The Man by the Railroad

Chapter 1: The Richer, The Poorer. (Told By Cadence)

I shuffled out of the old school building, The post-card perfect sky began to darken, turning into a color like gravel.  Big pillows of clouds blotted the old-gold sun out.  The raindrops were heavy, they made loud plinking sounds against my umbrella I just brandished.

Three little girls were snickering and pointing, their names were Jessica, Rahman, and Duchess. They were the triplets of the school. I've never been fond of children, I barely am one myself.

They judge you, and hormones are just ridiculous. Adults are kind, and they listen. I have one adult friend, who is 20 years of age. Her name is Alana.

Alana wears lots of jeans, long cardigans, T-shirts, and converse. She has large bags under her eyes, they look like bruises. Her pale white skin goes perfect with her large doe eyes and ebony hair. She's not the makeup type, which is interesting for a girl her age.

Last summer I asked her why she always wore long sleeves, and the result was unpleasant.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Flashback)~~~~
"Pardon me for asking Alana, but why are you wearing long sleeves today? It's 70 degrees Fahrenheit!"

She giggled, she loves my big worded language. Her face soon went cold, and she started walking faster.

"You should go home. We've been out her awhile. Your mothers coming come soon."

I was appalled! She's never butted me off like that before!

"Hey!" I said grabbing her wrist, she winced, as if it hurt her. Did I hurt her?

"If you're that curious Cadence, then lift my sleeve up." She said, crying.

There on her arm were 3 large scars, as if cut with a razor.

"Who did this to you?"

She just started crying again, and ran off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(present time)~~~
I took the long way home today. I didn't want to face mother. I walked along the old rail road track, as if on a tightrope. My hair blew in the strong winds, and I accidentally let go of my umbrella.

"No!" I screeched, looking towards the sky.

As I looked back down I noticed him.

There was the old man. I had seen him for several days now.  He comes, sits, and eats a granny Apple. I wondered, "Why someone would want to live that way?"

The old man's hair was white as snow, and his skin was dark like ebony wood. He had slight stubble on his chin, and he wore an ugly hat. He wore an ugly hat every day. Not that I would say that to him, of course.

"Excuse me sir?" I asked, plopping my rain boots across the railroad tracks, which were rusted and antique. He looked up with a full mouth, trying to finish. He just made a sound with his mouth, like

"Hmm?"

"Well," I responded, "Why do you come here every day?"

"T-That's a-a q-question t-t-to c-omplicated t-to answer." He stuttered out.

Why is he talking funny? Because if it's a joke, it's a pretty rude joke indeed. Wait! Maybe it's not a joke? I don't want to hurt his feelings.

"Y-you r-really think b-before y-you speak d-don't cha?" He giggled.

I nodded, concern visible.

"I have to get going sir, but I brought you this." I handed him a sub sandwich, which had tomatoes, avocado, onions, ham, and Italian dressing. He looked at it in astonishment, thanking me over and over. He called me an angel from heaven, which made me giggle.

"I'm no angel."

"O-oh I b-bet you a-a-are! Y-you're b-b-b-beaut-iful, k-kind, e-e-every-t-thing a-an a-angel h-h-has!"

I smiled, giving him a hug.

"You're the angel Mr. Old Man."

He chuckled, hugging me back. I then walked back home, a skip in my step, thinking I did something good today.