Writing Prompt #11

 

After years mostly dormant, I am attempting to work myself into being a writer again. To that end, I did a simple Google search for "writing prompts" and chose the first link listed, which included a total of 20 prompts. My goal is to write from a new prompt each day, giving myself 10 minutes before calling "hands up, utensils down" (so to speak), and then posting the unedited result in this blog. The post below is today's entry.

 

"Write about something nice a stranger did for you."

 

It was late on a Saturday night in the fall of 2003, and I was lost.

 

Well, I knew where I was geographically—at the viaduct where Union and Poplar Avenues swap their north-south positions, and specifically at the apex of the bridge on Poplar above the railroad tracks. I was just under halfway drunk, and I was looking down at the train that was passing below.

 

“Don’t do it!” said a calm but stern voice behind me.

 

I turned around to see a woman in a car that had stopped right behind me. I didn’t hear her approaching; her command startled me into slightly greater sobriety.

 

Mind you, I was not planning to jump. I wasn’t even thinking of it. But my mind and heart were midnight dark. I had spent the last 45 minutes or so walking from Zinnie’s East on Madison in Midtown toward my home in East Memphis. My pickup truck was still in the Zinnie’s parking lot. I probably did not need to be driving anyway, but I didn’t set out walking for safety’s sake. I had spent the evening at Zinnie’s East with a friend with whom I was infatuated. I knew she didn’t have similar feelings for me, but instead of giving myself distance to disentangle the friendship from the heartache, I continued to hang out with her regularly, trying to rise above or ignore the feelings we both knew I had for her, feelings that would not die when I tried to bury them but would instead break through in bursts of resentment or petulance. After a night of feigning friendliness, I snapped just after we part ways, and as I approached my truck, I decided to just keep walking past it into the night. The train was a welcome distraction from my thoughts.

 

“Don’t do it,” the stranger said again, more softly this time. Then, “Are you ok?

 

After hesitating slightly, I approached her car and then told her some version of the truth. I managed to assure her that, no, I wasn’t set on deliberate self-harm.

 

Once I’d done that, she asked, “Do you want a ride home?

 

I was still probably an hour and a half’s walk from my house. “Yeah,” I replied. “That’d be great.”

 

We chatted a little bit. At some point, we realized we had a mutual acquaintance, who we discussed briefly. I don’t recall what we talked about except for that, though. When we reached my house, I thanked her. 

 

I wish I could remember her name. I do remember her kindness.

 

Thank you again, my Guardian Angel.