Random people, I won the award for original short story in a foreign language (English) once again this year (that means two in a roll so far (undefined happy dance)). Yes, I'm quite glad I did as this year so far has been tough for me and actually winning something is like a beam of light through the oh-so-long-lasting suck I had to (and am continuing to) go through in the 11th grade... So, this is the piece I won the award for - it's a little grim, yet I think it's likeable :D
The Life and Death of Vincent Goodwill
You know, I’ve only done three kind things in my life.
"Why the long face, pathetic scumbag?", one of them shouted while battering my torso with a rusty old monkey wrench as the other goon was holding me in an inescapable grip …
My mother … I think the first good thing would be my leaving her seventeen years after she had given birth to her only child. There wasn’t any grieving or sobbing or worrying from both sides, though. You see, my mother was ill. Her sickness had manifested two weeks after my birth. My father couldn’t take it so he left us and later on started a normal family with an ordinary gal for whom he built a small neat house in the suburbs. My mum and I went on to live in a poverty-stricken ghetto under one of the city bridges. It was where I learned to steal in order to survive and to survive in order to steal even more. My mother hated me for who I had become, yet she could not take care of herself and was forced to endure the sight of her bruised son coming home with a couple of apples under his ragged coat, which had always been way too big to fit him.
One of those dusky days, sometime between the morning quarrels and anger-fed slaps in the face, I made my first steps as a man leaving home long before the proper time had come. These were neither thought through nor soaked in fear. “Where will you go? What are you going to do?”, mother shouted as I was walking further away from her. “Mark my words, you good for nothing brat, you will be sorry! Sorry, I tell ya!” But I never was nor am now. Later on I was told she had soon after reunited with one of her ex-lovers, who had by then become an ever drunken lunatic. From what I understood, they lived together for two and a half months before he snapped and killed her in her sleep - grim happiness, but some happiness nonetheless.
"What happened, punk? Scared shitless? You should be!"
"Check his wallet, will you!"
Apparently they both wanted to make sure I had no good teeth left. I couldn’t make out which was worse – the thug’s boot, which was clashing into the back of my head, or the late night foggy harbor air - I’ve always hated the weather here …
My last step of wandering was before the cracked wooden doors of a village pub, where they did not pay you anything, yet offered food and shelter. I worked there for some time. I even made a few acquaintances, but nothing serious. One murky night outside the inn, as I was smoking a cigar I had stolen from an unconscious village drunk, I met the object of my soon-to-be second act of goodwill. She was no older than fifteen and wore rags which, however, somehow seemed nice on her. Her face was as smoke-black filthy as mine, with the difference that her eyes were something of a warm gold-like color – one I had never seen before. Her look penetrated the good-old darkness I had become accustomed to; her lips were covered by a scrap of fabric as far as I could tell. That night we shared the silence as well as the rest of my daily food supply.
Contrary to what I had expected, yet hoped for, we met once again on the same day a week later. This went on for several weeks, months, years. We never talked - we just enjoyed each other’s company. There wasn’t anything that was so important that it couldn’t wait for later anyways. With time, I would steal the most valuable thing I ever got to possess – a first kiss. I did not see her the week after that, or two weeks after that, for that matter. This was until she came through the pub's timeless wooden doors wearing a fancy dress as white as the moon on a clear sky, her face – even whiter and her lips scarlet red. “I’m sorry, I’ve found someone”, is what she said before she left. Afterwards, there were no tears, no anger – only a wish I had asked her name. Short-lasting happiness, yet happiness nonetheless.
”Look at him! Dead man walking… crawling, that is! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” is what I barely overheard while spitting blood on the cold and lifeless asphalt beneath me. They had now begun to put chains around my feet and hands.
After experiencing the bitter sweetness of my fist falling in love, I was determined to become successful at something … anything even. I wished someday I’d be able to buy a pretty girl a classy dress and maybe even call her my wife, if that was alright. You may find it hard to believe, but earning a fortune is somewhat troublesome without having a few friends in the high classes or any education, for that matter. However, everyone kept mentioning this New World far west, where gold was said to flow in rivers and everyone wore one of them suits. I did go there, did make some money, yet I could never find a suit that could fit me, you know. I came back home… God, it was weird calling it that way – never before had I considered here my home.
My third act of kindness was perhaps my most noteworthy – one of those slightly sunny days I didn’t often get to see, I went out and bought some poor young girl a little white dress. I didn’t do it for her, you see, it was thoroughly selfish – I did it to my own delight. Within a long span of ever-lasting misery what happiness it was. Life did go on, years did pass.
They dropped what was left of my body in the river. Soon after, I felt my inanimate feet touch the bottom. As I was breathing in rancid water mixed with my own blood, I couldn’t help but notice how simple life and death were. You live because of the papers in your pocket, you die because of the papers in your pocket … and your goodwill – trapped somewhere in-between.
Why am I telling you this? Well, I guess someone had to know my story. My name is Vincent Goodwill. It’s nice to have finally met you.
