K guys, i had to write something on a topic in school (i picked the topic), and i did one on: How someone can be inspired by the dead of something/someone. So here it is, id much appreciate CnC. Thanks and enjoy.
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{Corrected with comments: 4-1-06}
Jason Gordy
A Very Winter Day
I have always aspired to become a writer; it’s the feeling of accomplishment as you place your final period at the end of your book, the feeling of ink flowing through your veins, rushing down your finger, and spewing out onto the page. So now I sit here, hearing the rhythmic creaking of the old antique rocking chair I lay in, and creating this work of art as I expose how I began my writing spree. There’s no easy date to begin with, so I will start with the last day before winter; the day flakes from the heavens began to swish and swirl to this barren land.
I planted my boots firmly into the soil; the ground covered in a thin layer of snow, concealing the ferocious-green grass that lay tucked beneath. Roots entangled in a maze like appearance through the soil; a leaf-less tree stood near, clearly exposing the first signs of winter. I slyly leaned against the tree, feeling the damp bark embrace my shoulder, and watch my wife and kids run about in our front yard. They jumped around, tossing the pitiful excuse for snow adrift, letting it swirl to the ground. As they played, it appeared like eternity; the nearby cars crawled along, the snow flakes gently hovered to the ground, and the children fluttered as if time itself had came to a crawl. I watched as snow flakes gently painted my wife’s face with a cooling embrace, and smiled. She was such an amazing woman, so strong, happy, and successful. For as long as I can remember, she had always accomplished her goals in life. Well that’s not entirely true; I believe that one of her goals was to torture me into actually finishing my goals, which she has failed to do so. As I have said, I love to write, but have never had the will to push me along. In fact, she had been nagging me for the past year to actually START a book, which always ends in me pulling patches of hair out and feeling even less motivated.
“Daddy,” I felt a tight tugging on my linen jacked, causing me to quickly look down; it was my five year old daughter, Jessica, glaring up at me with her navy-blue eyes, opened wider then the universe itself, “Yes dear?”
“Why is snow white?” I chuckled at the response, but could tell by the austere look on her face that she was serious. I patted her on her head, crouching to level my height with hers, and began babbling about the ethical and scientific reasons for all of her quirky questions, which probably went through one ear and out the other.
Day soon fell to night, and I needed a glass of water from all the talking I had been doing. As we made our way into our milky-white wooden house, my wife began to speak, “Joseph, I’m going out to buy some food for tomorrow’s dinner, I’ll be back in…” She paused, rolling her sleeve up on her tightly woven sweater, reading the time on her tinted gold watch, “about an hour or so.”
“Alright honey, I guess I’m stuck with these little monsters-“ A squeaky voice cut in, it was my son Chris, “We’re not monsters!” He yanked on my jacket playfully. “Yes you are!” My daughter shouted, followed quickly by several stomping foot steps, clearly indicating the two of them running off into the house after each other, slamming the door loudly shut. My wife smiled, kissing me romantically on the lips, and then swiftly turned around and made her way into her raggedy old car. Clank! Poosh! Squee! The engine started, sending her zooming down the road. The dinner she had mentioned was our usual family winter dinner we have every year. It’s a rather miniscule task, but seeing some of my relatives, like my crazy aunt Maddie who always seems to get drunk off of water, can quickly turn a simple family reunion into a frantic whore house, only replace the scantly dressed women with old eighty year old grandmas. I tell you, there is nothing worse then seeing your grandma dancing to the song Candy Shop!
I slowly made my way up the freshly-painted steps leading to the front porch; they creaked beneath my barren feet, almost as if whispers of sadness poured out, screeching into my insides, darting my heart. I made my way into the house, shivering from the nights cooling breath. The house danced with shades of orange and red ambers as the fire in the fireplace swirled about, casting shadowy figures spewing out over the oak floor. The kids sat stationed in front of the fireplace playing a simple board game. Dice rolled about, “YES!” Screamed Chris, as he snatched his figurine off the board and hopped it around the matt. I smirked at my daughters face as her lips quickly snarled up, and made my way into my office. I sat down in my soothing leather office chair, which was stationed in the far left corner of the room. A wooden office desk lay firmly planted in front of me; my laptop placed neatly on top of the desk between stacks of paper with random notes scratched here and there. An aluminum trash bin was placed next to the desk, full of crumpled-up pieces of notebook paper; clearly the sign of my failure to create anything. I planted my hands firmly on the keyboard, typing anything that escaped my fingertips. My mind wondered out of my body, and my eyes grew dreary. Darkness.
Images of a park blurred in and out resembling a camera breaking into focus. A hand grabbed mine, fingers locked; it was my wife Lauren, “Hey dear, what are you waiting for!? Our food is going to get cold!” She was as beautiful as ever; her crispy brown hair swayed calmly in the wind, her skin glowed with a soft shade of tan as the graceful sun bounced off of her. Her water-blue eyes gleamed; I could hear the ocean itself booming out of them.
