Scene loves creativity.
We’re showcasing creative writing done by students…
this week a short story by
Want your work featured ? Send submissions to to email@example.com
Gregory walked across the dark street of Haight. He was lost, simply couldn’t find his way home. No. He couldn’t find his dorm. Home is thousands of miles away from San Francisco. Never mind the beautiful wharf, the infamous Alcatraz Island, the Golden Gate bridge. It was nothing compared to his mother’s cooking, his friends that made him laugh whenever he was having an awful day, or even his girlfriend Jessica. He had to leave all that behind after he realized that USF was the perfect school for him. Or was it? He was excited to come to San Francisco after he came to visit day in April. But now he regrets his decision.
As he walked down Haight street he came across a homeless man. Greg walked with his head down, kicking invisible objects and sighing, still trying to find his way back to the dorms. The homeless man played a guitar when he noticed Greg. “Hey kid,” the homeless man said. Greg kept walking. Back home no homeless men ever approached him. “Don’t worry kid, I’m not begging you for change or nothin’” Greg stopped. He had nowhere else to be. “Here kid, let me play you a song,” the homeless man played a familiar tune. “I like this song, how did you know?” Greg questioned the man.
“Your shirt kid,” he responded.
Of course. Greg forgot that he had on his favorite shit. Led Zeppelin, “Stairway to Heaven”. Except the man was playing “Going to California.” The homeless man sang aloud for all to hear. Pretty soon, it wasn’t just Greg standing around the man jamming out to this song. There were now at least 15 people. Even a few of them with iPhones recording this homeless nobody play this well-known song. Some even sang along. The homeless man finally finished playing. Everyone clapped for him as he bowed to the crowd. As Greg was leaving, the homeless man stopped and said, “see kid, I’ve never had a home. I may or may not had had one at some point but as far back as I can I remember, I don’t have one. So if a man like me can be happy, you should be as well.” Greg smiled and asked the man for directions. “You turn left here on Masonic and go straight,” the homeless man added.
Greg walked along Haight street. He thought about the man’s words. “We all need something from everyone,” he thought to himself, “everyone deserves a chance to be heard.” He walked along Masonic back to his new home, smiling, knowing that these next four years would be a journey.