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“Possibilities on a Winding Path” (standard:Inspirational stories, 6168 words) | |||
Author: kickboxrko | Added: Sep 13 2003 | Views/Reads: 3634/2479 | Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes) |
A story about a young, charismatic teenager, who has been given the chance of a lifetime. He can leave a mark in the world or he can blow it big time. This is his journey. It will be updated. | |||
Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story couldn't keep it to himself. He offended a local gang leader with his way with words. He needed his friend Pablo to get him out of it. He could always count on him to lend a hand. And he was right in thinking so. Pablo was always there to help him. No matter the situation. But Pablo could also dissipate many situations too. But no matter what he could do, it wouldn't help him this time. Pablo and Jose were walking down the Main Street, a block or two from Jose's home. As Pablo and Jose turned a corner, they walked dead on to the gang's hideout. Jesus, the leader of the gang, caught them and shouted for them to stop. “Hey, where ya goin big mouth?” he asked. “What's it to you man? Don't you got something better to do?” Pablo was astonished at Jose's bravado. Chuckling, Jesus replied “Don't get smart with me hombre, remember what I did to your face last time you talked smack? His face curled into a sneer, which was the position it usually was in. Jose didn't reply instead, hightailed it out of there. They both managed to run about a block before they were caught. The gang was older, and faster. At that time, Pablo's memories of the day were sharper then most memories he had. Thought that was probably because of the beating he took. All he remembered were them exchanging words, a glare came from Jesus, and the fight broke out. Though the two boys were slightly smaller and younger, they had one advantage over the gang. They were taught a style of fighting only found in South America called “Rohen”. It was a deadly art, and it saved their lives more then once. But this time, they were outnumbered. They fought anyway. Pablo immediately changed into his “kanta” stance. One of the boys rushed at him with a shoulder charge. At the last second, Pablo sidestepped and delivered a fierce blow as a gift for the unsuccessful attack. One boy was out. At the same time, Jose was attacked with a choke. Chokes were extremely hard to get out of. But Jose took his training seriously, and delivered a head shot to the attacker's nose, breaking it instantly. As Jose was regaining his senses, one of the remaining attackers brandished a knife from his worn out boots. In this situation, Jose was warned never to let them swipe, or better yet, don't fight it. Not if you have to. But Jose had no choice. The knife came at him faster then he could move, and he was sliced up in the arm. Pablo tried to help his friend, but he in return received a knee shot to the nose. The blood stained the ground. Pain rushed into Pablo's mind, and he almost lost consciousness. He knew though, that his friend needed him, so he stayed fought the overwhelming desire to pass out. He delivered a fierce kick to the knife attacker's groin, followed by an elbow strike to a pressure point directly underneath his armpit. That crippled him. Now there were only two attackers left, the leader, and one more goon. But they were both losing consciousness. And the gash Jose received wasn't healing at all. The blood kept coming, and was followed by a river of pain and . They knew they had to act fast. Run if they could, they had done all they were able. But Jose was in no condition to run, and he too was losing consciousness. Pablo acted fast, and pleaded with the leader to let them go. But the leader's anger was too much. He signaled to his last goon. The goon punched Jose in his injury. Jose screamed out in pain. It was horrible to listen to. It was too agonizing for his friend Pablo. Pablo then made a horrible mistake. For one moment, he closed his eyes. Before he knew it, he was reeling in pain, blood stained on his clothes, and he was lying on the street. He lost consciousness this time, and the last thing he saw was his friend being surrounded. They made a circle around him, closing in, like a pack of hungry lionesses! He faded to black, and returned to reality. Chapter 2 Pablo visibly straightened himself. He had to focus and, he couldn't keep strolling down memory lane anymore. Now was not the time. Something big was happening in his life, and it all had started a week ago. He had been kicking back on his couch, drinking a refreshing, ice cold cup of lemonade, and some salty pretzels. While watching the news on television, a news alert had popped up. It showed another violent attack in the Middle East. A group of Palestinians had high