A short story I wrote while I was deployed. Long but good. I need to edit it but its ok as is.

1. Preston lays down for bed in his expensive, custom tailored silk pajamas that only people as prominent and successful as he could find in their nighttime wardrobe. He lays his head down and
closes his eyes as his body embeds a personalized imprint into the tempur-pedic mattress that he and his beautiful wife had been aching to purchase. She is already fast asleep beside him, lightly
breathing under her also expensive silk and lace eye-covering.
They were successful, and it was all due to Preston's vision and strong work ethic, or so he liked to think. Even though he grew up with a church-going family, he was still what some people
would call “arrogant” and just a trifle ungrateful. He liked to parade his success and flaunt his money at every opportunity that presented itself before him. Preston Wittaker II believed in God but he
did not in any way thank God for his success or give him credit. Why should he, he often thought while lying in bed. I am the one who made it all possible. I am the one that put in all the late
hours.
But this night Preston did not lie in bed and dream of his next court case he would inevitably win or when his old man at Wittaker Law Firm would finally make him partner. No this night he
simply shut his eyes and fell into a deep, deep sleep.
Preston woke by his alarm clock softly playing Frank Sinatra with vinyl-like quality. He walked into the bathroom and did what most men do in the morning, then got into his dual headed
shower, singing all the way. As his shower reached completion, he slid the glass shower door open and reached for his monogrammed 200 thread-count, Egyptian cotton towel. You would think that
a married man would have both his and his wife's initials monogrammed in the towels, but not Preston. Only his initials were etched in the beautiful Egyptian designed towels. Then again, Preston
Wittaker was a selfish man, very selfish.
He followed his nose to the smell of imported coffee and sat down at the table where his maid served him Eggs Benedict and freshly ground Coffee with a side of Wall Street Journal. He turned
to the Business section as if it actually interested him, perused it as he munched on his eggs and toast, and rushed off to work. Everything was business with Mr. Wittaker, from the time he woke up
to the time he retired at night, routine. Stefan, his driver had the door open and ushered Preston into his freshly detailed Lincoln Town car.
At one point in the drive to work, which was usually around fifteen minutes or so, the vehicle slowed behind a nearly ancient Honda. The pathetic little car sputtered and pit-patted for a couple
of minutes, at a slow enough pace for Preston to see a bumper sticker on the top of the rear windshield.
Proverbs 28:27
Thats all it said, and all it needed to say. A moment after Preston read the sticker, the fumes from the poor little Honda started leaking in the Lincoln. Preston rolled up his window and demanded
that his driver pass the vehicle immediately. What kind of a jerk puts a bumper sticker without an explanation on their car? But he already knew the answer to that particular question. The answer
in this case was curiosity. The driver made no stops, and bypassed as much traffic and stop lights as were possible. Finally they arrived to a prideful looking building with Wittaker Law Firm etched
boldly above the pillars to the left and right of the giant double doors.
The man took two steps and saw the beggar at the bottom of the steps as he did every morning. The man had an old tattered briefcase that he kept open so that passer-byers could donate some
spare change to him. His eyes were full of sorrow and regret, like a dark tale that ran deep into the depths of his very soul. But most people could not see that, just like Preston couldn't see it. All he
could see is another lazy beggar with his hand out, looking for charity and sympathy from the wealthy and successful. Why should I help this man? He thought to himself, and then paused. I worked
my whole life for what I have, why should a man born with the same opportunities as myself deserve one red penny from me? His thoughts were hollow and unforgiving, just as he always was with
this man every morning. This morning was different though, he was feeling extra-arrogant on this particular day.
The man approached him and with a soft and humble voice he uttered “Could you spare some change?” Preston could have walked past him without so much as a glance to the man as he did
nearly every morning, but he was fed up and wanted to get his point across. So he paused, looked scornfully at the man in the tattered old suit and spat;
“You want some change, change your clothes. Theres a change for you. And while your at it, walk down to the city welfare office and live off of the government. If your going to be poor, at least
have some dignity about yourself. I have worked far too hard my entire life to give away even a penny to a complete stranger. Now step away before I have a restraining order put against you.”
