جمعه 18 تیر‌ماه سال 1389

a short story

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 Now Chris’s big day had finally arrived. Arrived with tiny snowflakes from the February sky. Those which vanish dark sides and points in the world for a while.

 White cloudy sky was smiling to Chris, look as if it was congratulating him for his great luck. That was all enough for an itinerant to get delightful of what just happened. The penniless guitar player could hear the god’s symphony, played by nature. A magnificent sound that could take away all sorrows and remind of a huge success.

He had been an itinerant since he could remember. Travelling from L.A to NY, to Washington, to Seatell, playing guitar for everyone or anyone to hear, with a cheap price. Only a penny was enough for him.

His life changed by a simple lottery ticket changed his life forever. He bought it when he realized he couldn’t let the dark autumn in his heart last forever so he bought one. Sure if wasn’t more expensive than those horrible, creepy lobsters which restaurants serve.

Chris had no home, but he could get the results by looking through a spotless window of a shop. It was then he realized he had won.

Just a few numbers changed his life. He bought a house first, then furniture, food, a car, a new guitar and a little withdraw in bank.

There is a tiny, thin edge between imagination and reality. The only difference is a simple sentence which says that: dreams never come true in reality.

Now I’m looking through a spotless window, staring at T.V, wondering whether those numbers belong to Chris or not. Yes or no, he won’t be here to check out. He died under the February snow of 2010. Everything I said about the prize was something I thought might happen if he was still alive. In fact, Chris’s big day had finally arrived not...