Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Passport (07/25/05)
There was much more than cement work going on with the big man. For two weeks he had labored with nine other people in this third world country to do just his small part to make their world better. Then two days before being allowed to go home—a plane crashes into the World Trade Center buildings creating catastrophic damage of immeasurable proportions and halting travel to the United States, trapping these ten people in this small African country.
There were other people working in different rooms of the old building. Painting, measuring, working to restore the place to some resemblance of the livable structure Her Majesty’s soldiers had originally constructed the building for. Occasionally someone would try to take the hammer from the big man’s hands but the ringing, booming blows never seemed to slow or even waiver from the echo that had been the song heard throughout the long day.
Everyone waited somewhat impatiently for the return of the group leaders, who were checking on possible flights to go home, hoping for the word to travel to the airport for the trek back to loved ones, yet trying not to despair in this impossible situation, wanting only to hear you are going home.
A man’s family is all he has and when they are in danger he is going to be there for them. But when he is thousands of miles away, can’t get home, can’t get through on the telephone, and even the email doesn’t work, you have to find a release mechanism, something you can do, something that will let the steam roll off. But you cannot hurt someone while you do it. You have to find something to keep busy, something constructive to DO.
Yeah, you can keep your passport in your possession, have your bags packed, ready to go at a moments notice, but you have to DO SOMETHING!
Oh! You want to repair that crack in the floor. You want that crack in the floor widened out with a hammer then refilled with new cement.
Where’s the hammer?
BOOM! The hammer smashes into the floor. BOOM! Cement chips and dust fly through the room. Sweat builds across the chiseled face and rolls down the nose and chin. BOOM! Yeah, my passport is in my possession. Boom!
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