Post by Haden Emerson on Dec 3, 2006 2:16:34 GMT -5
The night was quickly aging as a nineteen year old male drained away the remnants of his energy for the day in the Power Ten gym. He wore slick black athletic sneakers on his feet and a comfortably pair of navy colored jersey pants, two white stripes running down the length of either side of the article of clothing. Covering his muscular upper torso was a plain gray t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.
Haden Emerson stood in front of a large punching bag, beating it back and forth with his fists in an intense force. There appeared a look in his deep brown eyes some sort of determined vengeance, perhaps an anger that had been trapped deep inside of him finally surfacing. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, a hard concentrated look in his bronze features. Indeed it was an unbidden fury that he was obviously letting out on this unfortunate inanimate object.
The event which he was letting out steam over had to do with another one of his parents’ failed family dinners that had occurred just earlier that evening. Honestly, he didn’t know why he tried anymore, it was like he handed them an innumerable amount of chances and each one they took for granted. His mom and dad could not get along for even a short ten minutes without booming into another argument, yet still there was no divorce. Actually he was surprised that after all these years, the tenants of the apartment building still didn’t elect to kick his so-called ‘family’ out of the place.
The question of why there was so much hot blood between them to this day could still not be answered. Mr. Emerson was always angry, Mrs. Emerson was almost angry… at this point, even Haden was almost always angry. Or at least this was whenever he tried to put up with them. All he could do was thank God that he’d finally moved out. In his own apartment, now the living space was so silent, everything seemed at peace. No longer did he live within the confined environment where an unbinding hatred echoed off the walls. He could only describe his new arrangements as tranquil--even heavenly--yet at the same time almost a little lonely.
Breaking out of his trance, Haden ceased his punches and the halted the punching bag’ss movement. He took a moment to catch his breath, listening to the sound of his racing heart pounding in his ears. Gazing down at his hands he realized that his fists had reddened from the impact with the punching bag. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it, although he did know that his head was slowly starting to clear. Something about going to the gym always seemed to aid him in lifting some of the weight off of his shoulders. Perhaps it was the physical workout that made so much more sense than the contemplating of thoughts and feelings, or maybe it just helped because he purely enjoyed this strenuous activity. Either way, after a moment of silence, he was at it again. This time though with much less of the initial purpose, having spent the most burdening aspect of this angry mood away.[/size]
Haden Emerson stood in front of a large punching bag, beating it back and forth with his fists in an intense force. There appeared a look in his deep brown eyes some sort of determined vengeance, perhaps an anger that had been trapped deep inside of him finally surfacing. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, a hard concentrated look in his bronze features. Indeed it was an unbidden fury that he was obviously letting out on this unfortunate inanimate object.
The event which he was letting out steam over had to do with another one of his parents’ failed family dinners that had occurred just earlier that evening. Honestly, he didn’t know why he tried anymore, it was like he handed them an innumerable amount of chances and each one they took for granted. His mom and dad could not get along for even a short ten minutes without booming into another argument, yet still there was no divorce. Actually he was surprised that after all these years, the tenants of the apartment building still didn’t elect to kick his so-called ‘family’ out of the place.
The question of why there was so much hot blood between them to this day could still not be answered. Mr. Emerson was always angry, Mrs. Emerson was almost angry… at this point, even Haden was almost always angry. Or at least this was whenever he tried to put up with them. All he could do was thank God that he’d finally moved out. In his own apartment, now the living space was so silent, everything seemed at peace. No longer did he live within the confined environment where an unbinding hatred echoed off the walls. He could only describe his new arrangements as tranquil--even heavenly--yet at the same time almost a little lonely.
Breaking out of his trance, Haden ceased his punches and the halted the punching bag’ss movement. He took a moment to catch his breath, listening to the sound of his racing heart pounding in his ears. Gazing down at his hands he realized that his fists had reddened from the impact with the punching bag. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it, although he did know that his head was slowly starting to clear. Something about going to the gym always seemed to aid him in lifting some of the weight off of his shoulders. Perhaps it was the physical workout that made so much more sense than the contemplating of thoughts and feelings, or maybe it just helped because he purely enjoyed this strenuous activity. Either way, after a moment of silence, he was at it again. This time though with much less of the initial purpose, having spent the most burdening aspect of this angry mood away.[/size]
