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Reins of Life (edited with metaphor)
Drama
 Created on 4-1-07
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***NOTE: this is an extended metaphor***
Reins of Life
“You’re up at table seven,” Maureen instructed. Megan jumped off the cook’s counter and slipped her blue, scuffed heels back on. “I’m coming.” She sighed wearily. As she made her way out of the kitchen and into the short hall that connected the dining area Maureen asked, “Megan, what’s been with you lately? Honey, I’ve seen this before, you know Peterson will fire you, he’s a jackass.” She out stretched her arm onto Megan’s shoulder to make her halt. Megan turned to look at the elderly woman. She had more silver that brown in her hair. It was pulled back tightly in a bun to keep out of the way. She was the only one that worked at Daisy’s Place who wasn’t required to wear a knee length shirt. Instead she wore black dress pants, though the navy blue button-up dress shirt was the same as the other girls. “I know, Maur, but you just don’t understand, its just been really hectic lately,” she took a breath, “I’ll be on time tomorrow, promise.” Megan hated to promise things she knew weren’t likely to be kept, but she always found her self making them before she could shut her mouth. Her night job at UPS kept her running at almost all hours of the day. It drained her like a battery. The only part of her that always seemed to have energy was her hazel eyes, even if her dog died, her eyes still would sparkle. She continued her way to table seven, where she was forced to smile at two old men who didn’t hesitate to notice her long thin legs. It repulsed her, but to Megan, money was money, and she needed all she could get. Her short bleached-blonde hair fell to the sides of her face as she looked down to greet them. Grabbing all the enthusiasm she could find she asked “And what can I get for you two gentlemen?”
All five boys walked like a blockade down the center of the street. Luke was the youngest, only fourteen, but it didn’t make him any less of a troublemaker. The others were about sixteen to seventeen years old. They all made sure to have a glare in their eyes, and a slow limp to their step. This was to, of course, make others feel intimidated by them. Frankie and Ross were the leaders. They too, stood in as part of the wall, but their steps were just a little further than the others. “Yo Frankie,” shouted Scott, the largest of the bunch, “You tink is’t about time lil Luke starts to relaxin a bit?” Luke looked over to Scott. He desperately wanted to be brothers with them. He had always felt his home wasn’t good enough, he thought he needed real family. “Wha you mean ‘bout that?” Luke questioned. They proceeded down the road, passing the run-down houses. The lawns were patched with crabgrass, dandy lions, and dirt spots like a quilt. There was also tall grass that would occasionally sprout up on the sides of the tightly fitted houses, reaching their half-painted wooden windowsills. They turned down a side alley. The two buildings that stood between the paths became a barrier for light. Cracks crawled up the sides of the abandoned buildings like a spiders creeping up a wall. Four dumpsters lined in a row, boxes, trash, and foul piles of who-knows-what also matched the alley’s tenor. They cornered Luke, surrounding, closing in on him. Luke dreadfully did not want to show the hesitation, and anxiety to what was going on. So he continued to keep his chin up, making eye contact with each of them. “K lil man, its time we welcome you- officially. Whut you think?” Frankie said in a raspy voice, which required ear straining to comprehend. Then Frankie commanded, “Do it.” Luke knew what was coming next. He took a gulp and stretched his hands against the dumpster he was cornered against. In all his power he braced himself and took the first blow to the stomach. The fits flew at him with full force, leaving welts the size of baseballs all over his body. The first four punches sent unfathomable pain throughout his entire body, but then, Luke willed it all away. The beating seemed interminable to him, like time was repeating itself over and over again. All this bloodshed was simply to show him the power they held if he were to ever turn on them. After they had beaten a good amount of blood out of him, they sat against the opposite wall. Scottie unzipped his red book bag and took out a can a beer for each of them. They tossed one to Luke, who was lying on the ground preparing him self to get back up. The can hit his leg, and he despairingly picked it up and drank it.
