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Author Topic: Get Busy Living  (Read 1436 times)

Vrsovice Rebel

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Get Busy Living
« on: July 20, 2005, 12:13:54 am »

The room was dark as the young man sat down. He was long of limb, with the graceful movements and sudden quickness of a Siamese cat, but tonight he moved as if he were as old as Sin and twice as tired. Moonlight and the pale hardness of the mercury-vapor lamp across the street illuminated the object in his lap as he pondered where he was, and how he had gotten here.
 
  "I hate myself."

  "Why?"

  "I'm destroying you!"

  "That's -my- problem, Cherie."


  He thought back to the dark and lonely time when she had come into his life, and how she'd seemed a being of light and love and laughter. How they had loved each other over such distance with such passion, and how their coming together had proven to be their coming apart. He remembered a night in a storm, feverishly praying his Rosary in half-reflexive Latin, imploring the Mother Of God to beg the Father and the Son not to let her drive a knife through her own throat. He remembered the days spent half-awake, exausted from spending the night before on DialPad, or ICQ, or even sneaking a few forbidden minutes on a "real" telephone, just to hear each others' voices properly. He meditated on the flight Out There, his excitement and his shyness and a Donald Duck all-day-sucker bought when he couldn't find flowers in the airport. A Billie Myers song, a pile of letters, and a pain like liquid steel in his heart.

  In front of him on the floor was everything she'd ever given him; every letter and picture, a Sacajawea Golden Dollar ( along with all his other pocket-change ) from Out There, an Anne McCaffrey book, the stubs of boarding-passes and airplane tickets. Notebooks full of letters he'd written but never sent, interspersed with his Geometry notes, proclaiming his love in words he'd never been able to utter in person until it was too late.

  "I Feel like such a bitch."

  "You're not a bitch."


  He thought about the other women he'd dated since then; the Brunette Of September, with eyes that seemed to hold the brilliance of turning leaves, who'd cried silently and motionlessly as he broke her heart in misery; his Best Friend with hair the color of burnished copper who he'd wished he could love, The Healer who tried to stitch him back together with quiet songs and deafening laughter. He wished he could love them; in a way, he did. He was sorry for them too, but he loved them.

  "You can do this! WE can do this!"

  "I'm not strong enough, you know that..."

  "Then I'll lend you some of MY strength...I've got big shoulders, I can carry us both!"

  "No. Then I'd just crush you."


  He picked up the object in his lap. The weight of it was comforting, easy, and final in his hand. The grips were worne and battered, but they were his. He knew the noise would be deafening, would draw attention, but he would have a last moment alone, at least, with his memories. IF things happened that way.

  He slid a single fat cartridge out of its' box and looked at it in the moonlight. The El Dorado Starfire would leave nothingness in its' wake. He wouldn't even have time to feel the recoil before oblivion crashed into him. IF things happened that way.

  "I'll always love you."

  I know."


  He slid the round into the cylinder and spun it hard. The big Smith & Wesson vibrated like an unbalanced washing-machine as he snapped it closed. As he raised the pistol to his temple, a line from one of her favorite books came to mind..."Get busy dying, or get busy living."

  As the trigger made its' last quarter-inch travel, he thought back to the last words he'd ever seen her say, over the roar of an airport and over the heads of those behind him, her small voice cutting through the racket and his heart like a whipsaw.

  I LOVE YOU!!

  He pulled the trigger. The sound was the loudest noise he'd ever heard.

  CLICK.[/u]

  His hands shook as he slowly lowered the pistol to his lap.

  He stood up.

  "Time to get busy living."
« Last Edit: July 20, 2005, 12:15:18 am by The Dunedan »
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May God bless and keep the Tsar...far away from us!

My life, not yours, piss off!

lewlew

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Get Busy Living
« Reply #1 on: July 20, 2005, 12:31:02 am »

Yow-- this piece is chock full of intense emotion.  Am I correct in thinking that the protag chooses to not end it all, by the last line?  Or is the ending metaphorical?

I like that the protag tried to go on with his life, but the women he tried to form a relationship didn't work right, after the passion and love he had for Cherie.  It leads up the choice of what he's going to do-- choose to live again, or suffocate in a walking misery.  You paint it all so vividly.

Also, the little touches, like the all-day sucker, the Billie Myers song and the Anne McCaffery book add individuality to this piece.  
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Vrsovice Rebel

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Get Busy Living
« Reply #2 on: July 20, 2005, 12:40:23 am »

He decides to let Chance, God, or Fate make his decision for him; hence the Russian Roulette routine. He's decided that he'll abide by whatever decision is handed down by whatever higher power, if any, controls such things. He'll "get busy" doing whatever the decision dictates; either he'll immidiately be busy being dead, or he'll get busy putting himself back together. Either way, he's lost all patience with his current situation of self-pity and pain. He's decided to quit being a nebbich and, either way, get SOMEthing done instead of stagnating. He's broken-down enough that he can't make up his mind about it because of the self-doubt, but he needs motion in SOME direction...so he takes his chance, and abides by the result. You're correct, btw; he doesn't die in the end.

 
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May God bless and keep the Tsar...far away from us!

My life, not yours, piss off!

lewlew

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Get Busy Living
« Reply #3 on: July 20, 2005, 12:44:35 am »

Okay-- I understand now.  I didn't understand the Russian Roulette action after my first reading.  I reread the ending, and see it now.  
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