The Cold wind Of the world

The night was growing old as Sam sat at the edge of his bed. The floor was cold and his feet were beginning to hurt from the cold but, the cold did not seem to trouble him, no his mind was in that far away place that those of us with deep issues in are life often go, that dark quite place were we are alone with our thoughts and nothing but them, only coming back when we relies that it is lonely and, that what we are seeking to escape is slowly going to leak it’s way in to this sanctuary. Once more his mind was brought to the ideals of god and humanity.  It was a crisis of faith; many often find them during sermons when the minister or priest says something that they do not agree with. But this case is much different; his heart was bleak with a cold emptiness, something of a dread that there will be a tomorrow.  So there he sat contemplating solutions to his and the worlds problems. As the night grew colder and he slowly realised that his feet were in great pain from the icy floor, he decided that it would be in his best interest to speak with his persist tomorrow, hopefully that would provide him with some brief self-indulgent comfort. He laid on his head on this cold flat pillow and closed his eyes and drifted slowly off to sleep, his sleep was, to his despair eventful. He dreams filled with visions of the worlds pains, the starving children of the world, the sick and, the dieing but, it did not stir him, he did not flinch, his minds eye only looked and paid the utmost attention to every incredibly painful detail.1

The morning came and, he placed his feet on the still icy floor. Standing slowly he dawns with normal attire, simple work pants and work shirts. He walks slowly through his apartment, to his icebox-like refrigerator, looking in it he finds some milk that is 2 days past the expiration date, paying little mind to how old it is he takes it and drinks it down, with a small flinch due to the taste and small chunks that have made there home in the gallon jug. After eating he puts on his shoes and walks out the door. He looks at his car, run down and junkie. With gas coasting as much as it dose now there would be no need to drive it, walking would be well worth it. Having no job he only had one thing that he felt “had: to be done today, see his minister.  Walking unusually fast he makes his way to the church, seeing all the sights his city has to offer, litter, homeless and general evils, and in the center of it all a large brick church, that had around it the aura of corruption and violation.  Phased little by what was around him, Sam enters the pews are dusty and cob webs sit on most of the visible surfaces. Wondering through its maze like halls Sam finds an office section, were the minister would more than likely reside during the day. He finds a large wooden door with a tag on it saying “REV. ANOCH” somewhat intimidated by this he knocks timidly and within minutes a small old man opens the door. His face beamed with a smile of unnaturally white teeth and dark red gums. He spoke quickly as if excited to see him, or really another human. 2

“Come in, come in have a seat.”3

Sam did as he was told and without letting the revered say another word, he unloads all that is on his mind, the doubts in his mind about everything. Some what unnerved by what he was told the reverend sits down and comprehends, trying to think of something good to say. 4

“My good boy, it is not your faith that dwindles, it is that fact that you wish to hold the world on your shoulders. All that you can do is try and help make it a better place.  Make a person happy, you intern will be happy and, feel as though you have helped out a world in crisis.”5

Feeling uplifted by this solution, Sam leaves without another word but with a tornado of thoughts, ideas plans. He nearly runs to the front step of his small apartment. As he turns the key and begins to open the door, a homeless man walks up to him asking for spare change. A cold wind blows by, so cold that his hands begin to hurt but, he is too blinded by his chance to help someone that it does not bother him. Instead of giving the man change he ushers him in to his small home. The cold wind blows through the door and cools everything. Sam speaks with the man politely and smiles as he dose so, offering him warm food and drink. The man does nothing but smile and nod. Sam turns his back and begins making pasta on the stove, it is all that he has left in his home, but with this new found urge to help the helpless it bothers him not. Quickly he feels a sharp pain in his back. He had been stabbed; the homeless man continued this mercilessly. Sam fights back as hard as he can, running on pure instinct. The struggle leads to his bed room. Alas Sam is over powered and falls dead to the floor. The homeless man takes his shoes and shirt, then props Sam’s body on the bed like he is sitting with his feet over the side.6

The night grows old and he is still alone with his feet touching the cold cold floor. Only now his mind is at ease nothing bothers him any more. A victim of kindness, and the cold wind of reality 7