The Man on 5th Street

This is a nice, feel good story that will make you smile (hopefully). This starts off a bit sad, gory and sarcastic, so i hope you guys will look over that! Just a cute little story i wrote when i was bored! :) Enjoy

 

In a narrow alleyway on 5th Avenue, New York City, hidden beneath the trash and rubble, lived Arthur G. Whinhamn. He was a thin man, most likely due to the fact that he had very little money for food, and he had sober green eyes that looked gray with age and disappointment. These eyes were shut tight against the street noise of the city and the howling November wind that whipped across his face.

It was easy to see that Arthur did not have a cheerful life, or indeed a lucky one. Disowned by his ashamed parents, robbed by his best friend, cheated on by his fiancé, it was a miracle in itself that he was still alive and healthy. But this miracle was not one to last long; Arthur G. Whinhamn was going to die. 

He was planning it even in his sleep; he would walk calmly over to the sidewalk, gaze interestingly at the passing cars and, just before a large truck or SUV came hurtling across the intersection, he would throw himself out onto the asphalt. 

"BAM!" Quick and easy.

It was gruesome and sad, yes, but Arthur had no other choice. At least, so it appeared to him. One could argue that he could work towards getting a job, maybe later even completing high school, and then onto college where he would succeed in being a rich man at the country, with two little children and a beautiful wife, and maybe a small little white dog scampering behind them. 

At least, one could hope for that to happen. 

But to Arthur G. Whinhamn, a man with no talents, barely any education and no masculine charm, this was as highly possibly as for animals to start walking on their hind feet wearing tailcoats and top hats, while speaking in a high British accent.

So he was going to end his misery this night, as the clock would strike twelve.

 

As the afternoon sun fell on his face, Arthur opened his eyes a sliver, only to wake up to the sight of large crowds of people and cars. He scowled. Today's the day, he thought wryly, No turnin' back now...

He stood up from his makeshift bed amongst the rubbish, and stretched luxuriously. Being his last day, he might as well enjoy it, and he looked up to the clear blue sky with a ironic grin. 

Well, at least it was nice weather to die in. 

 

Down the street and to the right, on the corner of 5th and 6th, nine year old Emily Janet Ferswick was also waking up to the bright morning rays. She opened her eyes to see the bright blue paint on the walls of her room, blending with the  darker blue shade of her blankets and bed sheets. As she left her room to join her mother and father, she marveled at the beauty of the early morning sun amidst the tall sky scrapers and smog. 

"Morning, Daddy, morning, Mama," she said as they pecked her on the cheek. 

"Morning honey," her mother called through bites of toast. "Jenn called, says she's having a little get together with some other little friends of yours, and she asked you to come,"

Emily wrinkled her nose. "Oh, but Jenn is such a bore, and it is way too nice of a day to sit inside gossiping about school. No, I want to do something different today,"

"Different, sweetheart?" chortled her father "Why whatever do you mean?"

 

The truth was, young Emily Janet Ferswick did not know what she meant. She merely had a feeling, a feeling to do something different, to do something that could change the life of a little thin man who thought he was living the last day of his life.

 

As Emily skipped down the street to the little shops that were blanketed by the cooperate buildings above, she noticed a tall thin, rather scruffy man walking past her as if this were the most woeful day of his life. He seemed to not notice where he was going, and his shoulders were hunched over in disappointment. 

"Um, sir? Are you quite alright?" Emily called up to him, but the man took some time to realize who had spoken. 

"Yeah, I’m good," the man said, in a very scraggly and rough voice. 

Emily raised an eyebrow in disbelief, and continued her inquiry. 

"What's your name?"

The man looked taken aback and slightly annoyed, and he stared down at Emily with a mixture of anger and interest. 

"Arthur G. Whinhamn."

"That's a very nice name," Emily said, and she skipped alongside the man in silence. 

After a while, she left Arthur’s side and went running down the street until she was lost in the crowd. Arthur was left alone again to his thoughts of his coming death, and he marveled at the strange little girl. Not that he blamed her for running off, it was the right thing for a little girl to do when confronting a beggar.

His eyes stared down at his feet as he walked, and he didn’t notice that someone was pulling at his sleeve until they spoke.

“Umm…Mr. Whinhamn?”

Arthur looked up to the speaker. It was the girl. She was back, only this time she held two towering vanilla cones in her hand, and there was a huge grin on her face. She pushed one cone towards him, beckoning him to take it.

            “I thought some ice cream would cheer you up,” she said, as Arthur took the cone with disbelief.

“I…umm…thank you,” his voice was shaking slightly as he eyed the girl, and he turned his head to the ice cream. How long had it been since he had last tasted something like this? He couldn’t remember the number of years. Opening his mouth reluctantly, he raised the sweet to his lips.

It was like being born again.

Sugar rushed into his every taste bud, and an ice cold draft filled his lungs as if he were breathing snow. The youthful gleam trickled back into his eyes, and his skin seemed to glow.

