Monday, September 29, 2008

Memory Lane: The First of Many

I was going through some of the boxes that I have downstairs, pulling out stuff that could be chucked, transferring other items into boxes so it was organized when I came across a file folder filled with old stories that I wrote when I was a teen.

Going through all the old stories really made me shake my head and I wonder what it was about my writing that earned me an award in high school. I have the whole teen angst, I know everything there is to know in life, thing going on but I don't think I expressed it very well.

Other times, I would start a story and then just leave it, never realizing the full potential or anything else. I have pages of pages of ramblings so I thought what better way to enjoy those ramblings than to share them with anyone who is reading my blog.

I will probably post one or two a month, whenever the mood hits. Tonight, I thought I would start off with a story that I started when I was nineteen. I remember starting it when I was at work. I worked retail and no one came in during a certain time of day so after dusting and various other tasks, I was often left twiddling my thumbs or reading. Then I got the bright idea that I could start writing again. Usually, I would just start a story and someone would come in and my train of thought would be lost. (Obviously I had a very short attention span.)

So without further introduction, here is the story (untitled) that I had started. (unedited of course to preserve the authenticity.)

As the last light of day slips gently out of my eyes, I feel the scream of anguish fill my sore throat. It is night now, the eternal shadow that clings painfully to day's side. Night, where the dead hide in shadows and the darkness clothes the damned. Why do I fear what I cannot see? Why do I feel dread at the sight of dusk? Why do I continue this impossible quest? Because I, because I, Alexander Simmons, do not have the answers. It was so clear when I was 20, even when I was 40 but now my mind and my body have out aged the answers. My body is weak and frail where it once stood strong and heavy. The answers are still there but they are not solid to an old man's ears but they may be solid to yours. Please take the time and hear my tale.


And that was it. I have no idea where the story was going or why I chose Simmons as a last name. Still, even with that, the first few sentences are pretty strong and then I wander off, singing a song of regret and fear and suddenly I introduce you to Alexander Simmons, the long lost brother of Richard Simmons and he is actually terrified that he will need to work out. And shouldn't it be outlived not out aged.

Okay, a little harsh about my own work but if I can't look back and laugh at some of the thoughts that came out of my head, I'm afraid that I will never be able to catch up with all the newest ones that try to tumble out.

I hope you enjoyed tonight's installment of memory lane, tune in next week for another story that will leave you hanging. VBG.


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