Photo by Jorg Karg on Unsplash, modified by Zane Dickens

💯 Story Challenge

Here’s to the crazy ones

№46 — the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes

A boy looks at a man, and the man yells at the traffic. The traffic ignores the man. And the boy watches on.

There he goes yelling at the traffic again.

Every morning, a quarter past eight.

“You’re late, you’re late!”

The press is building up. The tension is climbing.
The lights are flashing and the rain is coming down sideways.

I step up to the bridge wall and look out over the seething masses.
I stand witness to the downfall.

The End is Nigh.

Each car tipping the scale in its own small way, creeping up unto the back of its leader. I watch the long snakes of glistening metal inch over slick black lanes of frigid tar, burning dinosaur krill and belching diamond gas.

You see me, you pass by, you forget me.

I yell on.

I remember a world that was different.
I remember being a boy, with a family and a future.