jacked a bus and planted it with their own bomb. There were helpless people inside that bus, but the group didn't care. They drove the bus head on towards a local restaurant and it had exploded in a ball of fire. The first to arrive at the scene only saw smoke and the bones stripped raw on the streets. In retaliation for the attack, a group of Islam's took hold of a local school and threatened to blow it up. This time, fortunately, a group of elite police force was sent in, and was specifically ordered to neutralize the threat. It was a medium size school, which was rare. School was halfway through, and the kids were itching to run home. But at around 12:45, a group of nine, raided the school and shepherded all of the students and faculty into the largest room in the school, the auditorium. It was large for them, but to give realistic estimation, it was actually about half the size of a small auditorium in the States. There were six, small, dingy windows, and a catwalk. The ceiling was about thirty three feet from the ground, and was laced with a series of metallic catwalks. There were only three doors that gave access to the auditorium. One was a double steel door, located in the front of the auditorium. The second door was a red fire escape door, and if opened an alarm went off. This door was located on stage and was being secured by two of the terrorists. Two other were guarding the front door. The third door was much smaller then the other two and was unknown to the terrorists. It was located above them, and gave access to the roof. The terrorist's demands were the same each time. Control over the Holy Land, and the removal of the Palestinian's. This was a common scene to the police, but they still needed to keep order, and ensure the safety of every citizen in that auditorium. There were no qualified police negotiators at the time, so the head police officer was instructed to communicate with the terrorist and try to work out a safe agreement. But the group would not make negations at all, and threatened to kill two people every hour if their demands were not met. Their threat was taken very seriously. The police knew what they had to do. There was no choice, but it was still very risky. The special elite task force was ordered to quell the problem. The command leader ordered up blueprints for the school. He discovered the one door that lead to the catwalks hanging from the ceiling. He would use that to his advantage. But of course he wasn't sure if it was guarded. Any attempt made to neutralize any of the terrorists would surely lead to the deaths of all the people trapped inside. The command leader knew this risk and decided to risk it. He had no choice. So he sent his best recon sniper through the roof and ordered to stay in position behind the rooftop door. The command to move inside and take position would be codenamed “Charlie”. Time was running out. It had already been exactly fifty-three minutes, and he knew they would stay good on their threat. The sweat was dripping down the squad commander's brow'. At exactly fifty-seven minutes, the leader gave the codeword over radio “Charlie”. The sniper moved into position. He had five more members, including himself. At fifty-minutes, the terrorists phoned in, asking if their demands were not met. The police chief tried to buy more time, but the terrorist knew they wouldn't receive their demands. Exactly one minute later, reconnaissance photos taken by using one of the top windows, showed the group's leader dragging two adults into the stage. They were then forced to their knees. At that second it seemed, one of the children let out a cry, and this enraged the group leader. He dragged the young boy, who by the looks of it, looked no more then ten, and forced him to kneel with them. He ordered the weapons to be pointed at their heads. Meanwhile, at the exact moment when the elite police force captain received the photos, he knew he had to move. He ordered two of his men to take position outside each door, and at the codeword “Delta” to move in and neutralize all targets. This included the sniper already positioned on the catwalk. A look of fear passed over the captain's face, and in the brief second it came upon him, it was gone. It was replaced by certainty, or better yet, acceptance. He was accepting the risk, and accepting the possible failure of what he had to do. He deployed the button on the radio and gave the word. “Delta”. After that, everything happened in a rush. His two men at the fire escape door rushed in and used a teqnique called “stun and gun”. They threw in a stun grenade and rushed the terrorists. It happened all very quickly. They took out three guys before one of them took regained his senses and sprayed a line of fire at them. One man was shot in the stomach, while the other was immediately killed. The commander