Dead, Not Gone

It was a cool autumn afternoon during which Carnell walked home. The cold air snipped at his face and nibbled his ears, but his windbreaker jacket and black scarf guarded his neck against the aggressive breeze. The sun sprayed rays from behind him and threw its bright light into the second-floor windows of all the row houses that surrounded him while shrouding the street and sidewalks into shadowy darkness. In this darkness, Carnell could see his breath as it drifted away from him in smoky puffs while his legs carried him down the street.

The cold was the main thing that was on Carnell's mind. He didn't like it. He preferred the warm autumn that he had been born to in Florida. He missed the balmy trees and the warm cement. He hated the sharp cold air and frozen fingertips. If it had been up to him, Carnell would've remained curled up in his bed, under his covers, watching this Youtube video about dinosaurs.

Not that Carnell was the type of preteen who liked dinosaurs or anything; he was just fascinated with the way their bones lasted forever. The idea was just too absurd for Carnell to accept, but it was true because the bones were on display for all to see down in DC at the museums. Carnell's school had taken a trip to one of those museums last week, and--even though some people did say the bones were fake--Carnell couldn't help but imagine the possibility of his bones outlasting his life; and the people of the future excavating his bones out of some graveyard plot, putting it all back together to then dump him into a display like this. People would walk by see his name on a metal plaque right next to the case, and nod their heads in approval. It would be kind of like living forever. His flesh and brain might be gone, but here his body was, a testament to who he was in his time and where he came from.

Carnell reached an intersection where the houses ended and a busy street stretched perpendicular to the small street he had walked down. There was a liquor store and a corner store on this corner. A couple of empty doorways down to the left of the corner store was a carryout. The corner store was across the intersection and took up a large portion of the building it was housed in. Carnell wondered if, not the owner, who lived above the store and if they got discounts.

The store itself was old and the wooden windows with their peeling gray paint seemed to sag towards the ground. A large neon yellow sign hung across the building's wall; it was directed towards the street and advertised the cheapest prices for snacks, soda, and "stuf". The store's name, Fairmount & 12th, was just the names of the street corners it sat on. There were bars on the inside of the windows that clouded any view one could expect to have into the store unless you stood right at the windows and peered in. The only door was a wide glass door with the matching bars and it had a bell on it that jingled shrilly anytime anyone disturbed it.

This was Carnell's destination. His mother had dragged him out from under the covers and sent him down to the store with a list and two 5-dollar bills. She did not care that Carnell didn't like the cold and she explained why she had slaved away for him to have a nice coat and scarf to wear when outside. Carnell had to go anyway because there was no one else around to watch his toddler siblings (especially since he wouldn't do it) and his mother definitely didn't want to make a trip out of going to the store. She had later regaled him about his youth and strength, and how that made him the best candidate to go on this store run.

Carnell stood at the corner, watching the cars whip by, throwing up gusts of cold wind, itinerant leaves, and trash. There were no lights at this intersection so he had to wait until his chance to cross the street. Carnell took a step back once he realized there was a long line of cars on both sides of the street, and shoved his freezing hands into his pockets. He considered asking his mother to slave away to get him a pair of gloves too. The tips of his fingers felt like he had stuck them into a tub of ice-cold water.

"Hey, Carnell!" Carnell flinched and turned around to the corner house behind him. A group of men stood on the porch, sitting around in chairs or on whatever could be used as a chair. Their gray front door hung open and tauntingly offered Carnell a curious view of the home inside, but he didn't stress himself out to look. There were two boys descending from the porch to meet him on the stoop. They were both fellow preteens who attended the same middle school that Carnell now attended. Only one of them had accompanied Carnell on the trip, and that was the boy who had called out his name.