http://dailypost.wordpress.com, Daily Prompt, DP
Walking down the street, you encounter a folded piece of paper on the sidewalk. You pick it up and read it and immediately, your life has changed. Describe this experience.
Photographers, artists, poets: show us TRANSFORMATION.
He slept in boxes. He slept under the bridges. He slept where ever his body found comfort once the sun set.
He had once been a prosperous man residing in the hot spots of Florida. He had built shells of houses and sold them to people barely out of the danger zone of bankruptcy. His ideal goal was that he charged enough in payments that in no time at all he had gained not only the up-front cost but the house back.
He would repeat this business to one after another. His pockets heavy his checkbook fat he was living high on the hog. He had a sailing yacht. He owned two homes. One in his home town and one by the edge of the ocean.
Drink and friends could be seen anytime of the day or night. He had made millions and even had made the cover of a national magazine. But when one does things for the wrong reasons, it is almost guaranteed life will stop and come and bite you in the rear.
And this did happen. A police family under disguise portrayed the perfect family for purchasing one of his properties. A couple of weeks after entering the home the legal system had everything they required to bust the sales man.
In no time at all the savoy business man lost it all. His homes became foreclosed. His checkbook became skinny. His pockets folded inside out. Friends deserted him, drinks went dry.
As the companies came to clean out his house he sat at his dining table and wept in to his hands. Soon there was a tap on his shoulder. They needed him to move as they were confiscating this table also.
Soon there was silence. Birds could be heard singing outside the windows. Children could be seen heading to school. He picked up his last luggage and opening the door stepped outside and closed the door gently behind him.
Not knowing where he was going his feet stepped one in front of the other. By nightfall nothing had changed and he had a taste of his first real home in a box. He had earned it. It was fully his, and it was paid for.
Sleep came with difficulty. He laid in his blanket-made bed and watched others standing over canisters of heat. Warming their fingers as fall was beginning to enter. As his eyes closed he was having visions of the people he had frauded. All night, each night haunting dreams of people holding their arms out, begging for mercy. Asking for their doors to be once again opened.
In the mornings he rubbed his eyes as tears had filled the pockets and grief over took him. Each morning he walked and hunted for food like a caveman looking for his family. Walking the streets, the only visitors were his own shadows in store front windows, he was lonely, down and out.
The first snow had fallen and he had rummaged through a dumpster and found a ragged blanket. Pulling the cover closer to his nose, he began to weep. He looked towards the heavens and pleaded for forgiveness. He admitted he was wrong. He needed to have one more chance to prove that he was worthy of living.
The next morning he was walking his routine streets and he saw a folded piece of paper. He looked around to see if someone had just dropped it. Seeing no one reaching for it, he leaned down, weary and tired, bloodshot eyes and picked it up.
Fingers fumbled as he walked over to the metal sidewalk bench and sat down. He opened it up and saw one simple sentence. Very few words but with great meaning. He looked up to the skies and the first genuine smile crossed his face. He looked down once again to read the words, you have been forgiven.
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