Page 55 - July ONLINE VERSION

A Stranger’s Kindness I was on the side of the road of life. Crying out for Perhaps many will hate my words, too. Those enraged
with my choices might accuse me of terrible things
help. Dying. Passed by. Would you stop and help?
By R.M. Pearce Despite all of the angered people that violently at- out of spite. Others might even seek to take my life.
I hope not, but I am reminded of a man. A man, that
tacked my hero, he persisted and lived. It was before despite all of the vitriol and lies thrown at him, kept
I was born that I contracted an illness. A sickness pursuing his mission of kindness and love. A man that
This man lived years before me, and I don’t believe All my life, I’ve been taught not to associate with the that would eventually take my life if not for a com- changed so many lives with his words. A man that
I have ever met him physically. However, he left me homeless or strangers. Perhaps it is wise advice, but plete transfusion. Someone’s blood for mine. The man saved my life.
pages and pages of words. Wise words. Painful words. on the other hand, they are people that are hurting of my story practiced what he taught and knew this
Hard words. I know it’s silly, but despite being a just like the traveling man. They ask for help and we was the only way to disprove those that despised him. If my life reflects this man in anyway, I will consider
writer, I’m not much of a reader. I read textbooks pass them by. My heart pangs with a desire to help I needed a cure. This stranger entered my life and it a life well-lived.
to learn and peruse news for current information, but as I often stare in a different direction and travel offered his blood. The transfusion began.
I don’t read for pleasure. I create excuses, “I hardly past. I want to stop and ask them how I can be I must practice what I teach. My actions must re-
have enough time in the day” or “If only I had more of assistance. I want to look them in their eyes and A transfusion for someone of my small size was easy flect my words. I hope to help those in need. I want
free time and worked less, then I could read.” That’s connect with them person-to-person. I want to know in theory but held major ramifications. The doctors to hear others’ stories. I want to save a life.
a joke. A cold, hard, ironic joke. A writer that never their story. Everyone deserves to have their story couldn’t sterilize the deadly agents in my blood, nor
reads, yet the words of one man changed my life. heard and not forgotten. I pass them by. I don’t say could they complete a clean transfusion. They were The stranger may have given his life for mine, but
a word. I don’t ask a question. I don’t help. powerless. They were human. All anyone could do is he lives on in me. His mission is still very much alive.
I try to read a little each day of the words he left wait and watch. Like I said, I can’t give the details of my story, but
me. A page or two here and there. Wise words need In 2015, I began testing those fears and provided they’re out there to find. Simple words left to encour-
to sit. They need to simmer in your heart. They need money to those alongside stoplight intersections. It Not long after, the man writhed in agony as the mur- age. I did not write them, nor did I choose my story.
time to change your mind completely. I’m afraid that felt good, like I was helping — for a short time. Some- derous parasites that had once meant death for me It was written before I was born. The story of how
I’m too stubborn sometimes. This stranger saved my where around 2016, I moved to California and was were attacking his frail body. I had cried out for help, my life was saved by the kindness of a stranger.
life and yet I refuse to listen to his insights. I might walking alongside a group of friends at Venice Beach. wounded and alone. Just like the stranger that paid
even try to find reasons not to listen. I was new to the area and open to learning about my all expenses to restore the traveler’s health, my hero Words. They can create worlds and destroy them. They
surroundings. One of my friends had finished most of paid a costly price to heal me. I was cured. I would can change a man’s heart or break it. They provide
Words. They can create worlds and destroy them. They his Starbucks coffee as we were exploring the various live! the discerning with endless wealth yet lead others to
can change a man’s heart or break it. They provide sights. Suddenly, a weak voice called out from one of ruin. Words have power.
the discerning with endless wealth yet lead others to the open avenues and asked for the remainder of the The man, my hero, would not. He died before I entered
ruin. Words have power. coffee. The cup was practically empty, and the dregs this world. My words will tell the story of my hero — the man
swirled near the bottom. My friend refused and kept that saved my life.
Not all liked his words. Many ridiculed him or called on walking. After a short distance, I asked why he I read his words and doubt settles in my heart. I
him a liar. Would it surprise you to know that my hero chose to do so. He had practically finished the drink and question if I can ever live up to his example. I owe
didn’t have a perfect record? He was arrested. He the man was asking for the final drops as if begging him my life and my future. I wouldn’t be here today
was charged with various crimes. When asked if he for scraps. Both friends exchanged stories of how beg- without him. I want to say thank you. I want to
was guilty, he remained silent. I don’t believe he was gars in the area would often call out to kind strangers wrap my arms around him and give him the strongest
guilty of the things they said. Many of their stories and stab them as they drew near before taking their hug I can muster. I want to make my hero proud of
contradicted one another. His accusers spat at him things. My heart hardened in an instant. How can one his incredible sacrifice.
with venom and vile obscenities. He remained still. help those like the traveler, when they may become
They wanted him gone. He walked towards them — the traveler— beaten and violated? Today, I follow in his footsteps. I am working to
into danger. They hated how his words challenged become a storyteller and teacher. I studied screen-
their behaviors and refused to open their eyes to I’ve often ruminated on my friends’ stories and writing and creative writing in college. I’ve written
change. He wanted to help. They wanted him dead. questioned their validity. I truly believe that horrible for various publications and I’m currently working on a
things like these happen. I’ve grown up believing sim- number of different novels. For the past three years,
He was a storyteller and teacher. He often used both ilar lessons instilled in me from a young age. But if we I have worked as a substitute teacher in the pro- R.M. Pearce is a writer, teacher, and publicist in
of these talents in his speeches — the same words follow these guidelines, how can we change the world? gression of finally securing a full teaching certificate. I Kansas City, Missouri. Pearce’s past publications can
that were written down and left for me. He once talk- How do we not simply pass by everyone in need? It’s can’t say that these choices were intentional. I can’t be found in Silicon Beach Magazine, Victorious, and
ed of a man that was attacked when traveling and self-preservation or so I tell myself. help being a storyteller and teacher. There’s some- Shorelines Art Magazine. In addition, Pearce is work-
robbed of all he was carrying. The traveler cried out thing within me that pulls me to these subjects. I ing on numerous novels and has published a novella,
for help, but many purposely avoided him or ignored his The man that saved my life would say otherwise. In want to encourage people to live a better life. I want The Monsters Within. R.M. Pearce hopes to com-
pleas and kept walking. I often ask myself if I would his tale, the wounded traveler was dying on the side of to provide answers and not cause problems. I want to bine teaching with the love of the written word and
be one of those people. In fact, I almost know I would the road when a stranger picked him up, brought him help people. encourage excitement for creative writing through
be. into town, and paid all expenses to restore the man’s entertainment.
health. We’ve all heard this story, but I was this man.

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