The beggar now had a look of deep dismay in his eyes that just as well could have been the same emotion that was engraved in his very heart. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he
could have said, but he held back. Instead his eyes began to water and his lips trembled as he spoke; “No one can serve two masters. You cannot serve God and money.” He didn't expect to hear a
response, or for Preston to even skip a beat, he just wanted to be heard.
Preston did NOT skip a beat on his way up the stairs to the rather bold looking Law firm building. He did however think, even if it wasn't a deep thought, about what the beggar had said. Mr.
Wittaker as I previously mentioned had grew up in the church, and he remembered that verse from his church-going days. Matthew 6:24. Even though he generally did not have a moment of
weakness as many litigation attorneys hadn't, he did have a trifle of guilt in his heart. When I say a trifle, I mean an almost insignificant amount of thought. But the beggar had succeeded in at least
that much, which was an accomplishment most would never see to completion.
The biblical trip down memory lane had Preston curious to find the meaning in the bumper sticker he had saw earlier that morning. He sat down in his rather swank office that his rich daddy had
reserved for him and pulled his Mac Book out of the leather case in which it was so neatly enclosed. He powered it up and opened the browser page to Google. In the search bar he typed “Proverbs
28:27.” The results came up almost immediately and he clicked on the first green link that looked relevant. The verse ironically read; “He who gives to the poor will never want, but he who shuts
his eyes will have many curses.” Preston pondered the verse and then shut his Mac Book as if the verse hadn't applied to him at all. He did think about the beggar he had encountered as he did
every morning and had treated so rudely. Once again that same trifle of guilt found its way to the forefront of his mind and traced its way around his membrane. But Preston pushed it out just as
quickly as it entered. After all, seeing that verse on an old Honda WAS just a coincidence...right?
Now I guess it's only to fair to tell you about Preston's family life. He was married to a classy woman named Angela Wittaker, and has 2 kids just about in middle school. Angela was a stay-at-
home mother and had a world of love for her family. She basically raised Princeton and Alexander on her own. Not to say Preston wasn't around, oh he was around, just not that often. And when he
was he was usually insulting Angela for not taking his fancy suits to the dry cleaners or blaming Princeton's B grades that should be A's on her. In his mind, it was her fault because SHE should be
tutoring them since she is a stay-at-home mother. But this was their ninth year of marriage, and the lovey-dovey stage has wore off. But not because of Angela, she was a sweet, caring individual
that loved to make her man happy, even if it was a nearly impossible feat. But other than Princeton's often condescending attitude towards his family and frequent late night stays at the office, they
were a good family.
His father, Preston Wittaker the first was getting old and was in bad health. He had a terrible cough and his heart was as weak as his walk. His wife, Mrs. Julia Wittaker died when Preston
junior was just a toddler, of breast cancer. But Preston junior wasn't thinking about anything but making partner these days. He knew that his father would make him partner before he took the
proverbial “dirt nap.” He was sure of it, in the deepest part of his soul, he knew. Him and his father hadn't always had the best relationship, but he was sure his father would be reasonable when it
came to choosing a partner for the firm.
Preston went about his day as he normally did but the thought of the verse he just happened to see on the back of that beat up old Honda and the verse that the beggar had recited to him with
tears in his eyes distracted him more and more as the hours passed. He pondered going back to church, then he remembered he put in the most hours on Sundays. Then he realized; I'm Preston
Wittaker II and nothing is going to come between me and my career, OR my money. Besides I told that homeless man to go to the welfare office for his own good, that was nice of me. I can't be
cursed for being responsible...right?
And that was all. No more guilt, and certainly no more thought about the strangely coincidental events. He walked out of his office for lunch but on the way down the long marble floor hall he
stopped at his fathers office to invite him to lunch. His father was in a meeting with a man that he had never seen before, but looked strangely familiar. But without a second thought about the
matter, he shut the door, assuming it was important and went off to lunch. On his way down the stairs he expected to see the same homeless man he had confronted earlier, so he thought up a cheap
apology and was set on reciting it to the man. But to his surprise the beggar was gone, first time in two years that Preston hadn't seen him there. He must have taken the advice I gave him, he
thought proudly to himself.
