Mr. Ashthorne

Prompt 2:

Write from the perspective of a character who has just learned that he or she has less than a year to live. Write an analytical essay examining their emotions, thoughts, feelings, and actions.

May 14th, 1934. 10:30 p.m.

The night was rainy and unusually cold in the city of Boston. The one-bustling city of Boston from the 1920's was suddenly devoid of any positivity. Families were starving, dirty and dusty men were prowling the street at night looking for homes they could rob, and the garbage lining the streets were piled especially high tonight. Smog and smoke pooled in the sky like heavy mercury sinking to the bottom of a lake. But, for some reason, the air was still. The wind hardly moved an inch, as if cautious to awaken the people sleeping in their cold, unpowered houses. The once beautiful phoenix of Boston had been reduced to nothing but ash and soot, and yet a magnificent bird had not yet been reborn.

Within these crowded, yet empty lands of broken dreams never brought to fruition lived a man by the name of Harvey Ashthorne. He was a tad shorter than what was deemed normal; however, he made up for his stature with his stockiness and hyper-masculine booming voice. His dark black hair was nearly as dark as the night sky above him, and his eyes a deep green, like the pigment of the grass in his yard that had long withered away. He was seen as the "grouchy" type, seldom showing any emotion except rage or irritation. The only exception to this rule is when he was able to obtain riches. Even before the stock market's crash-- which, of course, did its number on the stingy man-- he was scrounging for every piece of cash he could get his grubby hands on. On this particular night, he sat unmoving in his crimson velvet armchair which he held so dearly, sipping from a three-dollar cup one could mistake for being plated with gold. He stared longingly into the fireplace, wishing everything's value hadn't gone down so greatly, wearing nothing but a bathrobe and an irritated frown.

Up until that point, the night was going as pretty much every other night had gone for the past few months. Alone once again, until an unusual knock at the door. Harvey jumped at the sound, as he didn't hear footsteps outside. He began to ponder if he should even check the door, worrying about it being some criminal, but he figured the best course of action was to grab his rifle (that was definitely legally obtained), and peer through the window. As he ran to grab his weapon, there was another knock, louder and more demanding than the last. His heart was jumping out of his chest, but he attempted to keep his composure.

"Yeah, yeah! Just gimme a sec, will 'ya?"

As if responding to the tension, the wind picked up again, whistling through the broken and cracked seams between the windows and the wall. Harvey fumbled around for his rifle, finally finding it after a few short moments, and he rushed back to the main room to check who this stranger was. However, by the time he got to the door, it had somehow already opened.

Had he forgotten to lock it?

The stranger was standing in the doorway, being drenched by the torrential downpour. They were extremely tall, and by the looks of their body they seemed a little sickly. They wore a long, black coat-- no, a cloak-- with an ominous hood that covered half of their face with fabric and the other half with shadows. They carried nothing but a black umbrella, with the handle curved in a peculiar way, almost like an S. Everything about them made Harvey shudder in fright and pale to the face, but he did his best to keep his composure.

"And just what are you doing out 'ere so late at night, knockin' on my door?"

"I have come to warn you of what's to come."

The stranger's voice was even deeper than Harvey's. It resounded through his eardrums, sending horrid chills down every bone in his body. The stranger's voice was almost piercing through his very soul, right down to his core, as if the voice itself could see every one of his thoughts. It brought nothing but fear and dread. Still, the stranger continued.

"My name is Mr. Lumina. I am not here to directly bring harm to you myself, Mr. Ashthorne."

"You... how do'ya know my name?"

The stranger did not acknowledge his comment. He merely continued with his message, as if Harvey wasn't even there.

"In less than a year's time, you will inevitably perish. Try as you might, you cannot change this fact."

"Wh-"

"However," the stranger continued, his tone solemn and unwavering, "if you wish to live a fulfilling afterlife, or even avoid damnation, you mustn't keep with your ways. You have done nothing in your life but hoard your treasure like a dragon. Grief shan't be bestowed upon you if you have nobody willing to grieve your loss."

There was a brief moment of silence. Harvey felt numb. This couldn't be real... could it? ...No. It can't be real. This must be a prank.

"Damn kids..." he muttered under his breath. "If this is some kind of practical joke, then it's reeeeal funny! Ohh, your parents ain't gonna hear the end of this!"

"This is no joke, Mr. Ashthorne." the stranger asserted. "You must heed my warning. If you fail, you will die without love. And you shall be punished without mercy."

And with that, Harvey spat on the ground next to the stranger's shoes and slammed the door in his face.

To Harvey, this was absolutely ridiculous. He couldn't fathom any possible situation where this could be legitimate. After all, there's no way someone whom he has never met could know exactly when he was going to die. However, the more he thought about it, the more suspicious he grew. Who was this stranger? Why couldn't he hear the stranger's footsteps when he arrived? Why was the stranger wearing such drab attire? The ominous presence about him couldn't be ignored. Was this warning merely a threat, or was the threat just a warning?

After a long night of consideration and not a wink of sleep, Harvey decided that, regardless of whether or not the stranger's warning was truthful, it may be useful to get into the habit of being well-respected. His justification for it at the time was to earn more credibility and, thus, earn more money. In his heart, he knew fear was the true driving force behind this sudden change of heart, however he set out to fulfill this goal regardless.

Over the course of the next year, Harvey Ashthorne was quickly becoming known as the villain turned hero. At first it was small things: picking up trash on his way to and from work, nodding politely at the neighbors who passed him by on the streets, and throwing toys lost by children when they were kicked or thrown down the road. It didn't take long, however, for this new obligation to become a sort of habit. As his good deeds became more like second nature to him, he slowly but surely began to forget what it was like to be greedy and onry in the first place. Long-time neighbors were, unsurprisingly, shocked and confused by Harvey's sudden attitude shift. New neighbors and visitors to Boston were welcomed by him, and took a great liking to him.

By the beginning of '35, Harvey had almost completely forgotten about the cloaked figure, and why he was being kind in the first place. It had become so deeply ingrained in his ritual that it was just instinctual at that point. That is, until May 13th, 1935.

Harvey was sitting out on his porch in the afternoon. The heat had finally started to pick up, and there was a group of children playing across the street. Suddenly, as if a lightning bolt had struck him where he sat, he felt a rush of discomfort and dread. He looked out into the road, holding his head in dizziness, when time suddenly felt like it had frozen. He saw an incoming car rushing down the road, the driver completely unaware that he was careening towards a young child out in the road, trying to catch a ball rolling away from her.

Without a moment of thought, Harvey rushed into the scene. He ran as fast as he could towards the child, screaming and yelling at her to get out of the way. The child looked up, frightened, and saw the car mere feet away from her. She screamed, and moments later, Harvey pushed her out of the way, and out of danger.

And at that moment, he knew.

The stranger's prediction was correct.