth. “You still want that rope?”

“Actually, yeah.”

“You just don't get it, you sorry sack of...”

“No,” Anderson snapped. “You don't get it! I need the rope to tie to bars of soap. For showers. I've heard some nasty stories.”

“Oh, Wilson said very slowly. “Yeah. That can be arranged.”