SUNDAY, BLOODY SUNDAY
A contribution from Micheal.
A contribution from Micheal.
Lee wanted to be important all his life. Fate killed him.
In the innermost confines of the building, Lee was sitting on a chair. His qualities were entirely plain, though both of the men in blue standing over him could not help but notice the glint of pride in his eyes. Sitting there was a man who had aspired to greatness and had, just the Friday before, achieved it. Lee could not help but bask in the afterglow of his glorious achievement with such exuberance that it radiated with searing intensity from his flesh. Despite this embodiment of joy sitting before the men in blue, their eyes were cast down and dull, their chests leaden. A sadness was upon these men as they prepared to escort Lee, the celebrity, to the car waiting outside – between them throngs of reporters, cameras, onlookers.
Sitting in an idling car outside, just several cars down from Lee's destination, was Jack. His face was red, his hands trembling. Jack looked at the reporters, dozens of them, waiting like vultures for their prey. Nervously, he smiled to himself; if he went in there, he'd be on national television. A star! But that didn't matter, he thought. His eyes, bloodshot, sank down to his hands. To what he held. Thoughts of Jackie swam in his head. He ached, his palms sweaty, metal scents filling his nose. Nobody else mattered to Jack. He just wanted was to keep Jackie happy – as happy as she could be.
Lee could hear the crowd outside and his ego swelled knowing they were all there just to talk to him. All his life he had been belittled. People told him he wasn't good enough. Wasn't man enough. He knew he had proven all of them wrong, and this was his moment of glory. Generations would talk about what he did, what he was capable of. Children would read about him in textbooks. A far cry from just a poor bastard who could barely support his own wife, the dumbass who shot himself in the marines.
Jack imagined it. He would summon his courage and, afterwards, Jackie would thank him personally. On television. America would adore him! From club owner, to national treasure. All he had to do was... to work up the courage. Jack paused. He looked down to his lap again. Who the hell was he kidding? He didn't have the balls to go through with it. With a sigh, he put his car in reverse.
Lee stood when prompted. The two men began to bring him out, but he refused with a grin. “Boys, I'm going to be on national television. I've got to look my best.” The men sighed, relenting, allowing Lee a few more minutes to switch shirts into something nicer.
A few more minutes was all Jack needed to build his courage up and step out of the car. And into the building. He weaved between reporters. It felt so heavy in his hand. Sweat distorted his vision.
Lee walked back to the men in blue with a spring in his step and winked. “All right, fellahs. I'm all ready.”
Jack wiped the sweat and saw Lee.
BANG!
Lee Harvey never made it to jail.
3 comments:
The opening paragraph kind of bothers me because it reads like "IM USING BIG WORDS CUZ I KAN!" but the story overall is very good. The language definitely changes without changing mood or tone, which I definitely like.
Overall, it's clever. I didn't like the "Sweat distorted his vision" thing. Seems a little action-movie-like. I do like that with only one sentence, I didn't really like the celebrity in question. Total douche.
Though it may have been a while since your last piece, you don't get that impression from this at all. It fits very well with older stories of yours that I've read. You've got a very distinct style that I'm glad isn't lost.
Ahh, creative nonfiction.
I must say, it's a scene that most certainly may have been the actual thoughts and feelings of the men in question.
I really enjoy the voice of your stories. They have a certain quality that is very appealing. An almost movie-like quality. Film Noir or action flick type. It's very refreshing.
Hmm, ok, I didn't realize until Mel's comment that this was nonfiction, and I just Wikipedia'd to get the details. (Should've figured it out with the names Lee and Jackie, though, especially because I thought "why would he create two characters with similar names?" >.<)
All the same, I don't think that changes my perception of the story for the worse. If anything, it feels a little more vivid to me because I know the background details. However, I don't think John Q. Public would pick up this story and instantly recognize this as nonfiction. If you want to be deliberately vague, that's cool, but if you want people to recognize the characters right off the bat, you might want to hint a little more strongly.
I really enjoyed the way you used the concept of fame to tie the two men together, even as you showed them approaching it from opposite directions -- I think the most impressive part of this piece for me was your skill at handling the theme. But yeah, I was slogging through that first big paragraph too, and it felt a little overdone.
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