Writing Without the Me #9

Exercise #16 End It First

Another effort in my weekly(ish) attempt to become a better writer!

This one is pretty simple: start with an ending, then write the story which leads up to it. We are invited to come up with our own ending but are welcome to use the example provided, which is (of course) what I did. I’ll include it at the bottom of the page, along with some notes about writing this.

The Multitool

Ted knew the Universe had plans for him, so he was always careful to listen to Her when She spoke. At his last Long Stop a little bird had told him to go this way and not the other and so there’d been no uncertainty about his path for a long while now. He was riding north along a dusty road, somewhere in Tennesse, though he didn’t pay much mind to old boundaries. When his bike finally broke, the sign came to him with the same certainty as the hard grime of the road did when it rushed up to meet his face. He tumbled from the worn seat and landed in front of an abandoned restaurant. The old diner was hidden behind a cluster of scrubby trees that had, in more hopeful times, been planted in the middle of the large circular parking lot, along with the big “Burgers n’ Shakes” sign which sat atop a tall rusty pole.

Ted sat where he’d fallen, wiping blood and gravel from his face, looking at what would be his home for the days to come. He knew he would have to wait. He followed the signs. He knew where to go. But others were not as careful. They did not listen. Or worse, they heard but did not obey. They tried to ignore the Universe. But She would not be ignored for long. Ted knew that. But still. He often had to wait.

He dragged his bike off the road and covered it with some dry brush. He did not want the wrong people to come. That had happened before and it was unpleasant, for them all. He did not feel bad for it. Only sad, a little, maybe, that some people did not know how to listen.

It was easy to break into the restaurant. The last people who’d been here hadn’t expected to never return. Upon entering, he snatched a few surprised mice— lulled into complacency by an abundance of food and a lack of humans— and took care of them with a few quick motions of his hands and multitool. Food and shelter settled, he made a kind of bed with some creatively-arranged booths. A bundle of clean kitchen towels served as a pillow; a few aprons became a blanket. Ted had said goodbye to creature comforts long ago, but when the Universe provides only the foolish turn away.

Home Sweet Home

In the morning he hears a group of people on the road. They don’t look desperate, but they don’t look like they’re in a hurry to get anywhere, either. He watches as they file past in twos and threes. A few look past the trees and at the diner, but the sun is rising from behind the building now, and he’s hidden in the bright light like a lie within the truth. One of them sees his bike. Ted sees him see it, knows that’s exactly what he’s looking at, and he holds himself, tense, ready to act. The man stops and bends over to lift the bike up. A tightness builds in Ted’s chest. His fingers twitch around his multitool and his foot begins to tap. Softly, he repeats the words “it’s not worth it” as he watches the man inspect the bike, see the broken wheel, and decide against taking it. “No,” Ted whispers. “Not worth it at all.” The man drops the bike and goes to catch up with his companions. He’s the last human Ted sees for over a week.

It was mid-afternoon when the couple strolled into the parking lot as if they owned it. As if people still owned things like restaurants. Ted was occupied fixing his bike so he did not see them approaching the diner. When their shadow fell over his hands he looked up and made eye contact with the woman through the window. She screamed in shock. His impassive stare did not ease the tension. The man with her shouted a few choice curses and took a step back. 

“You’re too old!’ Ted shouted through the glass. “Go away!” He turned and walked away from them and into the darkness of the back of the restaurant where he had first broken in. By the time he circled around to the front of the place, the pair had regained their composure and were peering into the windows. “I told you, you’re too old. Now get before you get hurt!” 

They both jumped like they’d already forgotten he existed. “Too old?” said the woman, looking offended.

“What the hell are you talking about?” said the man.

“I’m talking about the children I’m waiting for the Universe to keep delivering unto me,” said Ted, “and you’re not them. You’re too old to be saved. But I can help the little ones. I know how to listen to the Universe and I have offered myself to be her tool. You would be wise to do the same.”