Horse- n. a large solid hoofed herbivorous mammal domesticated by man since
prehistoric period and used as a beast of burden, or draft animal. (Webster’s New Students Dictionary) This massive beauty of short hair, almond dark eyes, and flowing tail has the power and strength that is commonly used for sport. Though its no doubt you would find them on a country farm, these animals are also used in rodeos and racing. Riders in a horse riding competition at the tracks prepare before a huge race. These men and woman were never born horse-bound; they had to lean to master key principles. Two of the many are called the gallop and the canter. The canter is a move that has come from the trot. If a rider cannot handle a horse well, most likely they wont be comfortable with this move. For the gallop, most riders are in the jumping position. Your horse needs not only speed but also an open space. Many are mistaken that the gallop equals no control. They are wrong.By the time Megan had gotten off of work, her feet had swollen up and blistered. She walked into the living room, which was small and messy. There were two couches that were powder blue, but later had turned gray. An old wood coffee table accompanied with water rings, a nearly filled ashtray, three crushed Sprite cans, and car magazines. She had blue-gray carpet, and her tiny kitchen connected to the living room. She plopped down on the couch and begun to rub her feet. It was 7:45p.m.; and hour and fifteen minutes before she had to leave for UPS. “Luke!” she hollered “Luke come here a minute.” But she got no answer. At the right of her was a stand with a lamp, her phone, and the answering machine. Noticing the red flashing light, she clicked the green play button. The robotic man’s voice came on, echoing through the room, “ You have two new messages. Beep… Friday April twenty-second at nine o’ three a.m.” Megan rotated her self so she could lie down, and stretch out her aching legs. She lit up a cigarette. The first message carried a voice that she didn’t know. At first she listened carefully incase it was important, the voice was a Middle Eastern man’s he said, “Hello? I’m calling to you to talk to you about the latest in nail care…” Megan laughed to herself and clicked erase on the machine. The next message was unfortunately, a very familiar voice. A young woman named Mrs. Kelton, “Hi, Miss Megan Callison, this is Mrs.Kelton, from Meadow Hills High school. I’m calling you in regards to Luke Callison. He was reported missing these last two days of school. I’m sorry to tell you Miss Callison, but your son has missed over five weeks of school total from unexcused absents, and will be put up for expulsion. If you would please call…” Those words were the heart-breaking fate for her young son. There was nothing left except the butt of her cigarette, so she put in out in the astray. Megan turned over so that the cushions would catch her tears. To her, it was like that innocent woman’s voice clutched her heart, and crushed aimlessly. She was exhausted, and today wasn’t the day to find out her son had done nothing to show he cared about his future.
Before anything, a rider must check the horse’s gear for security. First, the rider will probably check the saddle. Running their hands over the brown, black or any other colored seat to check of cracks or weaknesses. When squeezing the sides of the saddle, to check the tree, there should be absolutely no movement. If the tree is damaged, riding on the saddle will cause major back damage to the horse. After checking the saddle and its leather straps, the rider’s next concern is the stirrups and girth around the buckles for signs of being worn out. Lastly, the bridle and stitching is checked for security. Any other frail part to the horse’s gear can put both the rider and their horse in danger.
She closed her eyes and found her self awake at 9p.m. Jumping up she stared at the clock and realized that not only was she going to be late, once again, but also that Luke still wasn’t home. She dashed up the stairs. They were narrow and tall, not the kind you’d prefer to run up in a hurry. She turned left into the little bathroom and gabbed her knee in the side of the toilette. Next to that was the sink. She turned on the faucet and let the water get numbingly cold. She hovered over the sink and splashed her face a couple times. The water was to wake her up, but it only did a trivial job of refreshing. She took the maroon washcloth that was hung to the side of the mirror, and blotted her face dry. Megan stood there gazing at her reflection in melancholy; dark circles outlined her eyes. Though her cheekbones were high, her face was weighed down with unfulfillment. Her thoughts raced around in her head taunting her. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to stay awake at work, and so she opened the mirror’s cabinet. There laid five shelves filled with Asprin, allergy medication, cold medications, etcetera. Sitting there, an orange bottle of her son’s Attention Deficit Hyper Activity or A.D.H.D., medication. She didn’t know what else she was going to do if she couldn’t keep wake. The rent seemed to always come earlier than she expected, and if she didn’t have the strength to do what she needed, they’d end up in the poorhouse. Pushing her conscience to the back of her mind, she took the small Adderall pill, and walked out the door.
