Before he even knew how to write his own name he knew he wanted to be a detective. He loved finding things and would help his mom and dad when they said they lost things. When he turned five his grandma bought him his own magnifying glass and special hat, so that he looked like this famous detective his dad told him about, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. He didn’t really know much about Mr. Sherlock but he did know he was a great detective. When he turned six his dad bought him his own fingerprint detecting kit with a real brush and special powder to find hidden fingerprints. It wasn’t until he turned eight that he realized he was missing something. He didn’t know exactly what, but he figured if he read enough detective stories he would be able to solve his own mystery. So he started reading and kept reading, always looking for that “thing” that would make him a true detective.
Well this continued throughout his adolescent years and even into his teenage years, even though he never shared this secret with anyone. He didn’t want people to know that he would be a famous detective someday, that would blow his cover. So for now, as a teen, he kept reading and continued to search for what he felt was missing from his dream. It wasn’t until the day of his high school graduation that he realized what he had been looking for all these years. It was his ticket to adulthood, his free pass to success, his voucher for a future; college.
Have you ever gone down to the basement to get something out of the chest freezer? Just a small snack. You pull the chain light and take one step back up to the first floor when all of a sudden fear explodes, you feel like you are being hunted, you run like hell up the stairs, hitting your shin on one tread, not caring because you are about to die! Then you get to the top of the stairs and turn to shut off the light. Breathing hard. Shaking a little, still. Looking for the ghost who spooked you. It could have been a serial killer! Who is to say you weren’t just taking your last snack? Trying to convince yourself you are alright. You were fine the whole time, right?
As she opened the door the smell of dust and sheetrock spread over her and in her. She knew it was not going to be done, the job was never done, was it? She just hoped that there would be enough completed to move back in. It wasn’t. She stood, open mouthed, taking in the mess, the broken walls, the debris, all there to make something more beautiful? Disgusted, she backed out into the hallway and shut the door. She would pretend none of this had happened. She would come back in one week and hope to see improvements. Hope.
As I headed home I could feel the icy shards, from the freezing rain, hitting the fragile skin on my bare face. I hoped my door would be open, or at least the doorman would still be working, as I forgot my key when I left earlier today. This would prove to be a very cold night, should I have to spend the evening on the streets, oh how I feel for the homeless in winter!