Creative Writing Assignment #1

Ok - I gave you my warning in my last post!

Also, before I paste it in here, I would be remiss if I did not say how proud I am this morning of TWO people: one, my little sister is 33 today and she is an amazing woman, mother, wife and sister! two, I got one of the best emails last night. My friend Steve, who's BLOG is linked on my page here, is finishing his FINAL ROUND of Chemo and will be OFFICIALLY CANCER FREE. Last night in the email he said he was, "officially a survivor". Funny, we already knew he was so much more! I love both of you greatly, thanks for being such important parts of my life...

Ok, here goes ----


Looking out the windshield his mind played tricks with the raindrops. It was a game of distraction; pick two drops and ‘bet’ with himself as to which one gets to the bottom first. It had always been this way. The rain comforted Jeremy in the darkest of times. Tonight was one of those nights. He knew following him would lead to this but he had to do it. He had to know what his father did when he claimed he was ‘going to work’. He knew in his heart there was no ‘legitimate’ work. How could there be…there was never a briefcase, never the dinner conversation about a ‘tough day at the office’ or ‘that bastard Johnson down the hall’. Instead there was tension and arguments which led to beatings and crying.

Tonight was going to be different though. For once, Jeremy knew the truth and he was prepared to use it. As he sat in the driveway steeling his nerve for the encounter he let every bit of anger and frustration flow through his 25-year-old body. Tonight, the nightmares would end; the lightning flashes and he feels the hand, the elbow or the bat…whatever he got his hands on; as the thunder rolls he hears his mothers screams. As soon as the drop on the far left wins the race he will get out of the car. Jeremy plays the scene out in his mind. He starts with the pictures; the drug deals, the athletes and the politicians. He knows he has enough that his Old Man will listen. He’ll have 15 minutes to pack up and get out of her life. As a child she sang every night to Jeremy, always the same song, “Bridge Over Troubled Waters” by Simon & Garfunkel, tonight he would be that BRIDGE; after tonight the waters will be still, she can sleep. The raindrop is half way down, almost time. What if he says ‘No’ or tries to get ‘physical’? Jeremy felt the cold metal pressing against his abdomen. How ironic would it be to shoot his father with his own gun? How many nights did he lie awake wondering what it would be like to do just that? He knew he wouldn’t have to. His father would go, he would have to protect his friends and clients. Three quarters of the way down, Jeremy thumbs through the pictures, the physical and the ones in his mind. He never came to a ballgame, never took him to the park and never let on that there was any pride in his offspring. Ironically, he will probably be proud tonight – at least the kid stood up for himself.

The raindrop is done and so are the nightmares – the car door opens…