Aborted Begining to a Short Story
Jul. 12th, 2004 06:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
x_losWhen I was still in school, during the obligatory big holocaust unit, I used to wonder why all the Communists and gays and Jews and suchlike didn't get out of the country before everything went down. I mean, how can you not see the stuff comming? You buy the book, and another book, and it keeps going untill you have enough for bookends, then you buy those, then you need yourself a shelf. It doesn't just fall down like sudden rain- it comes on light night, and in the twilight, you'd better fucking run.
I was stupid back then. School makes you stupid. It takes you away from the real world- it gives you text. If I'd grown up in the realworld, I'd have known it wasn't like that, it doesn't work that way. You don't pay enough attention and suddenly you turn aroung and there's a stack of books. And you don't really worry. This has happened before. It will happen again. Ebb and flow and all that shit.
But it doesn't get better. It gets worse. But you don't think it'll continue. It- it can't. This is home. It always has been. It's your home, and nothing really and trully bad can happen in the town you grew up and ate fucking fun-dip in. I mean, you don't associate the kind of things you read about in history books with the town where you used to eat fucking fun-dip in, with the country you're from, that is you.
So I'm where I thought I was too clever to ever end up. The unlamented death of a wise ass. That sounds smooth.
Susan laughs. I can't stand the scraping sound of it- it's harsh and dying, sounds like ripping a layer of skin off the top of her mouth and calling it happy. I don't know that her name is Susan. I mean, in all probability, it isn't. She had a sharp, fine nose and sharp, burning eyes. I knew a girl with hair the same red color once, and she was a Sue, so this one is a Susan.
It's not like she's going to correct or enlighten me as to her real name. For the six days I've been down here, she hasn't said a word. She stared at the bricks across the cell, smiling, giggling at something. I don't know what- it's plain to me at least that we're going to die. I don't know what's so goddamn funny about it. But Susan laughs all the same, and by now it's familiar, and the familiar is comforting.
I should have left. Goddamnit. Sammy, she knew better. She made sure to tell me she was leaving while she could- took care I knew when, where from. We'd just split up, and I was raw and too angry at her to pay her any attention, but now I think it's sweet how she still cared about my sorry ass. I wonder if she cried when she got on the boat without me- plane service had been suspended by then.
I wonder if she was crushed or pissed when she saw that I had been too stupid to get out. She might not have loved me, but she cared. That may have been the last time I saw anyone who cared. Five months ago, the night before she had to be at the dock. Shit, Sammy and I ended badly, but what I wouldn't do to be in the same room as someone who gave a damn again.
I was stupid back then. School makes you stupid. It takes you away from the real world- it gives you text. If I'd grown up in the realworld, I'd have known it wasn't like that, it doesn't work that way. You don't pay enough attention and suddenly you turn aroung and there's a stack of books. And you don't really worry. This has happened before. It will happen again. Ebb and flow and all that shit.
But it doesn't get better. It gets worse. But you don't think it'll continue. It- it can't. This is home. It always has been. It's your home, and nothing really and trully bad can happen in the town you grew up and ate fucking fun-dip in. I mean, you don't associate the kind of things you read about in history books with the town where you used to eat fucking fun-dip in, with the country you're from, that is you.
So I'm where I thought I was too clever to ever end up. The unlamented death of a wise ass. That sounds smooth.
Susan laughs. I can't stand the scraping sound of it- it's harsh and dying, sounds like ripping a layer of skin off the top of her mouth and calling it happy. I don't know that her name is Susan. I mean, in all probability, it isn't. She had a sharp, fine nose and sharp, burning eyes. I knew a girl with hair the same red color once, and she was a Sue, so this one is a Susan.
It's not like she's going to correct or enlighten me as to her real name. For the six days I've been down here, she hasn't said a word. She stared at the bricks across the cell, smiling, giggling at something. I don't know what- it's plain to me at least that we're going to die. I don't know what's so goddamn funny about it. But Susan laughs all the same, and by now it's familiar, and the familiar is comforting.
I should have left. Goddamnit. Sammy, she knew better. She made sure to tell me she was leaving while she could- took care I knew when, where from. We'd just split up, and I was raw and too angry at her to pay her any attention, but now I think it's sweet how she still cared about my sorry ass. I wonder if she cried when she got on the boat without me- plane service had been suspended by then.
I wonder if she was crushed or pissed when she saw that I had been too stupid to get out. She might not have loved me, but she cared. That may have been the last time I saw anyone who cared. Five months ago, the night before she had to be at the dock. Shit, Sammy and I ended badly, but what I wouldn't do to be in the same room as someone who gave a damn again.
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no subject
Date: 2004-07-16 01:10 am (UTC)but what's the point you want to make by it? that life is about finding a pattern of familiarity, and problems are only dealt with once one's pattern has been stopped or destroyed? perhaps that it isn't about finding the best life (for most people) but just what is stable and won't change? then, you could have her get use to the prison and the girl, and she could become regretful when either she or the other girl does something to disturb their setting... like maybe upsetting the guard and getting put somewhere else or getting executed.
no subject
Date: 2004-07-16 01:41 am (UTC)