Angel's story.

This is the story I'm writing for a friend. He's going throug ha hard time right now, and I can't do much for him. I really wish I could, though.

Comments, advice, or opinions are welcome here. Say whatever you'd like to.

No title. (yet)

Dedicated to a friend and his family. I’m with you till the end.

Once upon a time, there was a boy. No, wait, scratch that. Once upon a time, there was a man. And this man had a family that he cared greatly for. He even had a good life. Well, until he hit a rough patch. (You know, that thing everyone obtains some point in their life that causes complete chaos and emotional crises?) This rough patch may have been different than others, or he may have been in the same boat as another unfortunate soul, but no matter what it was, it was still painful to go through. His name was Bobby. Bobby Brunswick.

Bobby awoke one morning feeling refreshed. He stretched and rubbed his eyes like he didn’t have a care in the world. Too bad that was just an act. On the inside, he was slowly being devoured by the knowledge that his family was being torn apart, piece by piece, until nothing was left. This haunted Bobby, but he tried to brush the feelings of dread and worry aside as he left for another glorious day at the school he had come to know and love.

The images of Bobby’s fearful siblings silently crying ran through his mind a few times as he slowly made his way onto the big, yellow bus. A light rain had started at the exact moment he had woken up that morning, and this not only dampened the chalk covered sidewalk, but it also drove a hole in Bobby’s chest. His heart ached as some of his fellow classmates gave him high fives and playfully hit him on the shoulder, but that couldn’t keep a smile off his face. Nothing ever did.

I can do this. Bobby kept repeating the statement over and over in his mind, trying to convince himself that it had meaning. That it was true. When he found the remnants of what little courage was buried in his being, he dug them up out of the hard, cracked soil and rubbed them clean. He was going to take a big step and tell his homeroom class what was going on in his life, not only because they were his friends and deserved to know, but because they were his family. Families care for each other and support one another. And he needed all the support he could get.

So, word by word, Bobby told his tale. Not a tale of knights in shining armor or a myth about how there’s a man on the moon, but a real story. And this story just so happened to be the exact story that was taking place that very second in a house not too far away. The place where a man stood, fretting over numerous things, the worry lines carved into his face.

Drip. Drip drip. Sniffle. Another drip, another sniffle, a thousand tears shed, and a million to go. “So, that’s it,” Bobby said softly. All was quiet. He was standing in front of his classmates, looking down at the spotted tile floor. He couldn’t look up at all those teary eyes watching him. Not without crying himself. “G-group hug,” Mrs. Beautiful choked out between gasps of cold air. All the faces red with sorrow simultaneously stood and made their way over to their friend, smothering him in one big hug. A chorus of meaningful words broke loose as soon as Bobby was released. “Thank you, I love you guys,” was what Bobby responded with, his eyes glowing with love for every soul in the room. “Thank you so much.” “Now time for a plan,” Mrs. Beautiful said, having gained her composure a little.

“The Melting Pot,” Nuisance said. Mrs. Beautiful’s jaw dropped. “The Melting Pot,” she repeated. “That’s perfect! Nuisance, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re a genius!” “I am?” Nuisance asked, clearly cheerful that Mrs. Beautiful had acknowledged her. “Yes, that’s it! The theme for the dance will have something to do with The Melting Pot!” Mrs. Beautiful exclaimed.