Creative Writing : Loser

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Jessica Scales

Creative Writing : Loser

Dull eyes stared out of a grey face void of any emotion. The little man stood clutching a plastic briefcase on the edge of the platform that was part of a busy, city railway station. Thousands of commuters used the station everyday, hurrying to and from the trains. People pushed past him without noticing. He was a mere flyspeck, and nobody cared. He had stood on that very same spot each working day for the past ten years, invisible in the crowd.

There was nothing unusual about the station or the many commuters that used it. But the man standing close to the edge of the platform had made a decision that would make him stand out from the crowd. It would get the attention of radio, television and the press. It was a decision he had not made lightly.

All his life he had been a nobody. He was a failure, a loser. Everybody knew that, and no one was more certain of it than the little man himself. Over the past few weeks his life had become increasingly miserable. He had no friends, his family were not interested in him and his job had not changed in years.
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Each evening the little man went back to his poky bed-sit with its faded floral wallpaper and stained carpet. He would turn the key in the lock, kick the bottom of the sticking door, switch on the TV, put the kettle on, tip the fish and chips on to a plate and slosh on the tomato ketchup, then pour hot water into a stained mug containing a teabag, sugar and milk and take supper over to the sofa that had seen better times in front of the TV. His routine never varied. He'd go to bed at 10:30pm, ...

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