These stories were written while in college for a creative writing class, however, I just revived them from their horrible floppy-disk graves. None of them are true, per say, but do invoke a personal story behind the mask......
There are probably very few people who can say that their entire life was changed by the events of a single day, and I am proud to proclaim that I am one of them.
I was born and raised in a small coal-mining town in Western Pennsylvania named Vintondale. The population was only about nine hundred, but compared to the few tattered homes that remain there today, this was a big town. Outside of a few other small family businesses, everyone who was over the age of sixteen worked in the mines. This was a very hard way of life with the average workday consisting of sixteen hours, and the workweek allowed only Sunday for rest. Everyone knew what the meaning of hard work was in Vintondale.
My Father especially knew the meaning of the hard work that went along with working in the mines, because all of his time except for a few hours of sleep each night was spent there. He would rise faithfully every morning at 4:30 A.M. no matter how fatigued or sick he was, so he would be at work by five. His lunch and supper meals were spent in the company of immense dirt, smoke, and almost unbearable machinery noise, hardly the setting earned by a man who worked so hard. He finally was able to leave at about 10:00 P.M. and come home to a family that had already went to sleep, a family that could not listen to the thoughts and dreams of a man who did this for them.
I never had a chance to find out my Father's thoughts because of his long hours, and this took quite a toll on the almost non-existent relationship between us. I can remember laying in my bedroom after supper wishing that my Father might come home early, and that he and I would go into the back yard and throw the ball around together. However, this wish was never answered, and after a while I began to feel emotions of anger and abandonment towards him. I felt as if he cared more about his job at the mine than he did for me. What other rational could a boy of nine years come up with? So one morning I decided to skip school and venture to the mine instead.
That morning of April 21, 1948 was the beginning of the day that changed my life. Shortly after ten in the morning I made my way down to the mine. I remember that morning as though it happened only seconds ago, the dark clouds, the damp smell of smog in the air, and wind that seemed to cut right to the bone. I entered the mine at about 10:30 A.M. and started searching for my Father. I saw a group of men with yellow hard-hats on squatting down in a small circle about one-hundred yards away, so I decided to go over and ask them if any of them knew where my Father was. About five steps later, I saw one of the men push down on a crimson red plunger and yell "Blast!" Before I had any idea of what was happening, I felt the whole mine rumble and screamed for my Father. I saw a yellow hard-hat pop above the men and scream my name louder than the blast itself, it was my Father. It had seemed like he had sprinted the one hundred yards in one single second when I felt him push me away. At that very moment, an avalanche of rocks and coal buried my Father and took away his life. The time was 10:42 A.M., and I will never forget it.
That day changed my life because it made me realize that my Father worked those long hours so he could provide for our family, and that he truly did love and care about me. My Father gave me something that he could give no one else, his life.
I can remember that day. That day, in which one wonderful chapter of my life was complete, was also the day that a new one had begun. That day had left my heart a blizzard of emotions. It was that day that I said goodbye to the only home I had ever known.
I remember taking one last look at some of the places that had been the stage of some of the best events in my life. The wide open back yard, which we use to pretend was our very own Three Rivers Stadium, was the set for countless games of home run derby which often times went from early afternoon until our eyes could no longer see the ball. The downstairs game-room, where I had spent so many hours trying to become the world's best pin-ball wizard and pool shark. And finally, there was the huge front porch, where my Father and I spent numerous summer nights discussing everything from Rock 'n Roll to world politics.
As I was encompassed in my daydream on the front porch, I was quickly returned to the present when my family came out the front door; it was time to say our good-bye’s. This was the most emotion that had ever filled my heart. As I embraced each member of my family, a whirlwind of memories of the times that each of us had spent together, spun through my head like a tornado. The cascade of tears that rolled down my face felt very different than tears shed in the past. These tears felt very heavy on my cheeks, as if they were carrying a part of me with them, a part that would never return.
Lastly, I remember climbing up into the fully packed U-Haul that I had rented, and getting ready to leave. As I pulled the door closed, it had seemed as if a door closed inside my heart. This door would be locked forever because the one key that would open it is in the home that I had left behind. This feeling managed to surface the last of my tears, and I knew I had better be going. As I made that unforgettable left turn off of my street, I knew that I had crossed the threshold from the past into the future, a future that would no longer include that home.
That day, that emotion filled day, I said goodbye to a home that was filled with memories of the family and places that I loved. When I left that day, a part of me stayed with that home, the home that I will always love.
On the morning that my friend and I took an exhilarating hike through the woods, we accidentally discovered the most beautiful mountain stream that we had ever seen.
Before we had even caught a glimpse of the spectacular sight that awaited us, we had first heard it's sound. Although it's voice was quite soft, it still managed to cut through the sounds of our feet trekking through the dew-covered leaves and small branches. It only sounded like a light breeze, but as we walked farther East we identified the sound to be a small stream. We decided to follow the sound, which had taken us off the trail, and see what nature had in store for us. At this point, we had no idea of the beauty that we were about to encounter.
As we neared the source of the sound, we could see enormous, round boulders that were almost completely surrounded by rhododendron trees and fern. These grayish-white boulders were set in clusters of about two or three, and stood about six to seven feet tall. A blanket of emerald-green moss softened their rough surface, and they were kept shaded from the sun's rays by a natural umbrella of rhododendron. Many varieties of fern sprouted up between the rocks, showing off their colors of light green, yellow, and reddish-orange. After a few moments of admiring the beauty of what we saw, we decided to venture into the rhododendron and find our calling stream.
When we finally made it through the rhododendron, we were stopped dead in our tracks by the sight of the stream. It's crystal clear water flowed over the highest boulders like a miniature waterfall, and then split in between the clusters of boulders branching out in many different directions. Small rays of sunlight beamed through the rhododendron onto the water causing a mirrored reflection of pure white light. Small droplets of water fell off the many fern, sparkling like diamonds before landing in the clear water. It seemed as though we had been the first to discover this beautiful stream that nature had called us to.
Beyond the visual beauty of the stream, there were also the sounds, scents, and tastes that also captivated our senses. The sounds of rushing water falling over the tall boulders, birds singing their summer lullabies, and rustling leaves waving in the gentle breeze were just a few of the tranquil sounds of the stream. The stream was also full of nature’s wonderful fragrances. The smell of fresh pine and fully bloomed wild flowers filled the refreshing forest air. We also enjoyed the taste of the naturally purified water straight out of the stream.
Only after seeing the sun start to fade into the horizon, did we realize that we had spent the entire day enjoying the sights, sounds, fragrances, and tastes of the most beautiful stream that either of us had ever seen. I guess it is a strange thing how Mother Nature can amaze you with some of the simplest things in life!