End of Ordinary Days

End of Ordinary Days

My shoe slid partially over the ice plastered to the sidewalk, causing my briefcase to swing forcefully as I twisted and turned myself about, trying to hold my balance. As I stopped, I slowly picked my shoe up, staring down at the dangerous ice.

“I hate winter,” I muttered to myself, stepping over it as I continued on, drawing my long coat around me tighter. As I continued my walking, I noticed I was staring down at the ground, looking for more ice patches, but more than that, I kept having this gnawing feeling at the back of my neck like I was being watched. I lifted my head casually, glancing around me. White snow, inches deep, covered most people’s lawns, the leaves of their trees turned the bleaching color as well. Looking to my right, I saw the same scene, the entire neighborhood swallowed by these enormous flakes, the way it had been all week.

I continued on, crossing my arms as I neared the end of the sidewalk. I hated walking in the cold, but due to all the ice, my wife had made me promise to walk to work. Seeing as to how it wasn’t too far away, I obliged. I was a dentist and my office, surprisingly enough, was just on the side of an apartment complex. Across from it was a corner store. Despite it’s odd location, work was wonderful and I forced myself to tell my wife that the way to and from there was wonderful as well.

Lifting my head once more, I turned about me, stopping this time. I was almost positive I saw the face of some little kid peeking out at me from behind a tree. I looked down at the snow, hoping to see small footprints of some type, yet I saw none, just a bed of whit that seemed to stretch on and on. Letting out some breath I was with holding within myself, I continued on, more slowly this time and just as I knew it, I saw another one, possibly larger this time, peek out at me. Yet just as soon as it had come, it disappeared.

I whirled around quickly, stopping as I looked down at the first boy I had seen. He was bundled from head to two in scarfs and coats; God knows how many layers it went. My eyes simply burned into his as I stared at him, not knowing what he meant, but as I saw the white ball emerge from his back, I knew it then. The poor boys were still mad at me for last summer. My house happened to be the best on the end of a road conjunction that would have brought them ‘hundreds’ of dollars, as they had later put it, and because of my meanness and telling them they couldn’t use the edge of my lawn, they vowed to get me back.

Before I knew it, I had been hit, square in the face with a ball of freezing ice. I dropped my suitcase, grabbing my eyes as the water proceeded to burn my face, my yells being loud. From the back, I felt another hit of a bigger, more compacted snowball; the work of the older child, it had to be.

I tried to pick myself up so I could try and scurry for shelter, but there was none, just the mound of snow over the lawns. I had been suspecting that those kids were up to something when I saw them grinning at me as I walked to my office that day, but they were just kids! Who’d have thought they’d be capable of this?

Another ball his my back, forcing me back down; I could see the front tip of the shoes from the younger boy, he was laughing at me, and so was his brother. I reached my hand out to the side, grabbing a cold fist of snow. It wasn’t compacted very well and was soft, falling apart as soon as I released it from my hand in an hurried attempt to fight back, but it had hit something. The younger kid stumbled back as the cold stung his face, getting a little was what he dished out, it made me smile, but only for awhile.

I didn’t want it come to this, but being bombarded as I was, it was the only thing I could think of: war. I was raging a two front war on people’s lawn where no one seemed capable of coming to my help, an old poor defenseless man.

Despite my odds, I fought all day long, managing to pick myself up after being hit repeatedly from behind and the front. After that, I didn’t have much time to try and make a fortress, so I used what little cover my briefcase provided and that of the tree I was standing against. It was two to one, and they were winning; yet I was making it exceedingly difficult. By seven thirty at night, they had me beat, so tired that I could do nothing but lean against the trunk of the tree, panting out heavily as the air passed hurriedly through my lips.

They hit me a few more times with the ball, but by now, I was so tired and numb that I almost didn’t feel it. A door opened from somewhere, a lady calling out, “Tom and Joseph, time to eat.”

They stopped their playful pinches to my arm, backing away as they passed me deceiving smiles. “Watch your back tomorrow Mr. Brawls,” the older one, Tom, said. His brother simply nodded and then, as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone, running through the white fluff as they called out their victory screech, “We win.”