He drove home for his daily lunch break but something was different. The wife's BMW wasn't in the garage and the garage door was still open. He deduced that she must have had the craving
for steak and went down to Ruth Chris as she usually had the habit of doing. He walked to the refrigerator and looked at the marker board that the children and his wife often used to communicate
in the event of his eventual absence. What he read tore him to pieces.
Dear Preston;
I have stood by for too many years and watched our marriage fall apart. I have raised our children and tried my very best to give you everything you needed to be a happy man. But in return I
got lonely nights and harder days. Marriage is about love and spending as much time with each other as a couple can, not waiting up at night wondering if your husband, who is probably having
an affair, will even call to tell you he is working late. Our children barely know you, and what they do know about you they can't call a father. I am leaving you in simple terms. The kids and I will
be at my mothers house in New Jersey.
P.S.- I have hired my father to represent me for our divorce case, so don't think your going to walk out on this with a penny more than you deserve.
He sighed and pushed all the pots and pans off of the marble counter top onto the floor in a fit of rage. He was destroyed by his sudden circumstances. Not only did he not see it coming because
his was so utterly blinded by his own arrogance, but he was also desperately in love with Angela. Granted his career had become more important over the years, but he still held a flame for her in
his heart. But the topping on the cake was the mention of Angela's father. Preston was a sensational litigation attorney, but he couldn't hold a candle, so to speak, against Angela's father.
Preston went back to work as if nothing happened and rifled through the stacks of paperwork on his desk. He tried fervently to concentrate on the details and particulars of each case, but it was
useless. All he could really think about was Proverbs 27:28. Could he really be cursed for not giving to the beggar? No that was too silly for anyone to believe. That stuff just doesn't happen after
all...right?
A couple days past and Angela stopped by to drop off the divorce papers on Preston's lunch break. He was not one for weakness, as most litigators aren't, so he signed them immediately. The
divorce ended just as fast as it started. Angela's father had taken everything there was to take from him. The house, and most of the things in it were awarded to Angela and even the custody of the
children were given to her. Angela also had access to Preston's bank account, which was a mistake that Preston soon regretted, so it's needless to say he lost that too. Preston now had lost his
children, all of his money, his house, and the love of his wife. But he still had his career, and his father would never turn his back on him.
Speaking of his father, Preston Wittaker senior had a scheduled meeting with the heads of the Law Firm . He stood up in front of fifty or so familiar faces and began his speech. It was as formal
and dry as his Armani suit he wore, but he was good at it and they respected him. He got near the end of his speech when he put his right hand over his heart as if he were singing the national
anthem, but his face was flush. He dropped to the floor and the whole room went to chaos. Preston junior ran to his fathers aid, but it was too late. His father had a heart attack and died at the ripe
age of 81.

2. The funeral service was dark and depressing as most were. Angela and the kids, and her dreadful mother were in attendance. Angela's father even showed, and scowled across the coffin at
Preston. The Pastor started in over the coffin as most funeral processions go, mostly the same mundane topics about the afterlife and how he is in a better place. But one verse the man said caught
his attention and brought him back to reality.
“What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?“
Preston found that verse rather profound and pondered on it for a few moments. He thought to himself; am I losing my soul? Is that why this grief and misfortune has fallen upon me? Curse you
God for placing such circumstances upon my life. I have always served you and believed in you, and this is how you repay me.
These thoughts that Preston were having were a mixture of lies and self-proclamation. In his self-centered life, Preston couldn't find one reason why this was happening to him. But all he could
think about is what the beggar said. Like a scratched vinyl record playing over and over; No one can serve two masters. You cannot serve God and money. He tried to avoid admitting to himself that
God was displeased with him and was disciplining him or testing him just as he had Job in the Bible. Well if it was a test, he had failed miserably.
