#saphixwrites

Who am I? I crossed the street and came across a theater, I liked the music I heard within. Maybe I was a musician? So I took up an instrument and joined a band. Many others knew which instrument they liked but I did not. While they practiced every day I only practiced once a week. They became so much better than me much more quickly, soon I was no longer able to keep up. Perhaps, I thought, I was not a musician.

I walked to the local library, there I read a book. I liked the book and thought that maybe I could be a writer? So I put my pen to the paper, and once a month I wrote a poem for a year. Other writers whom I met had written novels, they had put in the work day after day and had something great to show for their efforts. All I had were a few poems that no one read but I liked to look back at from time to time. Perhaps, I thought, I was not a writer.

Then I realized I gave much of my time to others, I thought I was generous. So I set out to find others who were generous, others who helped people. Some of them gave every second they had to helping others, I could never keep up with their pace. Perhaps, I thought, I am not so generous.

Maybe, I thought, I am kind? I found people I thought I could help. I offered them my ear, and I gave their worries a listen. They told me so many things. Some things I wish I had not heard. Some things I felt I should speak to them about. Then, I thought, perhaps I am not so kind.

I sat in a park for a long time as I thought. I thought of all the things I thought I might be, a musician, a writer, someone who was generous, and someone who was kind. All of these I thought I might be, but I am not any one of these things I have come to see.

I am someone who enjoys music but I am not devoted to it. I am someone who enjoys writing but it is not so much a passion as a hobby. I am generous but I am not selfless. I am kind but I am not blind.

I am all of these things, but I am not so much of these things that I am one of them. I wondered for some time who I am, I searched for someone like me but I could not find a single person. I realized I am not like any other person. So, I asked myself again, who am I?

Birds chirp as they fly between treetops.

Orange, gold, brown, leaves sway with the blowing of the wind.

Hooves of a horse clap against the stonework of the road with a satisfying click as if a musical tune, echoing.

Wood snaps, crash of crates and boxes against the stone, horses neigh loudly. Birds cease their flight. The sound of the wind disappears under the swearing of a man,

“Y’ve gon’ and don’ it now Paulie, gon’ and don’ it ‘gain,” the larger, rotund man rose high from his pedestal at the front of the carriage. Straight up, unburdened by the reigns.

Calming the horses, holding the reigns tight, was that of the smaller man, lanky and dressed in last year’s clothes that belonged even then to the year before that. “I.. I,” he stammers as he focuses on calming the horses. Calling out to them, shushing them gently. It pained him to see them like this.

“I, I,” the larger man repeated back at him mockingly. “Y’ weren’t thinkin’ Paulie, that’s what y’ were doin’, not bloody watchin’ the road like y’ were supposed ta, and look’in what you gon’ and done now. Why I oughta tell the boss what y’ gon’ and done again.”

“I-it-weren’t me last t-time Jaune, y-you know-“Jaune turned violently to face, Paulie throwing him nearly backward off the wagon.

“What is it I know Paulie, what is it why don’ you tell me?”

Paulie let go of the reigns, held the side of the cart and pulled himself back atop it- “N-nothing Jaune, nothin’ I-I didn’ mean nothin’ by it, just that-“

“Just nothing, right?” Jaune said, crossing his large arms over his broad chest.

“R-right Jaune.. j-just nothin’,” Paulie resigned as he settled the horses further, saw to the reigns.

“Bloody right,” Jaune snorted, stepping back down off the wagon carefully, using the front wheel for support. Finding it a slow and arduous process on account of his massive size.

Leaves cracked underneath his boot, every step toward the rear of the wagon was announced with the pronounced sound of autumn. Groaning over the exertion Jaune lowered himself to check the cart. It was the back right wheel, it had cracked in two in a most uneven way because of the misplaced broken stones along the path.

“Wheel’s all bent outta shape,” he barked back toward the front, where Paulie yet remained.”Yer gonna have to go inta the forest, find us some sticks and wood, can ya do that Paulie? Can ya do at least that?”

Paulie came about from the back of the wagon, forcing Jaune onto his back foot from the fright, “Why you want me to go and do that Jaune? To fix the wagon?”

“No!” he shouted, temper leaking into his voice. Heart racing from Paulie’s suddenness. “For a fire Paulie, we ain’t gonna be risking movin’ this wagon out in the dark. Not like this. Cracks anymore and we’ll be stranded out on the side ‘f the road in the dark, and I don’t need tah tell you how bad that is, do I Paulie?”

“N-no Jaune…”

“Well, then get to it!” Jaune barked.