screamed at the sniper to take out the remaining targets and he did manage to take out two before the rest could find him. They pelted him with machine gun fire. The sniper was now quite dead. The remaining elite task consisted of three members. Two assault specialists and the captain. On this mission, the captain came in with them. They rushed through the front doors, banging them open. Using extreme precision, the captain took out the leader, but on his way down, he fell on the trigger of his gun. The bullets that sprayed out caused 3 children to drop. The remaining of the terrorist group gave up, and we're handcuffed away. The job was done, and it was far from a good plan. Everything went wrong, but the captain knew that from the beginning. Three of his team members were K.I.A., and they were all good men. But what was worse was the children. They shouldn't have been a part of this, and he would never forgive himself if they died. But sadly, only hours later, the results came in that two had died only minutes before, and the other was in critical condition. He might not make it. All that had happened, the captain retold to the camera crew. And now Pablo had watched it, thousands of miles away. He had remembered feeling the bile crawling up his throat. It gave him a sickening feeling, watching the events progress. He didn't understand why anyone would take such extreme measures to get what they wanted. He also wondered why this problem hadn't been already solved. It had been happening for hundreds of years, this senseless bloodshed. It affected everyone in the country, even the innocent. Those innocent were supposed to be the future. They were the children. The children either didn't understand the hate, or they were told who to hate by their fathers. They grew up with that hate, although they never questioned why. It was natural to them, and they would pass it on to their children. It was a cycle of inherited rage. Desperately and foolishly, many tried to lessen this incoherent rage. Their dreams of peace were crushed when they learned that a rage like that could never eased especially since it had been going on since the maps were drawn. Or at least that's what everybody believed. Pablo wondered if he would see something positive progress in his lifetime, and for a moment he believed he would. Images started to form in his mind, and he let the images dwell there. He dreamt of a place where the overwhelming peace in the world was a real thing. Where you could turn on the television and hear stories of inspiration, not violence. Where you could walk to a store and not worry about being offended at being called any racial slurs. Where in schools, you could learn in security, and you could feel safe. You could talk to your friends about other things then the fight third period. Where greed didn't have a firm grip on the world. Without greed to posses the lives of so many, the human race could focus on other things. They could look to the stars once again, and dream. Then they could finally make that dream a reality. They could travel from star to star, and explore the universe. No more wars, no more thirst for blood and money. That overwhelming peace could only be imagined, Pablo thought. That time might never come. Pablo plunged his fork into the sizzling bacon, and took a bite. He let the pleasure that came from eating such great food seep through every pore in his body. But the feeling of pleasure was quickly replaced. Images were forming in his mind, and he just let them come. He wasn't sure what it was though. He saw a dark road. There was a storm overhead. A river of blood flowed by the road. The sky then turned rain. But he traveled down this road, and came to a bridge. It was an old bridge, laid carefully with stones. It crossed the river of blood, and at the end of the bridge, the sky turned blue, and the river turned clear. As quick as the vision/dream took him, it was just as quickly gone. Even as he was trying to understand it, it was quickly fading. But he knew that eventually the answer would come to him. It always did. He'd had these kind of dreams before, and he was still trying to figure out why they came, or why they came to him anyway. While he was contemplating these thoughts, his mother, Maria Nunes, called him down in a hurried tone. Chapter 3 She sounded excited. Pablo yelled back, “I'll be down in a sec mom!” But she was very persistent and urged him to come down immediately. “Okay, Okay I'm coming!!” he shouted hoarsely. He ran down the stairs to meet the overjoyed, yet puzzled look on his mothers face. “It's for you. His name is Wayne Lloyd. Ambassador Wayne Lloyd!” “He wants to talk to you!!” Pablo felt awed, surprised, yet also strangely relaxed. He picked up the phone. “Hello? Pablo Nunes? Hi, my name is Wayne Lloyd and I'm an Ambassador to the President of the