Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
He sat in the center of the third row, the person nearest the screen in the movie theater. It was a weekday, and he was attending a matinee of the country’s newest blockbuster, which typically attracted teenaged-girls and their mothers. His massive arms snaked from the sleeveless shirt to claim the backs of the seats on either side of him. His friend sat two seats to his left, following some male rule about not sitting side-by-side in public places.
There was no movement, no conversation. Just a slumped individual, baseball cap fixed straight, staring at inane advertising on the screen.
As the theater’s lights, sound and visuals led the audience toward the promised viewing experience, the already quiet gathering of spring break viewers settled in. The trailers began, booming and blinding the audience, using the tried-and-true methods of stirring young male testosterone into guaranteed ticket sales on opening night. As superheroes and monsters were revealed, the young man’s arms brought his hands to his face, in a sort of prayer to the action movie gods. His stoic face was transformed; the inner child had awoken, forcing a grateful grin and a small fist pump as the title and release date flashed on the screen. He rubbed his hands together, turned to his friend and whispered “yes!” loud enough for the rest of the theater to hear.
The ensuing trailers were replays of the first. Too much movement, too much noise, too many explosions. With each, the man-child sat at attention, delirious with the anticipation of so many good movies to escape to this summer.
He settled in to his seat as the blockbuster began. No more reactions. No more smiles. Just a sneeze halfway through movie. The inner child had returned to his slumber.
– Lafayette, Indiana
By Steven Lincoln.