Luke entered the house, expecting that his mom had already left. He knew if she was home then she’d have it with him about coming home late, and then she’d question why he had cuts and bruises all of him. He walked into the kitchen, his baggy dark blue jeans dragged with him. He sat down; needing to rest his legs, then tilled his head back against the pale yellow wall. Just then, Megan hurried down the stairs. The staircase lead into the living room and past the kitchen. She slipped on her tennis shoes, walked past the kitchen and realized that someone was sitting in there. She paused and took a step back. “Luke!” she screamed, “Where the hell have you been?! It’s almost ten past nine and you think that you can just stroll up in here with out a care?” she walked over to him. Hovering over him he looked up, trying to look innocent. “Don’t worry ma, I was wit my friends that all.” He replied. “I don’t care who you were with, you’re only fourteen years old!” she snapped. Luke stood up, making Megan back up a little. Luke was tried of the same old fights and simply said, “Mom, I don’t see anythin’ wrong, go to work, worry ‘bout yourself!” Megan was infuriated, she was his mom, and it was her job to worry. If she didn’t worry then it would mean she didn’t love him, but she did. She loved Luke more than he’d ever know, and she’d done so much just to keep the roof over his head. Megan glanced at his neck to find a bruise starting at the middle and wrapping around it. “What happened?” she asked, but Luke didn’t know how to answer. “I said what happened to you… oh Luke, please tell me you didn’t get into a fight, do you know what happens when you fight? Do you know what could happen when you fight! What’s wrong with you!” Luke took her hand and brushed it off him. “Leave me alone,” he said walking away, “ Just go to work.” Megan started to feel this burst of energy flowing through her veins, and followed him. “No Luke, I’m not gunna leave you alone be-because its my job to look after you!” she shouted. Then she remembered about the message on her phone. “And can you explain to me why you haven’t been at school for two days, and can you tell me what could compel you to miss over 5weeks total?” she exclaimed, feeling the tears coming with every step he took away from her. “But ma, its just-” he started to say “Don’t but ma me! You’re up for expulsion! Don’t you know what that means?” she interrupted. He turned around, now they were in the living room. Luke sighed, and said, “Maybe school’s just not my style.” Megan shook her head. She had every intention of slapping him, but strained herself not to. “What, you’re expecting to make a living being a criminal with your delinquent friends?!” Megan cried, “You’re so much better than that!” Luke sat down and nonchalantly replied, “Well maybe I’m not… and don’t you be telling me tat you’ve been an angel you’re entire life.” This was Luke’s favorite comeback. His word of weapon was his father, whom he wasn’t supposed to have contact with. “Don’t even Luke! You’re father has nothing to do with any of this!” she screamed. “Yeah well maybe I’d be better off with him, huh?” Luke coldly answered. Intoxicated with rage Megan said, “Well maybe you should just go call him up!” Then she stormed out the door, lighting a cigarette on the way out.
Maureen scurried over to Megan, who was sitting in the locker room with her hands over her face. “What’s wrong Sweetheart?” Maureen sat beside her, one arm over Megan’s shoulders. Megan unveiled her face from her hands, revealing her red sobbing eyes, and flushed cheeks. Megan took a deep jagged breath in and whispered, “I-I-I was late, I was late to UPS, and” Her tears increase, “And they fired me…” Maureen wrapped her arms around her, trying to console her the best she could. “Don’t fret, you’ll find another job in no time.” She reinsured her. “I’m so sick of working ten jobs,” Megan whimpered. “Well its best we get to work now, so we both still have at least one job left.” Maureen instructed.