I turned around, noticing a green tablecloth draped over the silky grass; food of all varieties were placed neatly in an arrangement on top. Lauren sat down, legs crossed, holding her protruding belly. She was pregnant. She placed her hand on her stomach, “Ohh!” She smiled, “Chris is kicking hard today!” She grabbed my hand gently, stretched it across the tablecloth, and placed it calmly on her belly. A soft kick jolted out, followed by another. BANG! BANG! BANG! I jumped up, my eyes burst open and I gripped my leather chair. It was just a dream.
“Daddy, someone is at the door!” My daughter stood there tugging on my finger.
“It’s probably mom.” Chris shouted from the other room. I got up, paced slowly to the door, and hastily unlatching the locks. A man stood there, dressed in dark blue attire, “Joseph?” I replied questionably, “Yes this is he.”
“Well sir…” He paused, slowly taking his hat off and placing it between his fingers, “my name is Officer Roy, would you mind coming with me?”
“What’s this about!?” I screamed out in confusion, as if I was a ferocious barbarian.
“Well sir, it may be better if you see for yourself.” I followed the officer to his snow-white vehicle, comfortably sat in the front; my two kids in the back.
My heart pounded as I glared out the window of the moving vehicle at the passing trees that flicked by like a slide show. Snow poured down from above; a lot thicker than earlier, and a soft tint of blue filled the air; fog drifted and curled clogging my view.
We drove for what felt like eternity, and then the car halted, jerking my head into the seat. I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out of the car curiously. My face stood in shock, my heart shattered; I couldn’t move. Beyond the thick fog, broad puffs of smoke filtered through the air. Bright flames crackled and popped, darting through my heart like a bullet. The cold chill of the night kissed my cheeks; snow flakes latched onto my empty skin. Tears squeezed from my eyes, rolling through every crevice of my face.
A hand gripped my shoulder; it was Officer Roy. “She was returning home from the grocery store,” He paused, “And as she was making this turn, she skidded off the road, wrapping into a tree. Her car exploded on impact.” His voice faded out, time froze in the winter air, and I stood there, breathless.
The way home became a blur, as well as the moment I told Chris and Lauren. Night grew thicker, and I made my way to my office, blinded by my tears of pain. I sat down in my leather chair, placing my hands on my keyboard, and began to type. I typed and typed throughout the night, followed by more typing through the coming days. All my emotion, fear, regret…pain, bled through my finger tips like an open wound. I had finally finished my very first book.
I stood before my desk, holding my rough draft in my sorrowed hands, and I smiled. Lauren would be so proud of me, and best of all, she had finally, truly, completely, accomplished all of her goals. Isn't it funny how, through the passing of those we love most, even the helpless of mankind can find inspiration? So with this, I type my final period, smiling, feeling the warm embrace as my work of art is finally complete.
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{Corrected with comments: 4-1-06}
Jason Gordy
A Very Winter Day
I have always aspired to become a writer; it’s the feeling of accomplishment as you place your final period at the end of your book, the feeling of ink flowing through your veins, rushing down your finger, and spewing out onto the page. So now I sit here, hearing the rhythmic creaking of the old antique rocking chair I lay in, and creating this work of art as I expose how I began my writing spree. There’s no easy date to begin with, so I will start with the last day before winter; the day flakes from the heavens began to swish and swirl to this barren land.
I planted my boots firmly into the soil; the ground covered in a thin layer of snow, concealing the ferocious-green grass that lay tucked beneath. Roots entangled in a maze like appearance through the soil; a leaf-less tree stood near, clearly exposing the first signs of winter. I slyly leaned against the tree, feeling the damp bark embrace my shoulder, and watch my wife and kids run about in our front yard. They jumped around, tossing the pitiful excuse for snow adrift, letting it swirl to the ground. As they played, it appeared like eternity; the nearby cars crawled along, the snow flakes gently hovered to the ground, and the children fluttered as if time itself had came to a crawl. I watched as snow flakes gently painted my wife’s face with a cooling embrace, and smiled. She was such an amazing woman, so strong, happy, and successful. For as long as I can remember, she had always accomplished her goals in life. Well that’s not entirely true; I believe that one of her goals was to torture me into actually finishing my goals, which she has failed to do so. As I have said, I love to write, but have never had the will to push me along. In fact, she had been nagging me for the past year to actually START a book, which always ends in me pulling patches of hair out and feeling even less motivated.
“Daddy,” I felt a tight tugging on my linen jacked, causing me to quickly look down; it was my five year old daughter, Jessica, glaring up at me with her navy-blue eyes, opened wider then the universe itself, “Yes dear?”
“Why is snow white?” I chuckled at the response, but could tell by the austere look on her face that she was serious. I patted her on her head, crouching to level my height with hers, and began babbling about the ethical and scientific reasons for all of her quirky questions, which probably went through one ear and out the other.
Day soon fell to night, and I needed a glass of water from all the talking I had been doing. As we made our way into our milky-white wooden house, my wife began to speak, “Joseph, I’m going out to buy some food for tomorrow’s dinner, I’ll be back in…” She paused, rolling her sleeve up on her tightly woven sweater, reading the time on her tinted gold watch, “about an hour or so.”