Preston went back to work the next day, as he usually did as if nothing had happened. He knew that there would be a Board Meeting that day and he had a little pep in his step. He knew that
even though his father couldn't have made him partner since he had passed away, he could have surely left the control of the company to him. He sat down where he usually did, beside the chair that
formerly had his father in it. The emptiness of the chair was eerie to him, but didn't damper his spirits a bit. The man his father had been conversing with previously was also present, and looked
strangely familiar to him. The man was 65 or so, with white hair and a clean shaven face. Oh my God it can't be. No it absolutely, positively can't be. But it was. It was the beggar from the bottom
of the steps. But why, how, how could such a man, a lowly man, be in such a prominent Board Meeting? That question was soon answered.
The man that would decide the fate of the company opened up the Last Will & Testament of Preston Alexander Wittaker senior. He read through the minor details, the house, and the property
he left to his daughter Anna, and so on. Preston hadn't received anything yet, but he knew his father had left him the big one. With no kids, no house, no fancy car, no wife, he needed this. He
deserved this, he thought to himself. The short, portly man with round glasses got to the part about the company and spoke;
“Wittaker Law Firm and the associated assets shall be here by conferred to James Wittaker. Younger brother of Preston Wittaker senior.”
Preston's jaw dropped, and his heart sank deeper than he knew was possible. For one he didn't even knew he had an uncle, but the real shocker was who his uncle was. The beggar from the
bottom of the steps. Not only was the beggar entitled to the entire company, but he was also entitled to $22 Million in shares. Preston immediately was clearly, obviously displeased with this. He
marched over to his “uncle” and demanded an explanation as James accepted the shares.
“Who are you and why should you inherit my fathers company and not me?”
“I am your uncle James. We met when you were too little to know better. I only wish that I would have had a chance to get to know you. Truth is I didn't know who you were either. Everyday
when I asked you for money, I thought you were just another stranger. It wasn't until I had a talk with Preston that he told me about you.”
“Why have I never heard about you, and how all the sudden are you inheriting my fathers company? That much you still haven't answered!”
“Just after you learned to speak I went through a rough patch in my life. My wife and three children were murdered by a burglar one night when I was working late in this very building-”
“Wait you were a lawyer?”
“Of course I was, of the highest caliber. But after my wife and my children past, I was never the same. I kind of went crazy you know. So crazy I stopped working and my home was foreclosed.
Hence the reason I stayed on the street, which at that point in my life didn't matter to me. But your father always told me that he wanted me to run his company after he retired. So when you so
rudely spat your condescension at me, I took it upon myself to get back to the way it was. I finally decided it was time to let go. In a sense, you were the last straw and the reason I am here today.
Your father never told you about me because he was a Wittaker, and he didn't want my moment of weakness to influence his only son. But he always held a special place for me in his heart.”
And that was the end of the conversation. Preston did not ask for more information. He already knew that he didn't own the company, which was his life long dream. His goal, the only thing he
was truly adamant about. But it wasn't irony that struck him at that point, insanity was a better term. He didn't care that the beggar he so rudely spoke to ended up receiving his life's goal. He was
truly downcast. Of course James offered him a position at the firm, and begged him to work for him, but Preston didn't say a word. In an almost daze, he wondered outside into the streets and sat on
an empty park bench, gripped with depression and insanity.
A few months later James celebrated a huge case that one of his ambitious litigators won by throwing a charity ball. He stood on the stage and looked into the crowd. But it was not the crowd
that he focused on, it was the oddly familiar face sitting on the park bench behind the ball, which was held outside. He tried to focus on the speech he had written about how life isn't about success
or money, but about humility and contentment. But he couldn't focus, then he knew it. It was Preston. Clothes tattered and torn, much how he himself had looked just months before.
Preston looked up at the crowd then at the stage where his uncle stood, presenting his speech. The first sentence his uncle James said brought Preston back from his stupor to an almost sane state
of mind.
“The meek shall inherit the earth...”
The sentence seemed to play over and over, constantly getting louder and louder until-
“PRESTON! Wakeup!”
He awoke to his wife shaking and yelling at him, it had all been a bad dream. But Preston could only hear the short, portly man on the TV with round glasses, waiving his bible
violently...shouting to the world- to Preston....
“THE MEEK SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH!”
The Meek Shall Inherit the Earth