United States of America. We've read your letter you've submitted, and frankly we're excited. Excited enough to ask you to come visit us in the White House, where we will discuss big plans for you. You see, the letter you wrote, was personally read by the President himself. His own words were, “This is pretty good damn stuff! This is definitely good stuff!!” “He feels that your ideas are great, but the rest of the staff is skeptical. It says here on the form that you're 16 years old? Well Pablo, for a 16yr old you've got some pretty amazing ideas. But can you follow through? It's a pretty daunting task, and even now I remain skeptical it can be done. But you show remarkable ability, and I think it's possible. Not probable, but possible.” “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?!?” Throughout the entire conversation, Pablo was barely listening. He felt he was being lied to. He had a good idea of what Mr. Lloyd was going to ask. He just didn't believe it. In the first few seconds of the conversation, he had no idea what Mr. Lloyd was talking about. But then it came to him. It happened a few months back. In a moment of inspiration, while watching the news, Pablo started writing. His writing at the time we're just idea's, but he had to get them down, or he would forget. At the time, they were just thrown together onto paper. They came out at him in a blur, and it was all he could do to throw them onto paper. After he ran out of the ideas, Pablo just stared at the paper at while, and wondered what he could do to it. After discussing his idea's with his history teacher, he decided to form it into a coherent letter, and send it to the President. It was just a crazy idea at the time, and he had no idea it would go so far. It was about the Middle East, and how to stop the violence. If peace could be brought, the world would change dramatically. Nothing would ever be the same. It would be a new era in humanity. Because the Middle East and their problems are so far away, we tend to be detached towards them. We believe it doesn't affect us. But it does, because everything affects us, some in little ways, some in great ways. Just because the problems aren't close to home, doesn't mean they don't exist. Pablo understood this, in a very big way. Now, some silly idea he had, was coming alive, and it had come looking for him. He knew his life was changed, now and forever. “Thank you Mr. Lloyd, I would be delighted to visit the capital of our country. When can we meet?” Pablo inquired. “Well Pablo, he said chuckling, I knew you couldn't resist the chance of a lifetime. I've already sent plane tickets and for you and your mother. There on their way, and should be there tomorrow.” “Is that too soon?” he added with a carefully restrained, almost impatient tone. “No, Mr. Lloyd, I'm sure my mother will agree that this is special chance. A chance of many lifetimes, that I'm sure no one would turn down. I'll be seeing you then, in two days. Thank you for giving me this chance, you will never know what this means to me Mr. Lloyd” “You're thanking me, Mr. Nunes? If what you say is possible, it will change the very future. Your kids will live in such a different, yet amazing time. I envy them. I'll be seeing you in two days then. God speed” And he hung up. Pablo slowly put the phone down and turned to his mother. She had a tear rolling down the eye, only the beginning of a long river of tears that would ensue. But she managed to maintain her composure for the moment long enough to say a few words. “Son, this changes so many things. You have a chance, my little boy, to change things. God blessed you with a gift. You're articulate, intelligent, and have a way with words. You can melt turn the coldest heart into the tiniest tear. People in the world are born, grow, get jobs, have a family, and die. That's the sad truth of it. But you're something out of the ordinary. Don't waste such a gift, make me proud” Maria said, in between tears. Pablo didn't have to say anything. Words couldn't convey his joy anyway. The look on his face said it all, so there was nothing to say. A smile cascaded across his face, and he hugged his mom. There was so much to do in day he had. Things to pack, friends to call. It was total mayhem, and a bit unfair to Pablo and his mother. But he wasn't about to complain. The day was almost as chaotic as the ride their. The traffic sent Pablo and his mother to a grinding halt. There was no way they would make the flight in time. But when all seemed inevitable, a slot opened up in the gridlock of cars and they blew past. They made the flight at the last possible moment, and were the last ones to board the plane. They were surprised to have second class, a notable step up from the usually dingy smell that lingered in the air in coach. When they finally sat down, Maria turned to her