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Free Will: A Brief Narrative Fiction

Decent Essays
Chapter 4

The young man who told Betty Clay his name was Jason felt he had not gotten what he had worked hard for in life. He knew of the law of life that said you get what you earn, but he didn’t think what he had gotten of recent was a fair return. If you work hard, you get good things. If you treat people right, they will treat you accordingly. His understanding of what should be happening was different from what was actually happening.
In his earlier years he had done well but as the years went by, he felt this was not the case with him. And it seemed to him like he had forgotten all he had learned and had lost most of what he had known and earned.
With all that happening in his life of recent, it seemed like he had forgotten
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I’ll get through this.” “Aren’t you the same one that like to say you are the master of your soul?”
He looked at Betty Clay…. “Oh My God,” he said. “Master of my life! Master of my destiny. My soul. I’m not going to quit, homeless or not. I’ve got three days. ” he said.
The bus driver, overhearing part of the conversation, glanced backwards through his rearview mirror and giggled, “I wish I had your guts. I wanted to be a teacher, but when reality hit…” He didn’t finish. He giggled even louder.
“I wanted to do opera,” the overweight woman blurted out.
“I guess we’ll all be accountable to write our stories one day,” Jason said. “I guess,” Betty Clay answered, “And I’ve got a sword.”
She leaned forward for a bag she had in front of her and retrieved a book from it, made from parchment of brown and gray with elegant writing and a string running crisscross from punched hole to punched hole in the binding area, concluding in a huge pink bow. As if to confirm some sort of life’s security, lie in the smack center of the front cover the picture of a medieval sword, the liking of Admiral Nelson’s, the 1st viscount and former British flag officer of the Royal
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The one where they tell you, you’re hired and then they tell you, go out in the field, drive your car, use your gas, use your time and then after three weeks they bring you a check and say Mr. So and So or Mrs. Soooo, I’m sorry you knew this was a 100% commission job when you signed up. Unfortunately for the past 3-week period, you only earned $75. But you know, selling takes time. You know that. You don’t just come here and bammm you become the world’s greatest salesman. Just keep doing what you’re doing: attend the morning meetings, learn the product and delivery, and you know you could become a manager in less than six months.
What was the chance of publishing a book in three days and save his life, he wondered. He threw this question to the front of everything else that was crowding his head and waited for an answer.
Even if he got the writing done, would he be able to sell it? Or would he, for whatever reason, let it sit on his shelves and on computer drives like the dozen or more others he had written and never marketed?
What would happen now?
Would that homeless idea become
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