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Christopher

Moderator

Member Rara Avis

since 1999-08-02

Posts 8296
Purgatorial Incarceration

0 posted 1999-11-21 03:29 AM

... my muse has been on vacation.
WOuldn't it figure, that during my "dry" spell, my muse would return, only to force me to write a story I really didn't want to write, but which I had no choice but to do so?
So, here it is. It isn't wonderful, (and that's being nice,) and could probably use some editing. I decided to post it, to prove to those who've told me I couldn't write anything bad wrong!

Untitled

Moonlight, jaded and dull, reflected off the placid waters of the city lake. Vagrants plodded the shores mumbling incoherently to themselves and the slight breeze. To the north the lights of the city could be seen beckoning with promises of family and home.
Home.
Evan shook his head slightly, letting the strands of his dirty hair wisp into his face. Home was a distant memory and an unrealized dream. It had been many years since that word held any meaning for him. So many in fact, that he'd all but forgotten those days. It was only on nights like these when he was cold and lonely, that his subconscious drudged the past up to the surface of his thoughts.
His pondering was interrupted by a sudden bout of phlegmy coughing. He went with it, and finally after a few moments was able to breathe again. He took a deep breath and spit out a gout of the greenish bile that burned his tongue.
"Gross!"
Evan glanced to his right, to see a lady speeding rapidly up the street. Her eyes kept glancing back toward him, evidently disgusted... and somewhat afraid.
He shook his head softly. It had also been many years since the degrading glances of others had sincerely bothered him. Wiping at his mouth with a palsied hand, he slowly stood up and stretched.
His aging bones creaked and popped, providing some relief to the constant fatigue that plagued him.
Standing now, he was taken by a sudden wave of vertigo.
Moments later, he was standing again.
Obviously he'd fallen.
Bummer, he thought.
Shaking his head again, Evan picked up the few belongings he had and carefully stacked them into his cart. He was proud of his cart. Out of all the vagrants to reside near the lake, his was the most decorated.
Sure, Lunetta draped clothes all over hers, but he figured that didn't really count. His cart was art. Beads and such were braided around the handles, formed into an intricate mesh of colors and materials. and woven into the metal grid of the sides, he had various sashes and shells. On one side, the shells formed an "E" and on the other, a "D."
The "E" stood for "Evan."
The "D" stood for "Death."
At least that's what it stood for originally. Later, as he'd become more accustomed to his...situation, he'd changed the meaning in his head. He remembered those days when he first lost his job, his wife, then finally his home.
No matter what anyone said, Evan believed that the city did have a heart. He just believed that it was cold and black. After Karen died, he'd sought for help. But no one was willing to spare time or money to help him. He'd tried and tried to find a job, but all the factories had sold out to Japanese corporations, who were automating everything.
And in the end, he'd given up.
He had really given up. He sought for a means to end his miserable existence.
The irony was, that the people who couldn't spare him a dime for some food, were the same people who spent thousands of dollars making sure he would stay alive to endure the torture of a failed life.
His bitter laughter rang out into the night air, causing only a few heads to turn in his direction. He didn't care. After months and months of "therapy," he'd given up on giving up. It was at that time that he'd changed the meaning of the "D" on the side of his cart.
Denial was the new meaning.
It was his way of "coping" with his "situation."
Deny everything.
Which he did.
When he reached the lush oak that bowed over the softly lapping waves of the lake, he repeated his nightly litany.
"I deny this life, I deny this reality. So I close my eyes, and dream my fantasy."
Evan closed his eyes and drifted off into the dreams of a madman.

Michael

Moderator

Member Rara Avis

since 1999-08-13

Posts 7666
California

1 posted 1999-11-21 05:56 AM

You may have well have been writing about me when you said denial is a way of coping, Chris. Yeah, I have some pretty strong opinions of doctors since my personal ordeal in Pennsylvania...I'll share with you some time. REALLY, REALLY, REALLY glad to see you posting here. Hoping for more soon.

michael

JennyLee
Senior Member

since 1999-09-01

Posts 1461
Northwestern, NJ.

2 posted 1999-11-21 08:40 AM

I really like this Christopher.
So many vagrant souls are forgotten about,some being noble in character and weak in spirit. You wrote this so well. I felt several different emotions while reading this...the main one being compassion. Well
Done

Jenny

I'm not being bad now huh...well huh?

merlynh
Member

since 1999-09-26

Posts 411
deer park, wa

3 posted 1999-11-21 06:07 PM

Thank you for the read. Nice work

Dusk Treader

Moderator

Senior Member

since 1999-06-18

Posts 1187
St. Paul, MN

4 posted 1999-11-21 06:59 PM

Nice piece Christopher, really enjoyed it! A frightening situation and well written.

And If I'm not mistaken, you've just become a moderator to this wonderful little forum, Congratulations

------------------
"'Cause there's a hunger, a longing to escape, from the life I live when I'm awake" - Creed - "Higher"

Poet deVine

Administrator

Member Seraphic

since 1999-05-26

Posts 22612
Hurricane Alley

5 posted 1999-11-21 09:07 PM

You must be crazy if you think this is bad! Or maybe my readers taste buds are off.. I liked it....

Marilyn
Member Elite

since 1999-09-26

Posts 2621
Ontario, Canada

6 posted 1999-11-22 11:15 AM

I ditto pDV. Denial hmm. I believe we are al in denial of some sort. Wonderful read my friend.

Deep Blue Me
Member

since 1999-11-04

Posts 396
By a big lake

7 posted 1999-11-22 03:02 PM

Nice tale, C.

This is NOT bad.

DB

Sunshine

Administrator

Member Empyrean

since 1999-06-25

Posts 63354
Listening to every heart

8 posted 2000-11-05 08:43 AM

Any effort at prose is never a mistake...I even put my red pen away, since you admitted that some editing was needed.

Ed.

Karilea
If I whisper, will you listen?...
I would rather be silent and write, then speak loudly and be bound.
KRJ

SpitFire
Member Elite

since 2000-04-19

Posts 2396

9 posted 2000-11-06 11:56 AM

~Just peeking around at some of your 'other' stuff. Enjoying. Enjoying these pieces of yours. Thank you C for all your words. *000*. *Peace.

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