son. “So now what, do you know what you're gonna say and do? What do you want to achieve anyway? Do you have any plans son? After the assault of questions was over, he simply replied, “I have no idea at all Mom. This was a blessing, and I'm just gonna go with the flow. See what happens, ya know? I guess I'll just repeat what I said in the letter and tell him my ideas. This is a long shot, so I'm not going to expect a lot from it. Less chance of me being blown away when I realize my dreams can't come true. I'm protected, if you know what I mean. He settled back in his chair, and sipped his coffee. Maria gave her son a long, hard look. She tried to understand how and why this was happening. She knew her son was special, but he didn't know much about the world. But then this opportunity rang at her door, and she didn't know what to do with it. It was surely a blessing from god. She turned to get a look of her son, and she saw him staring out the window, lost in his own world. At that moment, a fiery burst of light erupted on his face. The falling star cast its final brilliance over the landscape. Slowly, the infinite blanket of the night was cast over the view. Silence infiltrated the plane, creeping along, row by row. The silence infiltrated the plane, creeping along, row by row. The eyes of the weary passengers descended along with their star, as if making its way down a bottomless lake. All that could be heard was the quiet hum of the engines. The night passed and the sun rised. Chapter 4 Pablo awoke refreshed and ready. Just as his eyes were rising from the depths of dreams, the pilot instructed his passengers to put on their seat belts. Excitement grew whey they realized they were landing. The loud screech of the heavy tires hitting asphalt, at incredible speeds, with a massive cargo on its back, the pane slowly rolled to a halt. The stairs were lowered and Pablo and his mother stepped out onto the awe inspiring capital of the country, D.C. He had stepped off from the highlight of his teenager years, and stepped on to the emergence of manhood. Maria ushered her son through the terminal hall and they emerged into the bustling city of the airport terminal, or more like the downtown side of a giant ant farm. They hurried through the electric crowd, wrestled with their luggage, and clambered through the doors. The glare of the sun forced them to take cover beneath the shade of their hands. A bead of sweat trickled down Pablo's forehead, and landed with a sizzle on the sidewalk. The hot Washington sun felt relenting yet refreshing. They hailed a taxi and Maria gave the driver the instructions to get to the hotel they were staying at, which Mr. Lloyd had personally arranged. On the way to the hotel, they passed Capitol Hill. Its crisp green lawns, and its short Victorian black fence sent its message. This was the capitol of the country and it deserved respect. Pablo couldn't take his eyes of it. They arrived at the cab, and as they stepped out, Maria pressed a bill into Pablo's hand told him that she'll be inside, and to give the cabbie a tip. Turning around, Pablo gave the cabbie a short nod and a smile. As he reached through the window to give the man his rightfully deserved tip, the cabbie gave Pablo a strange look. He had unsettling green eyes, unusual for a man that seemed to have a Middle Eastern look. The cabbie only replied by saying “(Insert Muslim word for Allah has carved a path for you, safe journey young man.” Pablo's furry eyebrows curled into a puzzled look. But the man turned away and drove off. “Whatever he just said. Weirdo.” He grabbed the bags, of course, and half stumbled half hiked to the lobby. He was greeted by an attractive brunette with a nametag attached to her blouse which read “Chloe” She was clearly dressed for business but she had added her own flair to her outfit by adding a red silk scarf around her neck. It seemed almost as she was trying to act extra casual. “Pablo Nunes? Welcome to Washington. My name is Chloe Perrison and I am Ambassador Lloyd's personal secretary. He sent me here to get you acquainted with Washington before I take you to the Capitol building, where he'll be meeting you. Your room number is twenty one nineteen.” She handed him a key card. I'll give you a couple of minutes to unpack, and then I'll meet you down here to start the tour. Your mother is free to join, if she chooses.” “Alright, thank you Ms. Perrison, this feels so rushed. But I can't wait to meet Mr. Lloyd. He seems like a great guy” “That's the understatement of the year. In the world of corrupt politicians, Mr. Lloyd is a white plume. But I've read your letter. There's serious potential there, and it will be my pleasure to be your guide. I'll let you go. See you in fifteen okay?” She briskly walked away, and headed outside. With nothing to say, Pablo headed for his room. Not used