I decided to start writing not long ago. I'm looking for all the constructive criticism I can get. My first attempt is a little short and lacking detail. What else is its downfall? I appreciate your time, thank you.
Michael saw him from across the street, as usual rambling on. About what, he had no idea. Even though he passed by every day he always crossed the street a few blocks earlier. He was now entering a gloomy part of town, the slums, here his journey home reached the final stretch. He was a very shy, socially awkward fellow and the movements of the old drunkard made his asthma act up. Plus he had not had a drink of his own yet.
Today was no different than any of the others of late; the clouds were hiding the sun blanketing the town in near darkness which only increased his fear. Adding to the fact he was quite anxious today. It had not gone very well at work; he had lost his job due to his fumbling on the truth, causing his boss to loss trust in him. He had to stop having a glass with breakfast, it was ruining his life.
He drew near and his eyes were fixed on the old man, try as he might he could not look away. Getting closer did not reassure him much. Even though the drunks back was towards Michael and could not see him nervously trying to reach for his mace. He had no intention of using it; he could never muster up the confidence. Although now was not the time to test his nerves, he was feeling quite edgy.
The previous two blocks Michael had walked time seemed to slow down. He was now drawing nearer and the pace recovered, seemed to speed and hurry along. It was as if the old drunk was able to sense his presence as he approached. Quite briskly the drunk turned and ran across the street. Michael froze and shut his eyes, tension in his body rising. Nothing happened. Once his body had relaxed he opened his eyes too see the drunk staring at him. His hand was out, offering Michael a drink.
“You felt that my good sir?” said the drunk with a joyous British accent, that in no way sounded sober. “I’m not here to harm you; I’m here so you can prosper. Show you how to live without being an imposter.” Michael, standing stunned, after a few seconds was able to mutter out “Whh-what.” Withdrawing the bottle and never breaking rhyme the drunk continued. “The secret is to be adverse, we all live within a multiverse. By your hand you shall inflict the worst; then you’ll rot ‘til you’re still, waiting for a hearse. You’ll wake up to challenge the universe.”
Michael immediately made the link with suicide. “By your hand you shall inflict the worst.” Suicide was on his mind lately. He was done with making mistakes, loosing his job today had almost sealed the deal, now this. How did this drunk seem to know so much? How could Michael prosper? He was thinking when he just happened to notice the drunk looking, leering at him, still rambling on in rhyme. The gaze gave him the impression that the man was reading his thoughts. “What do you want?” Michael blurted out with his best tough guy voice.
“It’s easy to see you’d like a second chance, you know now the moves t’would be a different dance.” He knew a second chance was not possible and the drunks rhyming had become almost unbearable, “Stop!” screamed Michael. Like a deer caught in the headlights the drunk stopped. “Please, no more rhymes. You have no idea what you are talking about.” The drunk replied, “I see the future.” And almost instantly the joy seemed to fade from his face, looking down and in between mumbles Michael could hear bits of sentences “…to kill yourself, …would make it easier, and …could be happier.”
He was now hurrying along, it had only helped in making him more depressed. Out of breath he was almost home. The run had helped him clear his mind. It was happening tonight, he could no longer handle it. His house was in sight. He ran and burst through the front door. Even before taking time for air he was gone, to his bedroom and skipped the glass. He was drinking right from his bottle of whiskey.
“I don’t have a gun and pills are a little womanly, don’t have any of those either anyway.” he was trying to think of a way. “I guess I could hang myself , but the ceilings aren’t high enough. I would have to jump off the roof.” After going through many scenarios in his mind, Michael decided exsanguination. He would sit on his balcony and cut his femoral arteries. He went out back, picking up another bottle on the way. He would finish the bottles before drifting away.
He scribbled out what would be a note, he knew no one would care about it though. He was already bleeding out, he had cut his thighs before he began writing in hopes he would be gone shortly. He finished his last sip of whiskey and closed his eyes so he could slowly fade away.
Michael awoke from what seemed like falling in a dream, the bus was at the office. He could see his boss approaching. He looked down at his watch, it was close to two hours before he killed himself. Right then he knew, he could change the future, he was given a second chance.
