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Hello again readers!
Today, I have the pleasure of giving you an award winning story. This is the newspapers first official article so please give comments. This story won a regional story competition in the United Kingdom! Hope you enjoy!

REGRET:
Alexander Bell once said, “When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one that has opened for us.”

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It was bitter on that lonesome night; Tom knew it was the end. All he could do now is just warm himself against the cold heat of the fire coming from the rusty old oil barrel standing proudly in the middle of the empty side street. Apart from the sound of the crackling flames all that could be heard was the drip, drip of dirty rain water running off the pipes and the scuttle of rats claws on the cold, hard concrete street. The humidity gave way and it began to rain. He walked over and rested himself on a rotting pile of wood. The dank air and temperate rain evoked memories, which had defined his life and brought him to this point.

It all started five years ago when Tom was fifteen and working hard in school. The midsummer heat was starting to get the better of him. Days were getting longer which meant Tom was even more lethargic. He was getting impatient with the same old tedious routine. It was time for a change; it was time to finally have the courage to ask Daisy.

That day after school he rushed home, opened the door and raided the already half empty fridge. He knew that his parents wouldn’t get back until around five so he decided to man up and make a move. First though he called his best and only real friend James. He let it ring and ring and ring. No answer. That was unusual; James was a scruffy boy who like Tom had only two friends; Tom and Xbox. Tom didn’t let that small fact bother him, he was too excited, too scared. He opened up his phone and called Daisy. In Tom’s eyes Daisy was a goddess as beautiful as an angel, the light in an often-gloomy teenage mind. He had always seen himself with her because often their eyes would meet in class and she would smile at him and also because Tom thought she was to die for. With adrenaline pumping through his body he pressed call. “Hello?” asked a soft voice.
“Hi, it’s Tom.” he replied with a big smile on his face.
“Oh, hi Tom. Why are you calling me?”
His hand was trembling with anticipation. “Well I was wondering if…” Then he heard it.
“Tom? Hey, it’s James you’ll never guess what.” Tom knew as soon as James said it what had happened but was too broken to do anything. “What?”
James replied with those dreaded words that he feared to hear, “Me and Daisy are going out.” Tom ended the call he was too upset to stand; he just fell on his solemn bed and wept.

It took months to recover. Even now Tom still didn’t try to think about it. He climbed off the rotting pile of wood and went back to the fire. In the background, he could hear the muffled sound of music, the guitar reminded him of an additional regret. He had not finished remembering, there was more…

Becoming sixteen is a great thing for many reasons but, for Tom there was only one thing he dreamt about. He wanted a job. He first spent a few months pouring over hundreds of job vacancies across the Internet and various papers, then one late summer’s evening he found it, a cashier in the new, cool guitar shop.

That was it, the job of his dreams. He loved music and could effortlessly fulfill the application criteria on the form. He applied for the interview instantly, before rushing downstairs to tell everyone the awe-inspiring news. His parents were just as eager as him. They needed him to get this job and hopefully he would disregard Daisy. It was a long shot but never the less worth a try.

On the day of the interview his mum forced him to wear a dark formal and slightly too tight suit. She said it was the key to getting any interview. Tom was reluctant at first, after all it was a guitar shop but what did he know it was his first interview.

He set off dressed it the smartest suit with the perfect cv. He spotted the shop from far away. It was the new building with shiny windows protecting extravagant displays of amazing electric guitars. As he entered the shop he saw red walls drenched with stylish posters and fashionable guitars. For Tom this was heaven. He strolled over to the cashier, a young man covered in piercings and tattoos of dragons and other tribal images. “Hi, I’m Tom, I’m here for my interview.”
“Really? Well sure. Go through that door.” the man said with a grin on his face. Tom turned and pushed open the small metal door. He was too excited to notice the man’s grin. Inside was a small poorly decorated room with a wooden desk and two fold up plastic chairs. Behind the desk was another person who was more a piece of art than a person. The man from behind the desk burst out laughing with the strongest northern accent ever when he saw Tom. “Man! What are you wearing? I’m sorry this job is just not for you. This shop is a guitar shop not a bank!” The man beamed.
“But but….” Tom was too confused he just left with embarrassment. Ripping his cv while running as far away as possible.

Tom’s legs started to ache so he decided to move away from the empty fire. He looked down at the cold dirty ground. He was tired and suddenly aware of a small group of homeless men gathering nearby. The rain had started to ease. Looking down at the grimy gutter slowly filling with water, he spotted a flier promoting a student night in a bar. It reminded him of……………..

Two years ago marked his eighteenth birthday. Being eighteen gives you certain responsibilities but the most important choice by far is university. Despite some draw backs Tom had done well at school and felt confident that he could get his first choices. Earlier on that week he had been offered an interview in Oxford University, School of Medicine. He was anxious at first. After all last time he had an interview he had been turned down but that was a long time ago. Nevertheless he was apprehensive.

On the morning of the interview he decided to have a hearty breakfast in front of the television to ease his nerves. He turned it on and then the colour in his face drained rapidly as he perused the headlines scrolling across the bottom:
‘Guitar shop destroyed due to gas leak all workers dead.’

He looked away and sat there. He had spilt milk all over his suit but he didn’t even seem to acknowledge it. He was too busy reflecting. He looked at when it had happene😛 seven thirty last night. That was when it would have been his shift. That could have been him. He dropped his bowl. It hit the floor smashing into jagged shards. He looked at his watch, he knew was late. Tom decided not to tidy it up as his parents would do it later. He put on a fresh suit and closed the front door.

“Yes, well I can see everything is in perfect order Mr Rigby,” announced one of the interviewers. Tom was sitting in an old wooden panelled room in front of three intimidating men all with dishevelled grey hair, all tediously grilling elements of Tom’s UCAS form. “Oh, there is one thing though, why don’t you have any work experience?” asked the interviewer who seemed the most unsmiling. Tom was taken aback; he wasn’t anticipating it at all. “Um, well ur I don’t know.”
“Well we don’t know either. I think you’re a slacker!” said another interviewer while sipping his water. “We don’t allow any room for idlers here.” he went on to say.
“We most certainly do not!” shouted the most senior one who seemed rather outraged, “I am sorry Mr Rigby you are not right for this university. Good bye.” Tom was traumatized and lost for words so he just left. He ran to the station, wheezing and gasping whilst holding back the tears that were already flooding out of his eyes. It was an exquisite day but Tom didn’t even seem to notice he just got on the train and sat down, mumbling profanities.

There was a harsh chill on that sodden night; Tom knew it was the conclusion of his assignment. He walked back and comforted himself against the cold heat of the fire coming from the rusty old oil barrel standing proudly in the middle of the empty side street. Now the sound of the crackling flames was accompanied by the low groaning voices of injured homeless men and the chitter chatter of peers. The drip, drip of dirty rain water running off the pipes and the scuttle of rats claws on the cold, hard concrete street was muffled. It would be his last night providing medical care to the destitute as part of his medical scholarship to study at Harvard. Then he’d go back to Britain again. He never really believed in regret as he only opened new doors and never pondered at closed ones. There was only one thing he did regret though, Daisy.

By MR Clark (Please contact editor for info)
Words: 1587

Hope you enjoyed it!
Note: This story is strictly property of its respected author and must not be copied. This story is courtesy of Mr Clark for this article only.

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