4 Numbers

[iDoBelieveInZombies]

So here's a little story I wrote.(:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mark stared aimlessly at the clouds making their way past the vibrant sun while his opaque thoughts drifted through his open mind. Mark is a 63-year-old professional photographer. He had everything that he wished for except for one thing. All of his tattered life, he was attracted to photography. He loved how he could capture life’s most precious moments on film and make them still. As he sat on the bench in the cities park, still staring without reason at the colorless clouds, he reached in his satchel and took out a raspberry filled pastry and un-wrapped it. Mark brought the delicate, flaky dessert two inches away from his nose and smelled it. He slowly closed his eyes as he took in the sweet, tart aroma, processed them and felt his mouth produce extra saliva. The photographer opened his eyes and sunk his teeth into the pastry and slowly chewed it. He swallowed his food and took another bite, stopping to lick the crumbs and raspberry filling from his lips, and continued. After he finished his treat, he pulled out an ASPCA water bottle to quench his thirst. Mark put his water back in his satchel and equipped his camera. His knees cracked as he stood up and he took a few steps away from the bench and looked around, camera at hand and ready to snap shots. As he looked around he saw parents playing with their children, dog's wrestling and digging in the dirt, young people having picnics, elderly couples walking through the cherry trees, hand in hand. Mark took a deep breath in, held it in for a few, and exhaled. He glanced down at his camera screen, clicked ‘Menu’ and changed the picture to black and white. He looked to his right and saw a little boy running towards a flock of pigeons rested on the concrete sidewalk. Mark waited until the boy startled the pigeons causing them to scatter. And there it was, truly a perfect picture. He chuckled to himself when he viewed the picture. It showed a black and white photo of a little boy, arms spread, laughing and running towards airborne birds with a few feathers that have fallen off some pigeons. Mark looked up at the boy and saw a strike of sadness followed by tears. Seeing the small boys’ tears brought a flood of memories back. He stood there glassy eyed, remembering his life 15 years ago when Julia, his high school sweetheart, was still beside him at the breakfast table, walking on the beach, and when he rested his head on his pillow late at night. He missed hearing her unsteady, but certain voice sing the ‘I love you’ melody. He shook his head and blinked his tiresome eyes multiple times as he came back to reality and headed his way back to his cozy home. As he took his second step to the door, he stopped, looked around, took a deep breath in and sighed. He bundled his coat up. The early spring nights were still a bit nippy. He walked up the final step and unlocked his door and felt a burst of warm air brush upon his exposed face. He got inside, took off and hung up his coat, took off his shoes and gripped the handrail of his stair case and walked them. He passed the room where his now adult children slept every night. Constantly crying for him and telling him that there are monsters in their room through cracked voices. Mark smiled as he walked into his room. He strolled to the master bathroom and shut the door. Minutes later Mark came out dressed in his pajamas, silk robe accompanied by his fuzzy slippers. He walked to his well made bed and took his robe and slippers off then slipped under his blankets. Mark took off his glasses and set them on his night stand and set his alarm for 6:00am sharp. Mark lay on his side too look at his and Julia’s still life pictures. He grabbed their wedding picture which showed their first dance and brought it up to his face so he could get a better look. During the time he admired the picture with his saddened eyes, he felt a small but sharp pain in the depths of his heart. He shook it off and continued looking at the best thing that has ever happened to him. And again, a sharp pain pulsed through his heart. He clutched the picture to his chest and let out an agonizing noise. Mark managed to say a few words aloud. The words “I’m coming, sweetheart” slithered passed his lips. Then he fell limp, sending the picture of their first dance sprawling towards the floor. When it hit the hard, unforgiving floor the glass cracked and shattered. The house was silent all throughout. Several hours passed and all that was heard was his alarm. Mark had died.