Paul (standard:other, 2047 words)
Author: Anastasia	Added: Jul 15 2005	Views/Reads: 3337/2121	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is about a boy Paul, who descovers many friends in the world around him, but his father whom comes back for a a day or so remains a stranger.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Paul walks onto the street and does what Mrs. Launda has told him to do.
He asks passing by people who hardly listen to him, but so far nobody 
has responded back about the lost five dollar bill. 

“I think you can keep the money boy,” said an old man emerging from a
small cafe. 

“Oh. I wanted to see if anybody has lost it,” said Paul looking up at
the old man. 

“I think it's all right if you keep it, I mean I've been here watching
you through the window and all those grownups hurrying everywhere drop 
their money and don't even care, while you actually care if some poor 
person has lost it. I think you deserve to keep the money,” said the 
old man. 

“Thank you sir. I have to go back to work,” said Paul as the old man
nodded. 

Paul walks along the sidewalk thinking of instead of buying something
for himself, he ought to give the money to someone else. He cannot 
decide whom he should give it to. 

“So, Paul what will you buy?” asked Mrs. Launda. 

“I think I will give it to my little sister so she can buy some ice
creams or something. Wait that is perfect because she has wanted to 
learn spanish, but she doesn't know how and now she can buy a book. 
Marvelous!” said Paul. 

“You're such a nice boy. Now will you please help me put this bread in
the oven?” 

“Yes I'm sorry this whole money business has gotten me off track,” 

“It's all right you deserve the money, plus this place is practically
empty,” said Mrs. Launda. Paul laughed as he worked and Mrs. Launda 
taught him how to make her special french bread recipe. As he went home 
he thought about his good day, but he did not know what was coming up. 

It turned out that Paul's father has come home and he knew this because
their old red van was in the parking lot. Paul didn't know what to 
feel, fear or excitement or both. When he came inside he found his 
sisters on the couch, but only Daviny looked up from staring at the 
floor. 

“Daddy is back,” she said. 

“I know. Is he okay?” Paul asked sitting down on the arm chair of the
couch. 

“We don't know. They're outside smoking. We just came in from eating a
pie from the neighbors, Miss Loans and then we saw the car,” said 
Daviny. 

“Of coarse he's okay, why else.” said Maurie as her father entered the
living room. 

“Hello children,” he said with a smile, but the girls and Paul just
looked at him. 

“What? I don't come home for a while and you forget me?” asked the man
in front of his children. 

“Sorry daddy, how have you been?” asked Chisty the seventeen year-old
sister as she got up to give him a hug. 

“Well. I'm well.” he said. Then Daviny and Maurie also stood up to hug
their father. Paul's' mother just stood in the back round leaning 
against the wall watching everything go by. 

Paul's father looked at him and came over to the couch. He's really big 
thought Paul and he stood up and looked at the strangers eyes. 

“Hello father,” said Paul. The man nodded and put out his hand for Paul
to shake. Paul shook it, but not immediately. Paul always thinks before 
he does and this he thought about. He thought to himself who is this 
man standing before me? My father? No, but I look like him. Stranger. 
The children's father smiled and then decided to take everybody out for 
ice cream. Paul was quiet throughout most of the trip unless his 
sisters or his mom talked to him. 

Later that night Paul was in his room which consists of a bed, a trunk,
a lamp, a carpet and his beloved metal box. As Paul opened the box, he 
looked at the door from his bed hoping nobody would barge in and ask 
him to do something. Paul unlocked the box and lifted the blackish gray 
cover. There was a leather red covered journal, white paper, a pen, a 
set of short colored pencils, a mirror and a beaded necklace. That was 
it, but to Paul these things meant the world to him. The pen was to 
write in the journal and on the white paper. He liked the pen because 
it was permanent just like his memories. The journal and the paper were 
where his creations and stories await for him each day. Then there were 
the color pencils to brighten his world. He loved to draw and he loved 
to write. Paul wrote stories about a little boy or about a little girl 
and their adventures. He made them unexpected, happy and sometimes sad 
along with many other moods. Writing and drawing and dreaming of the 
world made Paul have a smile on his face every time he went to sleep. 

Paul woke up early to do his chores and he looked out to see if the car
was still there and it was. Paul didn't know what to think about his 
dad. Was he going to stay with the family and support them or was he to 
leave again without any notice. Later Paul went to work and this time 
he learned how to make a french baguette with Mrs. Launda. During work 
he reached into his pocket and pulled out the five dollar bill 
completely forgetting about it the day before. He reminded himself to 
give it to Daviny before he would loose it. 

When Paul walked home humming a song he heard a customer singing he was
surprised to see the red car gone. Maybe they went out somewhere he 
said to himself. When Paul entered the living room all he could see and 
hear was his mother weeping on the couch. Paul took one look at her and 
went over to hug her knowing she would want his support since he was 
the man of the family once and for all. 

“I knew he wasn't here to see us,” said Daviny as she was cleaning her
plate in the sink and Paul wiping the previous clean plate with a 
towel. 

“He was a stranger and he will remain one,” said Paul looking straight
into his sisters eyes as always when speaking. 

“You're right,” she said taking a deep breath. 

When Paul went to work the next day he wore the beads on his neck and
again he stepped on the one dollar bill. Unbelieving his eyes he picked 
it up and looked around same as last time. Then he heard a mans cough 
coming from the cafe. 

“Sir? Is this your money?” asked Paul. 

“No it's all yours. Again I saw someone drop it,” said the old man. 

“I'm sorry, but I don't believe you. I think this was set on purpose,”
he said. 

“Boy, why are you wearing those beads?” asked the old man from the cafe.


“They're sort of like praying beads, but I don't pray with them. My
younger sister made them for me and when I wear them I feel brave,” 
said Paul. 

“Those are good beads, you've got a good sister,” said the old man who
wasn't a stranger to Paul anymore. 

“I know,” said Paul smiling at the man. 

“That money is for you to buy enough color pencils and enough paper for
your next story,” 

“Yes. Thank You. But, my story never ended,” said Paul. 

“Okay” he said smiling as he said it. 

Paul walked away thanking the man knowing he will speak to him again. He
reached into his pocket and pulled out the mirror. He wanted to see 
himself smiling. Not because of the money. No Paul is not that kind of 
person. Paul smiles because of his metal box, his dreams and his life.


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