This story is by Romantic Rationalist and was part of our 2021 Spring Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.
Our Fate: Cannot be unread.
Let the adventure begin:
This is a story without a plot.
This is a story that defies structure.
This is a story that cannot be unread.
“Parental Guidance” is advised.
And the story cannot be untold.
Read at your own risk.
The writing doesn’t reflect the view of the author.
The author is only a channel, like Moses and Mohammad.
Strictly speaking, the author is only a typist of the “muse.”
The author is only staying true to the voice of the “character.”
Who is he? Who is she? Who is it?
There is no plot.
Just lines and lines of truths.
There are no grammatical mistakes.
There are no spelling mistakes.
There are only human errors in interpretation.
If anyone fails
to decipher the story or understand the true intention of the author it is not the fault of the writer. Neither is it the fault of the reader. It is only because the right time has not arrived.
There are no inconsistencies in the story.
Everything is meant to be read by those who can read with an open mind.
Faith is all you need.
One table. One couch. Two men.
A: This is bull shit! Leonard.
B: Shut the front door, will ya, Jack?!
A: Shut the front door? You want me to shut the front door? But I like the sun. Spring is finally here!
B: Yes. Shut the front door. Would you just …shut up, Jack? Please.
A: Listen, dude, there is a crack in everything and that’s where the light comes in.
B: Wow. That’s beautiful. And I’m sure this will top the other line which you have written.
A: Which one?
B: About something broken…
A: Oh, love is a cold and broken Hallelujah.
B: Yes! Love is a cold and broken Hallelujah. Wow, Jack. You really have a way with words, don’t you?
A: Listen, Leonard, I donno what you are talking about. I just know I don’t have any idea when it comes to writing. You see, I don’t have any idea. When I think I have an idea, then I realize the idea actually has me.
B: Hey, Jack, this sounds dope. It is like saying: be careful of what you own for they will end up owning you.
A: Hmm. Sort of. …
B: It’s like saying, don’t ask what you can do for your country, but ask what your country can do for you…
A: Erm, okay, sure yes, right on. Hey, you want a gummy bear?
B: I don’t do marijuana. You know that.
A: That’s cool. Right on.
B: You know what you remind me of, Jack?
A: Hmm. Hmm. What?
B: Nothing. Nothing.
A: You sure you don’t want to try? It is sweet and you’ll fly freaking high…
B: No thanks, Jack. So, how much longer?
A: Just be patient. Getting there. Oh, are you bored?
B: A little.
A: Want some songs? I can sing.
B: What do you wanna sing?
A: When… the wind is blowing in your face… and the whole world is on your case… I would offer you a warm embrace… and make you feel my love….
B: Hey, whose song is it?
A: Oh, I just came up with it.
A: Yeah. I told you. I don’t have a clue. The clue has me. It is always like that.
B: But Jack, that sounds familiar. Like I have heard it somewhere…
A: Somewhere …… over the rainbow….
B: Did you write that one, too?
A: Oh? This. No, no. That’s by Bod Dylan.
B: Who the heck is Bod Dylan?
A: Oh, he is just some new kid around the corner. Heard that he came to town last week from some shit hole town in the Midwest.
B: Hey, shit hole town. That’s not a very nice way to say things, Jack.
A: Hey, Leonard, I am only trying to stay true to my inspiration. Take it or leave it. I don’t expect you to understand me. I don’t care if you don’t get me. If I feel I need to say fuck, I fuck it. I feel I need to say shit, I shit it.
B: How’s the gummy bear?
A: It is cool. In my country, we never believe in politicians. People who are in power don’t care about people. They want us to eat cake. We eat flowers and grass instead. Fuck them.
B: Yeah, right. I hear you. So, is that why are you selling gummy bears?
A: I just want to make myself happy and make other people happy and make some money. Why not? What are you doing what you are you doing, anyway, Steven?
B: Jack, are you high? We don’t have to talk about this again.
A: No, I am not.
B: You just called me Steven.
A: Aren’t you Steven? Oh, sorry, I meant Steve.
B: Jack, are you okay?
A: Ha-ha, why not, I’m swell. More than swell.
B: Okay, just checking.
A: When the wind is blowing in your face… and the whole world is on your case… I would offer you a warm embrace… to make you feel my love…
When the evening shadows and stars appear… and there is no one to dry your tears… I would hold you for a million years… to make you feel my love…
B: Hey, man, I’m gonna take a piss.
A: Go. I am still working on it. You don’t need my permission to pee.
B: Okay. Hey, do you mind if I grab a pen …
A: Hey, dude, don’t be a pussy. Grab it, man. Just do it. It is just a freaking pen.
In the bathroom, by the bathtub, half-naked, a man is facing the window, as the rain is coming down gently.
The sound of my penis. Silent.
The sound of my pen is silent.
The sound of my moving penis on still paper is barely audible.
The sound of my pen is silent.
The sound of my moving pen on still paper is barely audible.
The sound of my moving blue pen on still paper is barely audible because of the rain.
The sound of my moving blue pen on the still beige page is almost inaudible because of the rain.
I am lucky to have a bathroom with a view
I am lucky to have a bathtub for me to sit on
To write, to feel
The edge, clean and write,
is making my ass feeling chill,
waking up my senses,
as they have been on your couches, napping,
on my fences, procrastinating
A: Hey, that took you a while, Little Lenny.
B: Yeah, I went to take a dump, and something hit me. Like you said, an idea possessed me.
A: Yeah, right on. I hear you. What idea?
B: Tell you later. There yet?
A: Let me see. Almost. Almost.
B: What does it even mean?
A: Just be patient, Lenny.
B: Lenny? You never called me that.
A: I can call you that if you like. I can you Lionel if you prefer. Whatever makes you happy.
B: You know, Jack, I donno. When this is finally over, I would like to go out into that rain with you.
A: Dude, are you high? That’s some shit storm out there, beautiful, but still shitty. Did you hide in the bathroom to smoke?
B: Jack, you don’t get it. But maybe you will later.
A: You know what, this piece of crap is taking longer than I expected. Why don’t you go and take a nap?
B: Are you sure? You know I might be able to help.
A: Yeah, grab the pen, the pencil, the colour pencils. Whatever fuck you want and just slouch there on my sofa, slowly slouching towards Bethlehem…
Slouching towards Bethlehem…. Sounds funny. Why? Jack?
A: It is just a figure of speech, Nancy. Just go and fuck yourself on my couch and write yourself some fucking poems. And you can come to bother me later, okay?
On the couch. Leonard.
“The truth: Jack”
There is something I have been meaning to tell you.
Stop trying so hard to be cool.
Stop trying so hard.
You dick, you idiot, you pothead.
Chill and man up, will you?
You’re almost there:1500 words. Fuck the contest.
And we, too, are almost there. Fuck us.
Our fate, cannot be unread.
Our fate, our fate is worse than death.
— the end —–