Post by Jack Evans on Mar 19, 2015 20:38:12 GMT -5
Jack Evans eyed the cellphone in front of him on the coffee table. His cellphone vibrated, signaling a phone call coming in. Instead of being polite and answering it, Jack just eyed the phone as its vibration caused it to skitter across the glass table, like some large bug out of a cheap sci-fi movie. Jack recognized the number on the phone almost immediately. It had the area code for Holston, Pennsylvania. Oddly enough, it was a phone call that Jack had been eager to receive for going on weeks now.
Eager, and terrified.
To understand what it was like for Jack Evans, you had to know what being Jack Evans was like. It had been a few years since Jack had stepped foot into the ring. Hell, the last time he did, he was so drunk he didn't even realize what was going on. He just showed up for the $75 appearance fee. Signed a couple of drunken autographs, got into the ring and slurred through his entire speech, then proceeded to get his ass kicked in by some new school wrestler coming up through the circuit.
But, to be fair, there was a reason Jack was in the shape he was in. A quick glance over his torso would show you dozens of wounds, from his left bicep which was torn open after it got tangled in barbed-wire ring ropes. Or, how about the seven inch scar running across his left pectoral which was the result of an opponent ramming a shard of glass into his chest and ripping him open. Three teeth were knocked out of the left side of his mouth, where a baseball bat had caught him clean across the jaw in one street fight match.
All of those scars paled in comparison to the shit that Jack had been through internally.
Years of alcohol abuse. Years of being a broken father. Years of trying to live up to the promise of his youth, only to come crashing down like a burning roof. After having two children, Jack tried to straighten up his life... Instead, the ring called even harder to him. Ask him what it was like, and he'll tell you the same thing he's told every other person who has ever asked; it's like when a sailor comes home to rest. His sea legs never quite go away, and the call of the ocean lures him back once more.
Now, though? Now Jack is trying to put his life back together, piece by piece. This very phone call could be the thing that solves that. This very phone call is something that could change the course of his life as he knew it. It could possibly even pull his wife, Sarah, down to Holston from Pittsburgh. It could get his daughter to come visit him. It could even get his son, who Jack hadn't spoken to in eight years, to finally speak to him again.
All he had to do was hit the green button on the face of the glowing phone.
All he had to do was take a leap of faith.
All he had to do was stare down the barrel of a loaded gun.
"Hello?"
"Yes, this is Dean Willard. I'm looking for Jack Evans?"
Eager, and terrified.
To understand what it was like for Jack Evans, you had to know what being Jack Evans was like. It had been a few years since Jack had stepped foot into the ring. Hell, the last time he did, he was so drunk he didn't even realize what was going on. He just showed up for the $75 appearance fee. Signed a couple of drunken autographs, got into the ring and slurred through his entire speech, then proceeded to get his ass kicked in by some new school wrestler coming up through the circuit.
But, to be fair, there was a reason Jack was in the shape he was in. A quick glance over his torso would show you dozens of wounds, from his left bicep which was torn open after it got tangled in barbed-wire ring ropes. Or, how about the seven inch scar running across his left pectoral which was the result of an opponent ramming a shard of glass into his chest and ripping him open. Three teeth were knocked out of the left side of his mouth, where a baseball bat had caught him clean across the jaw in one street fight match.
All of those scars paled in comparison to the shit that Jack had been through internally.
Years of alcohol abuse. Years of being a broken father. Years of trying to live up to the promise of his youth, only to come crashing down like a burning roof. After having two children, Jack tried to straighten up his life... Instead, the ring called even harder to him. Ask him what it was like, and he'll tell you the same thing he's told every other person who has ever asked; it's like when a sailor comes home to rest. His sea legs never quite go away, and the call of the ocean lures him back once more.
Now, though? Now Jack is trying to put his life back together, piece by piece. This very phone call could be the thing that solves that. This very phone call is something that could change the course of his life as he knew it. It could possibly even pull his wife, Sarah, down to Holston from Pittsburgh. It could get his daughter to come visit him. It could even get his son, who Jack hadn't spoken to in eight years, to finally speak to him again.
All he had to do was hit the green button on the face of the glowing phone.
All he had to do was take a leap of faith.
All he had to do was stare down the barrel of a loaded gun.
"Hello?"
"Yes, this is Dean Willard. I'm looking for Jack Evans?"
