Hall of Infinite Doors
Having no place to live, and after having his parents stop answering his phone calls unless he tricked them by calling from business phones, he settled for a small area between two large buildings which both ventilated heat around his home. It was a nice are because one of the buildings was a buffet and a lot of uneaten food was thrown in boxes into a dumpster near his place. He could salvage the boxes and have access to unsoiled food. The other building was a clothing store which often had clearances and give-aways for clothing. He made several passes by the clothes box and by the end of the day he'd have a nice collection. He considered himself extremely lucky to have this location, and he was.
He lived this way for five years, only unhappy when people mocked him or when it rained. During those five years, he found an abandoned guitar outside and had learned to play it fairly well. Sometimes people would tip him, and he was very grateful for that fact. He was never really into alcohol because it was expensive, but he would buy some every once in a while to celebrate the holidays.
One day it all changed. He was on his way to watch fireworks on the 4th of July because they were free and there were a lot of people. He thought he might try to make some money, so he brought his guitar along with him. Recently his guitar had broken, but a fellow musician helped him to get the strings replaced and to polish it up a bit. Now it sounded even better than it normally did, so he expected a good amount of money to come his way today. The fireworks lasted longer than he had expected and it was almost dark by the time they were over. He left with a sense of patriotism after the show of explosives, and couldn't help but to play his guitar for the people on the way home. He started out with songs he thought people would know, but eventually had to loop and do them over again, so he tried some of his older ones. People paid him little mind as they bustled to wherever they were headed, whether it was a bar or their house. Occasionally, a nice passerby would toss in a bill or two and he even got someone who reminded him of his father to steal a buck from the guitar case. John was the kind of person who would follow a person who did that to him, but he lost sight of the person in the mass migration of bodies. When he looked back in the guitar case, he saw a slip of paper, but paid it no mind. He continued playing until the crowd thinned out so much it was usually a few minutes between people. He packed up, and headed home.
Tired due to a hard days work, he fell to sleep without counting his money. He woke up the next morning earlier than he normally did, so he stayed in bed thinking about the fellow musician that had helped him out that week. He had been given a business card for the musician in case he ever wanted to do a music show with him, he remembered. It had an email address and a phone number on it. He grimaced. He didn't have a phone, and he certainly did not have a computer or any Internet access. It was possible he could go to the public library and use one of their computers to do the deed, so he added it to his mental list of things to do. First, though, he had to get food. The buffet wasn't open yet, so he pulled out one of the boxes from the day before and viewed the contents. Everything in the box was thrown together in one giant mess, but he was in no position to complain. He had just started on his breakfast when he realized he hadn't counted the money from yesterday. He pulled open the guitar case and started with the change. $2.25 in change. He counted the bills. 17 dollars. He smiled. Almost twenty dollars, he thought. He noticed, however, that inside the case were two slips of paper lying over each other.
He lived this way for five years, only unhappy when people mocked him or when it rained. During those five years, he found an abandoned guitar outside and had learned to play it fairly well. Sometimes people would tip him, and he was very grateful for that fact. He was never really into alcohol because it was expensive, but he would buy some every once in a while to celebrate the holidays.
One day it all changed. He was on his way to watch fireworks on the 4th of July because they were free and there were a lot of people. He thought he might try to make some money, so he brought his guitar along with him. Recently his guitar had broken, but a fellow musician helped him to get the strings replaced and to polish it up a bit. Now it sounded even better than it normally did, so he expected a good amount of money to come his way today. The fireworks lasted longer than he had expected and it was almost dark by the time they were over. He left with a sense of patriotism after the show of explosives, and couldn't help but to play his guitar for the people on the way home. He started out with songs he thought people would know, but eventually had to loop and do them over again, so he tried some of his older ones. People paid him little mind as they bustled to wherever they were headed, whether it was a bar or their house. Occasionally, a nice passerby would toss in a bill or two and he even got someone who reminded him of his father to steal a buck from the guitar case. John was the kind of person who would follow a person who did that to him, but he lost sight of the person in the mass migration of bodies. When he looked back in the guitar case, he saw a slip of paper, but paid it no mind. He continued playing until the crowd thinned out so much it was usually a few minutes between people. He packed up, and headed home.
Tired due to a hard days work, he fell to sleep without counting his money. He woke up the next morning earlier than he normally did, so he stayed in bed thinking about the fellow musician that had helped him out that week. He had been given a business card for the musician in case he ever wanted to do a music show with him, he remembered. It had an email address and a phone number on it. He grimaced. He didn't have a phone, and he certainly did not have a computer or any Internet access. It was possible he could go to the public library and use one of their computers to do the deed, so he added it to his mental list of things to do. First, though, he had to get food. The buffet wasn't open yet, so he pulled out one of the boxes from the day before and viewed the contents. Everything in the box was thrown together in one giant mess, but he was in no position to complain. He had just started on his breakfast when he realized he hadn't counted the money from yesterday. He pulled open the guitar case and started with the change. $2.25 in change. He counted the bills. 17 dollars. He smiled. Almost twenty dollars, he thought. He noticed, however, that inside the case were two slips of paper lying over each other.