Sparkatale

Once upon a time there was a boy.

When he was young he drew a picture of his mom on white printing paper.

His teacher praised him,his mom hung it on the refrigerator,and his grandmother received a phone call.The grandmother told all of her friends at the retirement home.

The boy felt elated.

When he started middle school his English teacher gave him an assignment.

He was told to  write about his summer vacation.He wrote it on yellow pad paper.

His teacher gave him an A on the assignment.

The mother smiled at him,his grandmother was sent to the hospital,and the piece was sent into his portfolio.The boy felt glad.

At the beginning of high school he was given a task to write a short story based off of a famous person.He chose to write about Edgar Allan Poe.He Typed it one a word document,and printed it out on crisp white paper.

He was given a D- for not being original,his mom received a  phone call about the grade and scolded the boy.His grandmother never found out because she was dead.He felt enraged over his grade,and never found out that she had died.

For college he was given a task to write about something that mattered to him.He was failing the class was depressed.His mom was diagnosed with cancer.She soon died;the boy never found out about her death.

He wrote about the things that had happened to him in the past years;ideas swarmed his head left and right,he couldn't keep up with his own thoughts.He never turned the paper in because he didn't like the way it had come out.His roommate stayed out late that evening and so the boy went on a walk to ease his mind.

He saw a hobo on the side of the road.There was a knife-which had seen many years-and a marker.The hobo that lay on the side of the road was asleep.

He read the paper to the hobo in his slumber and then picked up the marker.

Onto his arm he wrote.

Nobody cares.No one bothers to help me and no one is around.

He took the knife off of the ground and carved a thin,yet deep line underneath the writing.Its mark ran across several scars,all healing at different rates.

He sat next to the hobo until he breathed his last labored breath.He felt at peace.