Tuesday 22 October 2013

Thing 43: Write a scene that begins with "Joe was the last person on Earth I expected to do that."

Oh, hi internet. I didn't see you there.

Yes, it has been a mighty long time since I have let my keystrokes draw me to the literary domain. Sadly I've been rather busy with school, and so my literary exploits have dropped significantly in priority. I will not be able to update regularly, but I owe it to myself (and to you, I guess... If you're reading this you must care a little) to try a little harder.

Without further ado, here goes nothing.

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Thing 43: Write a scene that begins with "Joe was the last person on Earth I expected to do that."


I'm going to cheat just a little. I want some buildup.

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Damien took a deep breath before stepping onto the small dais. The muted sound of his footsteps on the plywood were drowned out by the defiant roar of the park's great arbors, shedding gold and crimson leaves in the autumn wind. The vibrant colours of fall stood in stark contrast to the black attire of those assembled.

The crowd was silent, stoic, as he positioned himself in front of the stage's modest podium. Their silence hung thick in the air, as if their gloom were sucking the oxygen from every breath and replacing it with a deep ambience of hopelessness and despair. Damien's small cough into the mcrophone could barely cut through it.

He shifted his weight and took a moment to prepare himself. He could barely draw breath past the lump in his throat. Casting his gaze over the crowd, he steadied himself and began:

"Joe was the last person on Earth I expected to do that."

There was that lump again, his sadness a catalyst that caused it to grow to unmanagable proportions. For nearly a minute his voice became trapped in his throat. The crowd sat silent still. He was grateful for their understanding.

With a deep swallow, he forced the lump away. A chill of protest ran down his spine, but he ignored it and continued.

"My brother was not a very outspoken man. I'm sure most of us just saw him as a grumpy loner. He would lock himself away, casting his disapproving gaze upon the world below him. He was aloof, distant, quiet.

"We used this as an excuse to let him fall out of touch. He was a difficult man to get along with, and the effort to do so seemed to present an insurmountable challenge. To be frank, we were comfortable, and to bring Joe into our lives we would have to become uncomfortable, and that was not okay. I can understand the feeling, as I'm no stranger to it myself. Joe and I were never particularly close, because I, like many of you, could not make the effort to strengthen our relationship. I was willing to let it go.

"Well, I think now we know how great a mistake we made. Joe wasn't a grumpy loner locked in his tower; he was a man broken and disappointed by this world. He lived every day of his life saddened by what we've become. Joe was a man who allowed himself to live in silent squalor because he gave everything he had to those in need. He kept himself away from us so that he could spend time with those who needed him the most. His unsung and anonymous contributions to the community have created ripples that will spread through generations. Though he refused to take credit for his actions, he brought hope to the darkest corners of this city.

"In the end, that dedication cost him his life. My brother died quietly, alone in an alley, having tried to save just one more child from a life of violence.

"This monument will stand as a testament to that dedication. My brother will be an unsung hero no more. Joe shall be remembered for doing the best things in the darkest of times, and for hoping the best in the most calamitous of times.

"To my dearest brother, the silent hero of a community that needed him more than it knew:

"Rest in peace."