A Walk of Larry Chafer and Cherlese Chub
PROMPT: Fiction disproving a common wisdom. โHurt people hurt peopleโ in this instance.
Larry Chafter and Charlese Chub were dopplegangers, born and raised on two opposite sides of a big, wealthy town by the name of Solmniax. They both were short, stubby men with high voices, wide noses, and many freckles on their round, boyish faces. They werenโt all the same, however; Larry had hair of a darker hue, and he dug in mud everyday, while Charlese was blonde, and slightly taller. He was the son of the mayor! On a given summerโs day, they sat in a forest and watched the birds sing. Larry picked the dirt at his fingers on the east side of the great oak, distracted by the finches dancing above, sighing with sorrow for he was alone. Meanwhile, Charlese sat on the west side of the tree, seeking out shade. He knocked on his shoe, his thick eyebrows furrowed, trying to get the pebbles out, and gritted his teeth. Charlese thought of all the misfortunes heโd faced on his hike today; the scorching morning sun, the pesky sand on his path, the ants. Larry, also, began to reflect; heโd been sore from his work, only now finding time to venture out, still alone. Heโd wondered โjust where in life have I turned wrong?โ grieving the loss of what couldโve been, pondering about the indifference of life.
Larry had always been a working man. His earliest memory is that of digging up weeds with his father; a man who was tall and dark, not resembling him at all, but one that took Larry in anyhow, out of the pure kindness of his heart. However, even the bitter sweet warmth of that old memory would soon fade, as it was not long until his father had to leave Larry to fend for his own. This second abandonment was not due to a lack of love. It was merely an unfortunate fact that the poor of Solmniax were often found motionless on their own kitchen floor. With Mr.Chafer gone, the family turned their backs. Larry was not one of them, never one of them, and they pushed him right out. Then, Larry had tried to meet better folks, but because he was small people felt it was right to kick him around. Having been chased out of all local social matters, he began his own work, grueling work. By himself he would tend to the fields and in turn get a few pennies to live. Such was the life of a Solmniax farmer.
Charlese, in contrast, barely thought of his past. Despite what heโd tell you there were not many true troubles which haunted a man like himself. Charlese could recall a few days here and there when his coat was washed wrong, or the soup was too cold. Being born into wealth as the talk of the town, Charlese would eat the food which Larry would nurture without a moment of pondering about where it has come from. Charlese had it all; fame, wealth, and of course, friends. Not true friends at all, but he was no true friend, either. Charlese had everything that he found value in. Everything that would make his life fairly easy.
And now in the forest these men shared a moment. They both sat and listened to the finches sing. Larry looked at one pair, a smile curled on his face. Yes, life was rough, but hopeless it was not. There seemed to clearly be plenty of beauty in it, and Larry found joy in focusing on it. Charlese, meanwhile, still dug in his shoe. The finches above were grating to his senses. Couldnโt they see that he needed space? Couldnโt they consider his need for silence? Finally, Charlese shook out a rocky conglomerate. It fell on his toe, so he cursed and hopped in pain. โPew! Pew! Pew!โ the Finches would sing again, and that was the last straw for poor old Charlese. He picked up the rock and without a moment of deliberation he hurled it at the birds and knocked two of them down. โA-HA!โ he celebrated, quickly cheered up. He slid on his shoe and continued on. Larry saw Charlese skip away, but had no courage at all to yell or confront him. All he could do is frown once again, and turn back in defeat. Heโll admire more beauty next time, unlikely to happen, but maybe tomorrow.
