Mr. No One - Writers Forum

CrimsonFlame12_35 · 07-05-2007, 12:05 AM

I am thinking about rewriting this into a longer story if you think it is ok. So I want to hear your comments.

Mr. No One

He never knew his parents, because when he was very young they left him on the side of the road near a riverbed, in a quiet New York town. Even though he never learned to read or write, he was the wisest person you could ever meet. It was just that nobody would talk to him, or even go near him because of the way he looked. Everybody has there own opinion about people like this. Most people will avoid them any way they can. Other people will say that they feel bad for these people. “They shouldn’t have to live like that”. They say this as they drive past in their brand new car. They paid a few thousand extra so they could have speakers in the trunk.

This man doesn’t have a name; everybody just calls him Mr. No One. To them, this is all he really is, no one. He does what he can to get by. But, he has never stolen anything from anybody, and nobody ever gives him anything. He digs through dumpsters looking for any food he can find. He sleeps under an old oak tree that has been in that spot longer than the town itself. Often times, people will just pretend he is not even there. His heart is so strong; he does not have a bad thought about anybody for doing what they do. While others complain about their own life, he is just happy to be alive.

He seems to age twice as fast as everybody else. He looks like he is 120 years old. The winter time was coming and all he had to wear was, toeless shoes that were 3 sizes too small, pants that were torn all around, and a shirt he had since he was eleven. He had no food to eat and no place to go. He would just sit under that old oak tree, not bothering anybody.

The first freeze of the winter was coming. Mr. No One was already only living because of his will to, and will can only get you so far. Unfortunately it did not get him far enough. He was slowly dying from the cold and starvation. He had been seen by thousands of people thousands of times. He had been seen by little school children, doctors, policemen, I would not be entirely surprised if his own mother looked him in the eyes during that winter. Nobody did anything to help this man. He died under that old oak tree, where he had lived for so many years.

Not a single person cried, not a single person took a second out of their life to think of this man. If he could have been given the chance, he could have been somebody’s hero. But instead, people acted like he wasn’t even there. Now they don’t have to act, because it is now reality. There is one less person living on this earth now, one less person living in that quiet New York town.