Down a Dark Alleyway

This is the first attempt for me publishing anything remotely fictional on this blog (unless you count the hyperbolic retellings of my life that have happened more than once). It is a one-shot piece that I thought up while walking down the alleyway that connects the building I work in to one of the parking lots (hence the title). I was very tired and so in a very thoughtful mood, and so that is where this came from. 

My forehead was damp and my hair felt hot to the touch. It was going to be another blistering day under the Oklahoma sun. There was not a cloud in the sky, and it looked like the day was going to be beautiful. Beautiful and deadly. I was very thankful for the water bottle I had packed that morning and for the cool, air-conditioned basement that waited for me on the other side of the alley. 

This alley lay tucked between two buildings. A large, sprawling lot spread out behind these buildings, and already it was filled with cars. One building was a doctor's office; the other a hospice-care facility. Across the street lay the hospital. Funny how all the medical facilities seemed to gather on the same block. In each building you discovered the decay and death of humanity. In the hospital, I knew, I found myself practically surrounded by this humanity; the weak, the sick, the dying, and the grieving. They all gathered there, and I saw all of them as I walked those long, chilly halls. I saw the family gathered in the waiting rooms. Some sat with their hands clasped together, staring into nothing, as they waited for news of their loved ones. Others gathered in tight clumps and whispered the terrible news to each other, always in hushed tones as if saying anything above a whisper would cause the worst to happen. There were also those who had been there day after day, week after week, and the waiting room was so familiar that they felt no need for reverent whispers. Their loved ones remained unchanged, and so they no longer openly feared what was to come. Instead they hid their fear under jokes and loud laughter. Then there were those who knew the worst was about to happen, who had seen the doctor and watched him shake his head over their loved one's condition. These stood weeping, holding one another's hands, and praying. They could do nothing else, and in their empty brokenness they ran to the only Being they knew could. Sometimes they gathered in the room of their dying friend and sang hymns, sometimes they prayed loudly in the halls. These were beautiful sights. 

I picked up my pace, eager to begin the long day ahead, and mounted the steps leading down from the lot into the alleyway. The steps were crooked and uneven. The fence surrounding the alleyway was torn in places; jagged chain-link fence gaped at me on one side, a forbidding brick wall loomed on the other. I bounced down the steps - I always bounce down stairs - and as I did I noticed a piece of cast-off trash strewn next to the brick wall. I wondered how it had gotten there. Perhaps a loiterer had tossed it there while taking a smoke. Perhaps it had blown across town and come to rest there. Perhaps it had been tossed and buffeted by the wind for many miles before stopping to rest next to the somber brick wall. What was the story behind that piece of trash, I wondered?

If it could speak, what kinds of things would it say to me? Who was the one to have tossed it aside, and what kind of life did they live?

And are we not all like so many pieces of trash? I wondered. We are tossed and buffeted by the winds of life, until we are left to rest in an alleyway. Is there more to this life than the mere chance of a gust of wind? Or are we abandoned to drift and float in this world on our own? There had to be more to life than mere chance and happenstance. As I thought back to every encounter, every conversation I had ever had, I descended into the cold depths of the hospital to begin my day. 

I emerged later after my shift. The sun had slipped away a long time ago and it was very dark out. I walked with my coworker back through that alleyway, now dark and forbidding. As we walked by, the lamps flickered on, sensing our movement in the darkness and lighting the alleyway.  Curious, I glanced over for a moment at the corner where the piece of trash had been lodged. It was no longer there. It had rested in that corner for a moment and then was gone. 
How like us, I pondered. We are here but for a moment, and then we fly away and are gone. Yes, there must be more to us than this moment. We blink, and our lives are changed. Yet we continue to blink, until we step out of this moment and are ushered into eternity.