There is a light that shines through every night,
That may heal the scars of those wounded.
For those Lost souls wandering, their path unclear,
A hand from the light, to draw them near.

Prisoners of the Light.. Act one.



It’s a matter of choices. The choice’s that you make in life in many ways define who you are. What kind of person are you anyway? What makes someone go left, when others go right? Forward, backwards, up, down. Choices. Some are good some are just bad from the very start.

He watches closely as the man at the end of the subway car sits calmly, his legs crossed at the knees. Almost too peaceful looking reading his news paper. The well manicured suit that he is wearing tells the young man that he may very well be rich. He nervously watches either end of the subway car looking for possible witnesses before he decides to stand and approach him. He puts his hand in his pocket and runs his trembling fingers over the grip of the .22 caliber pistol that is concealed in his jacket, the stranger sitting in front of him raises his eyes from the newspaper to meet his nervous stare, right before he pulls the pistol from its hiding place. The stranger remains calm, gently folding the newspaper into neat creases. He places it slowly on his lap, his eyes never leaving the young man standing before him brandishing the loaded Pistol.
“So. You’ve come here looking for prey eh?”
“Gimme your Money man! Don’t make me shoot you!”
He slowly smiles.
“I can’t make you do anything. Only you can do that. You are holding the weapon. The choice is one that only you can make not I.”
“I just want you to give me your money!”
“And what if I told you that I didn’t have any money ? That I spent it all on this suit? Would you then choose to kill me and take the suit because of its value?”
The youth pauses to consider the situation. The strangers hands move with speed that he has never seen taking the gun from him. And now the youth finds himself staring down the barrel of the very weapon that he was going to use on his intended victim.



“So. What now Boy? Now what are your choices?”
He slowly sits raising his hands, the fear returns to his eyes. But he says nothing.
“I’ve seen you, you know? A thousand times over boy. You woke up this morning, and decided that you needed something.. Food? Shelter?.. Drugs perhaps?”
He slowly eyes the youth, looking him up and down.
“No. you are too clean for that. You probably were just hungry. But you know what puzzle’s me here boy?”
He doesn’t answer.
“You couldn’t find the resources with which to feed that hunger in your belly, and yet you managed to find your way to a loaded weapon with which you chose to victimize another human being with“
“Are you gonna shoot me now Mister? Or am I going to jail?”
“No Boy. Those are not two of the options that I would like to consider here. How about I give you another chance to make the right choice?”
“Another Chance?”
“lets say you sit there, and I’ll sit here. Lets say I put the gun down at your feet, how many choices could you make then?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I count three. Do you know what they are?”
“I.”
“Tell me what they are.”
“You put the gun down by my feet. I could.. Pick it up and shoot you.”
“That’s one.”
“You put the gun down by my feet, I could get up and run into the next car and jump out at the 51st street exit and go back to where I came from.”
“That’s two.”
He pauses to think about the possible third choice that he could make.
“Y. You put the gun down by my feet.. I pick it up and hand it back to you?”
“And what would the significance of the third choice be?”
He slowly shakes his head.
“I’m not too sure.”
The stranger slowly leans forward placing the gun at the young mans feet, who in turn picks it up and hands it back to him.

“Choosing life over death. Hope over hopelessness. But it isn’t easy boy. The business of hope. Before hope can really help you, you have to first really want to be helped. You see boy, having someone reaching out to help you isn’t always enough, it takes two hands, one to reach and one to pull. Either you’re the one reaching or you’re the one that’s pulling someone out of that hopeless pit of darkness. Are you ready to talk to me now boy?”
Tears slowly form in the corners of his eyes.
“I don’t want to be a bad person man. I guess I just felt like it was the only way.”
The stranger stands and slowly extends his hand to the youth.
“Are you Reaching yet boy?”
He takes the strangers hand who slowly pulls him to his feet. The subway rumbles to a stop and the pair step out through the open doors onto the platform and begin to make their way to the street.
They walk on through the drizzle of rain for a few moments before they stop beside the Teal river. He slowly reaches into his pocket and pulls out the pistol holding it in flat on his palm looking down at the youth.
“So. What do we do with this now?”
The young man looks up at him and then down at the gun. He takes it from the stranger and throws it angrily into the river. they share a brief smile and turn towards fifth street. The youth extends his hand to him.
“By the way man. My name is Paco. What’s yours?”
“Uriel.”
“Man.. I’m really sorry that I tried to rob you. Its just that like you said, I made the wrong choice I guess.”
The man he now knows as Uriel, puts his hand on Paco’s shoulder.
“What do you say we go get you fed Paco?.”

~Scratch. A.B.T. Copyright © 2008.~





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