Luke was almost finished, so he came down stairs for a drink. As he poured himself a glass of Gatorade, Megan came home. She walked right over to the couch and took off her heels. She was anticipating the way she was going to break it to Luke about her job. “Luke,” she called, “I have to,” she sighed, “I have to telling you something.” Luke walked to the archway and leaned against the wall. He folded his arms, he wanted to make as little disturbance as possible; he knew his mom was going to have a fit soon. “Yeah, I’m here” he answered. Megan rubbed her inflamed feet with one hand, and held her cigarette in the other. “I was fired, at UPS.” She said tiredly. Usually Luke would be disappointed, he would have been troubled by not having enough money to live on, but this time he wasn’t. “That sucks.” He bluntly replied. Luke went up stairs to his room; Megan could hear his door quickly slam shut.
When a horse kicks for another reason than a simple leg reflex, it is because they are trying to get rid of a threat. As far as rearing, bolting, and balking go, its done in the name of fear. A horse that has been abused by beating will attack any person it comes in contact with. In rare occasions, a horse will canter and jerk about to throw off its rider. Many injuries have come from this, but sadly to say, the rider is the motive for the temper, in many times.
Megan set motionless on the couch for a half hour. Like always, she laid in her own world, deadened within her mind. She was brought back to reality by the doorbell. She got up and walked over to answer it. Opening the door, her mind went blank in bewilderment. “Henry, What are you doing here?” she asked firmly. The man, whose face she hadn’t seen in over five years was grimy and bitter. He wore a flannel shirt, which was buttoned up only half way. Underneath it was a wife beater, stained with what looked like gravy. He hadn’t shaved for a week, and his brown hair was slicked back. His eyes were a deep brown, just as Luke’s were. He stepped in the house as Megan cleared his way. “I come to git my son.” He grunted. Luke made his way down the stairs, both parents stood there looking at him. “I know what you gunna say,” Luke continued “But I’ma tired of this crap that’s been goin’ on.” Megan’s fear level rose to an unbearable altitude. “What are you talking about!” she screamed, “We’re fine! We’re a fine happy family. You’re not leaving.” Luke carried with him two bags, and a book bag. “Dad.” He looked up at his father. “Jus git my truck, I’ll talk with her.” Henry directed. Luke left the house and waited in the car.“You’re not taking my son you piece of shi-” “Megan! The boy wants to be with me, I’m not gunna disappoint my son, like you’ve” Henry interrupted. Megan started to tear up, “No, I know you, you haven’t changed since high school! You’re gunna ruin him!” she screamed, “Get out! Get out! Give me Luke and get out!” Henry made a stride towards her. Megan stood hard in her spot. “You can’t bully me anymore.” She snapped. Then Henry took his hands on her arms to thrust her against the wall. Her shoulder blades rammed into the hard wall, but she remained standing. “Please don’t do this.” She cried. “Then you leave Luke with me,” he snared. “No.” she whispered. His face became hot, sweat pelts collected at his forehead and traveled down the veins that rose out of his neck. As he took her arms and launched her to the side, slamming her against the coffee table’s edge, he bellowed, “He’s staying with me.” He made sure she couldn’t get up to run after him, then as he walked out he hollered “I hope I don’t have to make that any more clear.”
The adrenalin pumps through the rider’s veins, until the very animal they sit under misses a step, sending them cruising though the air and smashing into the solid ground. The Accident Compensation Corporation (ACC) reported in the New Zealand Medical Journal study, that horse riding had climbed to the peek of the danger list. Listed as an adventurous sport, riding has topped mountain climbing and skiing combined. To be trampled on isn’t unheard of, nor is it to die at a horse’s hoof. Rodeos and horse competitions have sent riders with fractured bones, broken “everythings”, and distorted faces to the hospital. After being paralyzed from the chest down, an old rodeo horse rider said that maybe it would have been better to be sent to his gave, rather than the emergency room.