to such luxuries as a hotel, especially an electronic key card, Pablo spent a good minute trying to open the door. With such a simple procedure leaving him frustrated, he knew he would have never normally fit into such an environment. But he was going to have to learn, yet not forget either. Inside he found his mother unpacking her suitcases. She turned to face him. “Have you met Ms. Perrison? Sweet young lady that one is. A bit to speedy for me, but nevertheless courteous. I'm sure you'll find a girl that in this beautiful state.” “Please mom, I wish” he heaved his suitcases on his bed and started to unpack. “Were going on a tour of the Washington area before we head for the Capitol, want to come?” “Sorry, but I'm not as young as you, stallion. I got to sleep of the jet lag, and then I'm going to treat myself to a nice, hot bubble bath. But have fun, and don't get nervous around a big shot like Mr. Lloyd. From what Ms. Perrison told me, he seems to be not affected at all by his power. Just be your self, and just tell him what you think and feel. You'll do fine. I promise.” She walked over to him, and gave him a motherly hug. “I'm proud of you no matter the outcome of this. Don't forget that okay?” “Sure mom, I know. He pried away from her grip and headed towards the door. Opening it he stepped out and shut it behind him. Then he opened it and stuck his head inside and said, “I'll make you proud anyways. I'll call later. Peace” The door slammed behind him. He suddenly got a feeling in his stomach, almost like butterflies but different. It was because he had a purpose now, and he intended to do it till the end. He walked to the hallway, but to him he never touched the floor. Chapter 5 The beep of the elevator woke Pablo from his trance. He walked towards the large, exquisite lobby, where he found Ms. Perrison in casual clothes. Khakis a revealing tank top, and a cap that said “Washington Boulevard, Street of the Country.” Yet she was still stunning. As if she radiated confidence, and every step was a step towards her predetermined fate, she walked over to him. “Hello. Are you ready to go Mr. Nunes?” So much for the casual look Pablo thought to himself. “Yea sure, bring it on. Where we going anyway? Lincoln statue, Capitol Building, what?” “Actually, how about something to eat? I know this little Cuban restaurant. It's on the house, and we have time for a bite” she said with a smile and with a flirty glance in her eyes. Almost as if she was hitting on him. That's crazy though, Pablo assured himself. “Yea sure, why not?” They walked outside into the warm Washington light. Not that he minded of course. She hailed a taxi, and almost like she commanded them to come to her, a taxi immediately stopped, backed up, and picked them up. Pablo gave the driver a quick glance to see if it was the creepy one from before. Not him though. “To Cuban Corner please” Ms. Harrison told the cabbie. They sped off. Pablo thought he would be seeing more of this Ms. Harrison so he engaged her in some small talk. “So, Ms. Harrison, do you have a first name if you don't mind me asking?” She laughed while adjusting her cap. “Yea I do. Its Penolope.” Pablo recognized the name. “That's Greek right? Pretty name.” She gave him a beaming smile, showing off her pearls, and said “Aren't you too young to be hitting on me? How old are you, like 10 or something?” “Actually, I'm turning seventeen Saturday. But then again how old are you? Twenty, twenty-one? You must be to get a job in Washington.” “I wish. Actually, I just turned 18. I skipped my Junior year in high school and graduated early. I was elected as the next Leader of America by my school, and through the principal, a few strings were pulled. Strings in my favor. Oh yea, my dad is a Senator here also. So that helps” It was his term to laugh. “Ah, so what's with the pompous, official business, attitude?” She looked out the window at the moving landscape. After a long moment, she turned to him. “My father told me act like that. It gives you respect he says. In a competitive place like Washington, you need all the tools you can get.” They had finally arrived at the restaurant. Thinking fast, Pablo got out of the cab first, and like a true gentleman, opened up her door. “Awww, that's sweet. But honey, if I needed men to do things for me, I'd be back in school, baking cookies and what not. But it was sweet. Thank you” “No problem” he sheepishly answered. He was going to open the door for the restaurant but thought against it. They walked in to a small, dim room. The one captivating feature of the room were the walls. Or rather, what was on them. One hand drawn painting covered the whole wall. It was a painting of the city, and in the clouds, two hands met, and grabbed each other firmly. It was beautifully drawn. Tweet
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