“Alright honey, I guess I’m stuck with these little monsters-“ A squeaky voice cut in, it was my son Chris, “We’re not monsters!” He yanked on my jacket playfully. “Yes you are!” My daughter shouted, followed quickly by several stomping foot steps, clearly indicating the two of them running off into the house after each other, slamming the door loudly shut. My wife smiled, kissing me romantically on the lips, and then swiftly turned around and made her way into her raggedy old car. Clank! Poosh! Squee! The engine started, sending her zooming down the road. The dinner she had mentioned was our usual family winter dinner we have every year. It’s a rather miniscule task, but seeing some of my relatives, like my crazy aunt Maddie who always seems to get drunk off of water, can quickly turn a simple family reunion into a frantic whore house, only replace the scantly dressed women with old eighty year old grandmas. I tell you, there is nothing worse then seeing your grandma dancing to the song Candy Shop!
I slowly made my way up the freshly-painted steps leading to the front porch; they creaked beneath my barren feet, almost as if whispers of sadness poured out, screeching into my insides, darting my heart. I made my way into the house, shivering from the nights cooling breath. The house danced with shades of orange and red ambers as the fire in the fireplace swirled about, casting shadowy figures spewing out over the oak floor. The kids sat stationed in front of the fireplace playing a simple board game. Dice rolled about, “YES!” Screamed Chris, as he snatched his figurine off the board and hopped it around the matt. I smirked at my daughters face as her lips quickly snarled up, and made my way into my office. I sat down in my soothing leather office chair, which was stationed in the far left corner of the room. A wooden office desk lay firmly planted in front of me; my laptop placed neatly on top of the desk between stacks of paper with random notes scratched here and there. An aluminum trash bin was placed next to the desk, full of crumpled-up pieces of notebook paper; clearly the sign of my failure to create anything. I planted my hands firmly on the keyboard, typing anything that escaped my fingertips. My mind wondered out of my body, and my eyes grew dreary. Darkness.
Images of a park blurred in and out resembling a camera breaking into focus. A hand grabbed mine, fingers locked; it was my wife Lauren, “Hey dear, what are you waiting for!? Our food is going to get cold!” She was as beautiful as ever; her crispy brown hair swayed calmly in the wind, her skin glowed with a soft shade of tan as the graceful sun bounced off of her. Her water-blue eyes gleamed; I could hear the ocean itself booming out of them.
I turned around, noticing a green tablecloth draped over the silky grass; food of all varieties were placed neatly in an arrangement on top. Lauren sat down, legs crossed, holding her protruding belly. She was pregnant. She placed her hand on her stomach, “Ohh!” She smiled, “Chris is kicking hard today!” She grabbed my hand gently, stretched it across the tablecloth, and placed it calmly on her belly. A soft kick jolted out, followed by another. BANG! BANG! BANG! I jumped up, my eyes burst open and I gripped my leather chair. It was just a dream.
“Daddy, someone is at the door!” My daughter stood there tugging on my finger.
“It’s probably mom.” Chris shouted from the other room. I got up, paced slowly to the door, and hastily unlatching the locks. A man stood there, dressed in dark blue attire, “Joseph?” I replied questionably, “Yes this is he.”
“Well sir…” He paused, slowly taking his hat off and placing it between his fingers, “my name is Officer Roy, would you mind coming with me?”
“What’s this about!?” I screamed out in confusion, as if I was a ferocious barbarian.
“Well sir, it may be better if you see for yourself.” I followed the officer to his snow-white vehicle, comfortably sat in the front; my two kids in the back.
My heart pounded as I glared out the window of the moving vehicle at the passing trees that flicked by like a slide show. Snow poured down from above; a lot thicker than earlier, and a soft tint of blue filled the air; fog drifted and curled clogging my view.
We drove for what felt like eternity, and then the car halted, jerking my head into the seat. I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out of the car curiously. My face stood in shock, my heart shattered; I couldn’t move. Beyond the thick fog, broad puffs of smoke filtered through the air. Bright flames crackled and popped, darting through my heart like a bullet. The cold chill of the night kissed my cheeks; snow flakes latched onto my empty skin. Tears squeezed from my eyes, rolling through every crevice of my face.
A hand gripped my shoulder; it was Officer Roy. “She was returning home from the grocery store,” He paused, “And as she was making this turn, she skidded off the road, wrapping into a tree. Her car exploded on impact.” His voice faded out, time froze in the winter air, and I stood there, breathless.
The way home became a blur, as well as the moment I told Chris and Lauren. Night grew thicker, and I made my way to my office, blinded by my tears of pain. I sat down in my leather chair, placing my hands on my keyboard, and began to type. I typed and typed throughout the night, followed by more typing through the coming days. All my emotion, fear, regret…pain, bled through my finger tips like an open wound. I had finally finished my very first book.
I stood before my desk, holding my rough draft in my sorrowed hands, and I smiled. Lauren would be so proud of me, and best of all, she had finally, truly, completely, accomplished all of her goals. Isn't it funny how, through the passing of those we love most, even the helpless of mankind can find inspiration? So with this, I type my final period, smiling, feeling the warm embrace as my work of art is finally complete.
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