Deplorable heartache teased to conquer her. She stood in her bathroom with a washcloth dabbing the gash on the side of her face. Megan couldn’t keep from trembling; she was lost on what to do. Her body ached, but she needed energy to figure out what to do next. Opening the mirror’s cabinet she searched, once again, for the bottle of Adderall. The pills were nowhere to be found and it dawned on her that Luke took them with him. She had begun to sob once more. She was destroying who she was. Taking her son’s prescription medication, she thought, what kind of mother was she? She needed to change, everything needed to change. Then, Megan realized what needed to be done. It was time to put her foot on solid ground. So she took out her cover up, put on her tennis shoes, and grabbed her jacket.
“Luke! Buzz da pizza guy in” Luke came out of the spare bedroom after he set his luggage down on the bed. Henry’s apartment was small and filthy, like him. The big screen T.V. in the living room, like the rest of the house was disproportional to the dirty and run down apartment. “Dad, the buzzer isn’t working.” He replied after pressing the white button five times. “Oh that’s right, go down there and get it,” he instructed. His dad sat on a recliner with the leg rest up drinking a beer. “Where’s da money?” Luke questioned. “You have yer wallet on you?” Henry asked “Uh, yeah…” he answered. “Well there’s the money, now git down there before he leaves.” Henry told him.
Imagine you’ve been one of the lucky riders who only suffered a few broken bones after your demoralizing riding accident. You could have died, and now you stand there; fearing the very animal, the very sport you once lived for. Now, it is time to straddle once again. Though being only human, a rider now is not only anxious, but skeptical. Many feel that once on the horse, every movement the horse makes will turn into a trip to the ER. Some have even been reported of experiencing a panic attack. What they must do now is over come this trepidation by learning that you must fall down, to learn how to get up. Close your eyes and picture riding free once again, there is no need to accelerate the process; merely rebuild your skills.
Luke went down the two flights of stairs to get to the door. He opened it to find his mom staring at him. “Get your stuff, you’re coming home.” She demanded. “Wh-Ma what you doing across town?” he asked surprised. “I’m here to get you back, you can’t stay with that man,” she tilted her head up at him, “We’re going to work everything out, I promise, and I mean it.” Luke narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t promise anything,” he barked. Megan’s head was pounding with a migraine from stress. She brushed her hair behind her ears, exposing her wound. “Who did that to you?” Luke asked concerned, “I mean, I know you always be telling me not to fight, so what happened?” Megan didn’t want to tell him, so she tried to change the subject saying “Never mind that, please Luke I love you, go up stairs, grab your bag, and I’ll wait in the car.” Luke started to piece it all together, and a streak of anger fell through him. “Mom, did he do that to you?” he asked lowing his voice. She couldn’t find her words; her answer was a glistering tear.
He opened the car door and threw his bags in the back. Just then Henry walked out, cursing every word considered inappropriate. Megan sped off with a smile. “You know,” she said, “ I if can graduate high school, so can you.” Luke looked at his mom and smirked, “Yeah ma, and now you’re living high.” Megan glanced over to him for a moment and grinned, “Well, sure it isn’t going to strike us rich, but a nurse can make enough.” He looked at her again in question. She drew a folded piece of paper from her purse; it was an application to nursing school, night classes.
Each rider has their own unique situation they must over come. Its been said that you’re not a rider unless you’ve fallen off seven times, and maybe it is true. Life will buck you off, but its up to you, to choose to get back on. Like a previously injured rider who learns to over come their fear, Megan learned that she too must swing her leg around and straddle life once again. Even though we fall hard, bleed, cry, and maybe even regret, the sweet temptation of giving up, must be resisted. Take hold like a rider; grab life, as Megan did, by the reins.Comments
Please Login to post comments| On June 4th 2007 Angel72nd07 Said : | |
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Very good , Loved the metaphor and I think you did an excellent job of charecter description and figuritve language |
