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    Making Life Worth While
    Making Life Worth While
    Making Life Worth While
    Ebook107 pages1 hour

    Making Life Worth While

    By Christopher Archuleta

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    About this ebook

    After a decade of lonesome days, Travis Hilton finally gets hit with what he was trying to avoid as the evil people living in his small town begin to display their hatred toward him. Travis, cynical in the mind and forgiving in the heart, departs town to start a new life in the city. Despite the fact that his enemies follow him to his new life to enlighten him on a fact he was avoiding the whole time, Travis fights within himself to determine the reason why his enemies would bother to do make such irrational decisions. Throughout the months, his attention shifts from others to himself. With his attention shift comes a life shift.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherChristopher Archuleta
    Release dateDec 22, 2014
    ISBN9781311318770
    Making Life Worth While
    Author

    Christopher Archuleta

    16, of Illinois, Christopher Archuleta is not a writer but has written short stories in his spare time. Of his stories, the one that took almost a year's work he decided to publish so that way the time wouldn't be wasted.

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      Book preview

      Making Life Worth While - Christopher Archuleta

      Making Life Worth While

      Written by Christopher J Archuleta

      Published by Christopher J Archuleta at Smashwords

      Copyright 2014 Christopher J Archuleta

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

      Table of Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      CHAPTER ONE

      Filled past maximum capacity was the parking lot behind my apartment complex. Two drunkards were brawling and not one single person called for help or alerted the police. The combatants, as well as the crowd, came from the tavern nearby. The Sun had already set that night, and the safety that accompanies daylight set as well. A small town called Pine Grove was where I used to live. With only 3,200 people in town, everyone knew each other. People from Pine Grove looked at me as if I belonged somewhere else. Well, I actually did want to live somewhere else. That town had a different way of thinking than I did.

      Unless you’ve lost every single thing you have, wasting your life away with fighting is uncalled for. Since I’ve never held up one fist in public, everyone gave me nothing but silence. I was considered a faux pas despite the fact that the townspeople’s philosophy of fighting resulted in a bunch of beleaguered hospital workers. There was only one person in the entire town that liked me, whom I rarely saw. Special was she because she wasn’t violent to the point of stupidity either. This was because the entire town thought that violence was the answer. When the mailman used to come into the apartment complex, he looked confused as he stared into the second floor apartment where I used to live. The light brown, brick, two-story apartment was the same as all of the other ones in the complex, which is why I didn’t appreciate the mailman spending a lengthy time gawking into my window. Why me? Why my window? I knew exactly why, for when one person abhors another, there isn’t any confusion. I was glad I didn’t have him looking at me with his sorry face for long. He looked upon me with a superior pity, like how an amateur hunter stares at his kill until he enters a trance in which he ponders his ranking in the food chain. Then thinking about the bigger picture, he thinks about his position relative to the rest of mankind. Also, some guy who used to live across the street did the same thing as the mailman. Creepily, he would scope out my apartment as if he wanted to go inside. Like the mailman, the neighbor across the street saw me in an inferior manner. In short, I was surrounded by a lot of untrustworthy people.

      Anyway, I didn’t call the police to stop the scuffle because they didn’t treat me right either. Until that one night, I didn’t care about not having any friends in town because I had all of my necessities. I didn’t think I needed anybody. My plan was to deal with anything that came my way. That was probably the worst plan ever. The reason is that the police were corrupt just as much as the town and I let that get in the way of making the fight cease, which started to become intense.

      Fight, come on, let’s see some blood! one cheered.

      Quickly enough, fists were being thrown. There was punching, kicking, blocking, butting of heads. Soon, one unlucky bystander got punched. As much as he deserved getting punched for cheering, he was hurt and not one person cared. Because no one helped him, I ran outside and quickly took the man back into my lonesome and dark apartment. Not one person even noticed that I got him from the ruckus.

      Stiff was the harmed body that I put onto my small living room couch. He asked me for a bed, so I laid him on my bed in the bedroom. My hatred of the cops meant nothing when someone was in pain. They should’ve come quickly since they were only five blocks away. Once I called 911, I decided to go check on the victim. He seemed alright, so I went to go check the fight outside.

      The two fighters were still attacking each other, and there was a little puddle of blood in the middle of the parking lot near the manhole. To my surprise, everyone left the scene. In the distance was the echoing sound of sirens approaching. Once the fighters heard the sirens, they ran off in separate directions.

      I chased the fighter that I recognized as Henry Thornton. At 10:00 PM, it was hard to see him as he was sprinting north through the parking lot. He then made a swift diversion between two of the apartments. Worst of all, when I followed him out to the front street, the police were already leaving the apartment complex as if everything was said and done.

      Without much energy, I raced across the street, then between two more apartments, and ended up at the entrance/exit that led from Main St. to the complex. The road went in a circle that went around the apartments, so I beat the squad of cop cars to the exit. I decided to flag the cops down. Without realizing it, I passed up Thornton, as he was behind me. Nonetheless, he eventually ran around me so I couldn’t capture him and he sped toward the busy road.

      The squad approached me as I was trying to catch my breath. The first car’s window rolled down, which was when I realized I shouldn’t have called the cops. Benjamin Hollard was the officer that stifled with me the most. Our pasts were very dark before that moment, but this incident was about to beat them all. He looked at me with his blue eyes, but he swiftly put on his sunglasses. At nighttime, wearing sunglasses was unnecessary. Those glasses were meant to mask his eyes; the eyes that showed his true feelings about me that would explode like a caldera volcano that screams I HATE YOU if it weren’t for the glasses.

      He asked, What’s the problem? Why aren’t you in your home? He seemed very upset. Everything’s fine in your apartment.

      No, everything is not fine in my apartment, I said. Didn’t you see the injured guy on my bed?

      What guy are you talking about?

      The one that- screeching tires drowned out my voice as I glanced to my right to see a speeding white van without headlights on trying to slam the brakes. The vehicle was rushing toward Henry, who was in the middle of running across the street. The driver was slamming with all his might and was turning the wheel while Henry tried to stop himself, for they were on a collision course. This all happened within half of a second. Despite all of the efforts, they both reacted too late and Henry was brutally hit. From underneath a lamppost, I saw his ragdoll body fly 10 feet above the ground. Henry flew for sixty feet before landing onto the road back first. He slid further down the road once he landed from all of the momentum.

      An ambulance came and Henry was taken away. I never found out, but I think he was pronounced dead that night. Meanwhile, the driver was being questioned. All of the police were across the street interrogating the driver, including the cops that I was talking to prior to the crash. After looking both ways, I crossed the street to talk to the police.

      Why weren’t your headlights on? the sergeant asked the driver, who was without wrinkles but it seemed as if he would if it wasn’t for a plastic surgery. He was also making noticeable stutters while he was talking. On top of that, he kept rolling his eyes

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