Jeb

[SilentM]

 

July 25, 1933.

 

Every day he's out there.

Every.

Day.

 

And as I watch this foursquare window, I see him. His proud brow of seventy-something now drooping, hiding nothing -- an easy man to read. Insanity jumps on his toes, annoying with every step, every twitch. You can tell, he's always got his eye on it. Unless he's tending. I tried to tell him... tried to make him see. "You can't water a dead plant, Jeb."

 

A naive responsibility. Although the extreme hope, tension, desperation in his eyes tells all. He knows they will grow. A child's excitement. I can't discourage him now. I'm not sure I could if I tried. All there is to be seen, a mile around at least -- Brown. All shades and varieties. Neatly organized rows of not-a-thing.

 

What can I do for you, Jeb? Why do you walk so far? Where do you get your determination? He doesn't answer when these things slip. I'm not sure he can even hear them. Can I be like you? Can I reach for the impossible? Why can I not? Where will it put me? An ecstatic idiot. A lost soul. Is it so bad? Does he know his circumstance? Do I even know? Maybe, just maybe, somewhere in there is a happy man.

 

Maybe it's me. Maybe I force this sadness upon him. I can't. I have to leave.

 

I love you Jeb.

I may come back.

I won't.

I hope so badly that one day you get what you deserve.

Keep on watering, this obnoxious Earth must have some breaking point.

If you find it, you write me.

I'm going to come back.

I will.

I won't forget you.

Signed, Edited August 31, 2009 by SilentM

[Abel.]

Enjoyable, thought provoking and flowing. Additionally, I enjoyed the possible interpretations of the narrator, an inquisitive soul? Or, conversely, a side of "Jeb" unseen, clouded by his apparent ever-growing insanity. The picture you painted was vivid and organised: First, by describing the estetchic, physical appearance of Jeb, you've already engaged the reader, making them want to know about more of his features. By then, you've shown them his personality, dexterous, relentless and, possibly, deluded, influenced by insanity.

 

So, conclusively, the piece was well described and analytical.

 

I liked it, well done.

[SilentM]

Thanks Elanman, appreciate the feedback

 

Anyhow, I wrote another little bit -- entirely unrelated perhaps. Probably not worth its own thread, so here's:

 

"Here."

 

Everything clean, white and pristine. A blank sheet of paper, a dried sponge. My mess, not cleaned, but mirrored. This place.

How to explain? Here, I am.

A flawless building, atop the hill. A grand staircase and a pure white terrace. Every towering shrub, hiding foxhole, indecent blade of grass, narrow valley and great lea with its counterpart.

 

Here. Everything nicely, lovingly arranged -- every peering window, lying door, angry shadow, condescending buttress, and egotistical column. All mine.

Everyplace, filled to the brim with empty. No bright smiles or caring embraces. Only me.

And now you. I'm sorry.

[RabidusUnus]

Second one was meh.

 

THe first one made me cry. No joke.

 

I LUV YOU TOO JEB.

[Don Garcia]

I really, really enjoyed both those pieces. I appreciate your writing style. Much better than some of the elementary dribble I've read around here.

 

 

Everything

 

Everyplace

 

What was this here? Intriguing, I liked it.