“Listen, you sick fuck, there might not be any laws anymore but you can’t go around hurting little kids,” said the man.

“I take care of the children because there are no laws. I keep them safe and teach them how to listen. Only they are young enough to understand.”

“Stop talking like that,” said the woman, “you’re freaking me out.”

“Yeah man what is up with you?”

“You don’t want to pay the price for the answer to that question.” 

“What?” said the woman. She is backing away now, “What do you mean?”

“It’s not worth it.”

The man, channeling the Universe, declares his intention to attack Ted before putting it into action. He screams “fuck you!” and pulls back his arm to throw a wild punch. Ted steps into the space as if the man had invited him in for a hug and jabs him in the throat with his multitool.
The woman screams again and runs away. In her fear and haste she bangs hard into that rusty metal pole holding up the “Burgers n’ Shakes” sign and slides to a rest at its bottom.

Ted eases the man to the ground, blood running everywhere. The man tries to talk, tries to lift his arms, but he’s too weak. 

“Shhh, it won’t be long now.” The man’s eyes flick up to Ted’s, fear and anger dancing on his face. “I’m here to protect the children from people like you. Angry, impatient, illiterate. How can you know what the Universe wants if you don’t know how to see the signs?”

Something else has the man’s attention. Something is happening. Ted wheels around to look behind him. A child. In the road. Coming closer. Curious but uncertain. All children can hear the Universe but most can’t figure out what She’s saying. 

Ted walks quickly to the child. His long legs and determination carry him as if he were riding a wave. The woman, conscious again, barely, screaming again, hoarsely, banging on the pole again, though this time with her fists, is warning the child to stay away. 

The sound of her pounding is suddenly replaced by the sound of metal, twisting and bending and giving way as the pole decides it’s had enough abuse and topples over.

The child, transfixed by the scene she’s stumbled upon, has stopped moving forward but is also not leaving. Just as she’s about to be crushed by a giant hamburger, Ted is there. He snatches her off her feet and they roll in an awkward ball on the ground as the sign shatters less than a foot away. 

Ted and the girl untangle and stand up and the woman is already on top of them. It’s her turn to grab the girl and she smothers her with kisses and tells her it’ll “be okay.”

“No time for that,” says Ted, “I need your help.” He looks at the girl and turns back toward the man. They both follow but Ted only addresses the girl. “Is this your father?”
She nods

“You’re going to help save his life.”

The girl never spoke a word the whole time they were together. But she listened. And learned. Her parents had wanted to leave right away but circumstances and desires had parted ways for them many miles ago. Hard to turn down a safe place to eat and sleep, impossible with an incapacitating wound.

 Ted was never once alone with the girl, but it didn’t matter. He acted like they were. Talked as if her parents weren’t there, telling her everything he thought she needed to know. From looking for signs from the Universe to the many practical uses of a multitool. He showed her how to pick a lock, skin a mouse, and, on the last morning of their short time together, how to fix a bicycle. After he repaired the broken wheel, Ted put it back on the bike and tightened it carefully. He picked up his backpack, hopped up on the worn seat and pedaled off. West this time.

The End

So this was pretty fun to write. I feel like this was really only funny in a meta way because it was such a juxtaposition from the tone of the provided ending:

I might not have gotten it right, but I tried to pull it from “young boy learns a valuable life lesson on his bike” to “gritty post-apocalypse story about a sociopath who believes the universe is talking to him.” I think it’s okay but it feels like it would need more editing if I wanted to submit it for anything. Maybe add jokes and make the tone lighter or go the opposite way and double down on the creepiness vibe. But at this point, I’m not even sure if it’s worth putting more work into it.

Anyway, this one was also good practice because I had to force myself to truncate the ending a bit and stop tweaking it in order to get it done and meet my (self-imposed) deadline. I hope you enjoyed reading it, and if you’ve made it this far, you’ve earned the right to tell me what you did or didn’t like about it!