Arthur and Emily walked down the street once again in silence, only this time they were happily polishing off their ice cream cones.  

As the sun loomed high in the sky at midday, Emily waved her goodbyes to Arthur, as she made her way home. A part of Arthur didn’t want her to leave, because he knew that then his thoughts would turn back to the horrible thing that was to take place midnight that day. But he still smiled as the girl left, and then turned around and began walking again, this time back to the old alley that was his home.

 

As Emily walked away, she couldn’t help feeling that there was still something she forgot to do. She gazed through the windows of the shops, wondering what it possibly could be, when a sign on one particularly colorful shop made the thought come back to her.

“Flowers!” she whispered, and eagerly hurried into the shop. When she came out, she was holding a bright yellow sunflower in her hand, planted neatly into a white porcelain pot. Still grinning, Emily turned back to the direction where she had left Arthur, only to feel her heart drop again. There would be no way to find him in the crowds of New York City, and she had no idea where he lived. All she had was his name, but she doubted that that would help much.

Disheartened, Emily made her way back home to 5^th Avenue, still clutching the flower sadly.

She walked past the familiar streets and building with regret at not asking where the man had lived. She was so lost in her thoughts, that she didn’t notice it when she had passed her house and was traveling deeper into 5^th Avenue, a place where she had never been before.

The noise of trash cans falling startled Emily out of her reverie, and she looked around in surprise.

She was in a maze of alleyway and inner streets, all covered with shadows from the tall, empty warehouses surrounding them. Emily began to quicken her pace, searching for a way out, when she heard a small grunt and snore.

It came from a particularly dirty and dark alley, and Emily held her breath as she peered into it.

There, lying amidst the dirt and garbage, was Arthur, sleeping soundly as if he was sleeping in a palace. His face seemed even dirtier, his eyes more sunken. The sight of it made Emily start to cry, but she hastened to stop herself before she woke Arthur up. Taking out a small piece of paper and a blue pen, she hastily scribbled a note before placing it into the flowerpot, which she then set down nicely beside her sleeping friend. Drying her eyes as she got up, Emily turned back out of the alley and headed back down 5^th Avenue in the direction of her home.

It was the church clock that woke Arthur up from his sleep, and he blinked his eyes dazedly in the dark. He stood silent, listening to the number of chimes. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11…12. It was time.

Arthur got up from his lying spot on the ground and was just about to leave when he saw something white sparkle in the moonlight. He squinted towards the object that was perched on the ground beside the spot where he had lain.

            It was a single sunflower, in a gleaming white pot. He picked up with his shaking, rough fingers, and was surprised with the glassy smoothness of the porcelain. Turning it over in his hands, Arthur could see a note protruding out of the soil.

            Pulling it out gently, he saw that there was a short message scrawled on it, barely legible in the moonlight.

           

“Dear Mr. Whinhamn,

                        You are my best friend.

                        I am praying for you.

                                    Emily

           P.S. Will you have ice cream with me tomorrow?”

 

            Tears gushed out of Arthur’s eyes as he read the note over and over, still clutching the flower in his arms. Forgetting of his plans, his thoughts, Arthur placed the pot back down gently beside his bed, not releasing the note from his grip. People still rushed through the streets, and cars still hummed and honked, but Arthur was going to wake up to yet another morning to hear it all again.

            After all, he had a date.

 

            You may not pay attention to the details of every day, of every moment. You may not remember the kind things you do, or even the mean ones. But there is always someone out there who will, someone who will remember that moment as clearly as if it was a movie being played right in front of their eyes. Arthur is only one example, and a very small one. He may still end up dying tomorrow, or the day after, or maybe not for years to come. But until that day, the memory of that little girl will be the clearest thing in his head, and it may be the only thing that brings a smile to his face when times are tough.

            The next time you do something bad or wrong, you may think that it means nothing. But it does. To another life, another heart, it means everything in the world.

            Don’t underestimate the power of kindness, and don’t overlook the power of hatred.

 

            Who knows? You may meet an Arthur one day yourself.

 

 

Author's Note

Please give any thoughts you have on this piece, good or bad!

Reviews

[Willow B. Coldfeather]

This actually brought tears to my eyes. And not many stories, books or movies do.
It was so touching. I loved it.
I love your tone, this was so well written.
By far the best thing I've read in my few days on this site.
It's going in my library.
This was just brilliant!

[ATG]

A very moving and touching piece of writing. Very interesting and sweet. It was well written. Good job.

[Scotty]

Wow, a very moving and thoughtful story. I really enjoyed it! nice work!

[Initium]

this was absolutely a masterpiece. I could've cried. Bravo. Magnifico!

[Adela Muresan]

This is so incredibly heart-warming, but kind of har to believe...I mean, how many people have srange huntches like Emily ?

Anywayz the first part ( before Emily came in ) in the best in my opinion ---> well written.

A.M.

Brilliant! I love the tone of the story; the narrator's voice is very sarcastic and witty, while being serious at the same time. I especially love how Arthur G. Whinhamn found something in the end.