I saw another thread on here and it sparked a little creative writing bug in me. The following is the story that popped nigh fully-formed into my head. It's largely based upon the revelation I have towards the end - I actually had that moment for real.

It's really not very finished - I've penned it to get the idea out there and see what happens to it.

Anyway, I'll stop gushing and just give it to you:


There was a chap in my old town who lost everything overnight in a house fire - wife, two daughters (4 and 6), family home, pets, the works. In one evening, a gas leak and a faulty boiler - the house was a fireball before anyone even knew there was a problem. He came back from a night away to nothing left.

The insurance company barely paid out a penny. He had no address, no living family. He broke down. Lost his job, lost everything. He attempted suicide twice.

I met him in the library, he was reading Homer's illiad. I was talking to this guy every week for almost 6 months before I found out his story - when he opened up it was the first time I ever saw him without a smile on his face. He was living in a shelter near the centre of town.

This guy was amazing, he worked 12-hour days, 4 days a week as a dogs-body in a local garage, 2 days he spent working in the shelter he lived in and his day off he devoted to study. He wanted a degree in something, anything, so he started reading. He liked the old epics and so he learnt Greek. He enjoyed that so much he applied to read Classical Civilisations with the Open University. He'd also learned to play the Saxophone, Guitar, Violin and Piano.

I was in awe of this man - someone who lost everything and yet still found it in him to do all these things. After he told me his story I asked him how he did it, how he not only carried on but even went on learning all these new things. He didn't answer.

The next week, Wednesday 5:30pm. I saw him again, in the library, I found my book and went to sit with him as usual. He put his book down and turned to me, smiling as he always did.

"If you could do anything, anything at all, what would you do?"

I replied instantly - I wanted to be a pilot.

He smiled.

"Well, go and be a pilot then"

Now, I'm all for the motivational 'just do it' speeches but just going and being a pilot isn't really possible. To be fair, I'd not been looking for placements or schemes for a good few weeks - they'd kind of fallen behind what with work and the (then) Girlfriend taking up a lot of my time.

He saw my doubt and his smile vanished.

"You're me before the fire." He said. "You've got everything going for you but you just can't be bothered, you're secure and you're boring. I'd always wanted to learn to play a musical instrument, but I couldn't afford it because of the kids. I'd always wanted a better education, but I hadn't the time - I needed to work to pay the mortgage. I never had the chances you have, and here you are happy to pass them by, consumed with the day-to-day running of an average life."

He got up and left. I felt terrible.

But the following Wednesday, there he was again smiling in his usual spot in the library. I found my book and whilst deciding if I could face him or not he waved me over.

I'll never forget what he did next, as he handed me a few sheets from his little notepad.

"Look at these"

He'd given me a list of all the training schools, mentored and tagged schemes, all the scholarships going for a Commercial Pilot's Licence.

"Go and do it. You asked me how I keep going? Maybe when you're half way towards your licence, studying and flying your heart out you'll think of me and you'll feel a little of what keeps me going."

He wasn't in for a while after that, I only found out his name was Paul when I asked the librarian if he'd been in.

Over the next few months I applied to mentored schemes with Flybe, and got rejected, then with NetJets, and got rejected. I re-applied to Flybe, and got rejected once again. Every rejection letter made me think about giving it up, and every-time I thought of Paul smiling in his chair at the library and looked at the next scheme down the list. I applied to British Airways CityFlyer and got accepted.

Paul was delighted when I told him the week before I left. Shook my hand, beaming from ear to ear. I promised to pop in to the library at the usual time when I was back in the UK next.

About half-way through the course I split with my girlfriend of 4 years - she found someone else. It tore me to pieces. After that I started to look upon what I was doing in a different light. I was training to be a Pilot! This was everything I'd wanted for as long as I could remember. I had awesome friends and coursemates and I was chasing my dream. This was for me, this was who I am. Sure, it's not going to last forever, but when I'm done here there's other things I want to learn, so many other cool places to go, things to do. I'm always happy so long as I'm always working towards something. The setbacks, bad days, all the grief just rolled off me like water. I thought of Paul. Is this what he meant? I had to tell him about my little revelation, in some small way I think I'd grasped a tiny bit of what kept that man afloat.

I was back in the UK about a month after that, I went to the library at the usual time, full of excitement.

Paul wasn't there.

He'd died of a heart attack two weeks before.

He was cremated. Nobody attended.

Nobody claimed the ashes.

On the back of the last of the notes he'd given me he'd written the poem:

"Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call today his own,
He who secure within can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst,
For I have Lived today."



Carpe Diem, people.

Verry nice!
And, a good lesson.

That settles it! I am gonna do porn!