Monday, March 30, 2015

Jonathan's Sadness: Fictional Short Story

Below is a short story I wrote for Creative Writing.  The first assignment was to choose a picture from any online gallery or museum.  After searching and not finding anything that truly grasped my attention, I looked at the local art university Savannah College of Art and Design (SCAD).  The visual art had to inspire us to create a fictional short story; not explain what the visual art was about.
I ended up receiving 100% for the story and with the comments of I have a great imagination and to continue writing!  She also commented that I should choose more words and phrases for names, because it can become repetitive, which I agree and will work on.
So, without any further typing, please enjoy!

Gustafson, A. (1943). Geopoliticus Child Watching the Birth of a New Man.

Jonathan’s Sadness

“NO!” exclaimed Jonathan as he rushed to the kitchen remembering he left the boiling spaghetti and the sauce simmering on the stove.  His worried face downsized to a frown when he looked upon the spaghetti, which boiled almost entirely dry; scorching the noodles.  He turned both burners off, and then stirred the sauce in hopes he did not burn the sauce as well.  To his disappointment the sauce charred.  The dinner is an utter disaster.  “I cannot eat this.  I will have to order something,” he thought to himself as he threw the pans into the sink.

He called for pizza and went back into the living room where he was watching the news; the reason for the ruined dinner.  A segment reporting about global warming struck his attention to the point of forgetting everything around him.  “Hurricane Theo has landed!  Winds of 160 miles per hour with gusts reaching 183; a category five!  New England has not seen this magnitude in centuries!” the weatherman reported excitingly.  Jonathan’s senses were glued to the news that he did not hear the pizza delivery person pull into the driveway or ring the doorbell.  The driver knocked very loud, which scared Jonathan to his feet.  The shock had lasted for only a few seconds before he realized what was making that racket.

 “Can you believe the weather in the north?” Jonathan asked the driver, but the deliveryman did not seem interested in small talk, he just gave an insolent smile to Jonathan, and requested the money due.  Returning the rude smile, he paid the man, took the pizza, shut the door, and sat back down in the living room.  The fragrance was inviting, but Jonathan’s mind was elsewhere in the world; still fixated on the news and the hurricane. 

Half-way through the first slice, Jonathan’s eyes bulged out of his head.  There was breaking news!  The anticipation overtook him.  “What happened with the hurricane?  Did it subside?  Did it increase?” he wondered.  Before he could ask any further questions in his mind, the anchor appeared and said, “There has been a new development.  There is now a second hurricane forming immediately behind Hurricane Theo!”  The reporter introduced another weather person, a female, for the details.  “This is unprecedented, Chuck,” she said and continued, “Hurricane Victor is stronger than Theo!  According to the data we collected from the Saffir-Simpson Hurricane Wind Scale, this hurricane is exceeding a category five!  These winds are estimated to be 210 with gusts of at least 235!”

Jonathan dropped his pizza and his mouth.  All he could think was, “This will destroy the northeast!”  Saltwater fell from his baby blues; forcing their way down the knoll of his cheeks and discovering the soft, plush comfort of the floor.  At that moment, everything seemed to stop.  He could not hear, see, feel, or comprehend anything.  His tired muscles refused to cooperate with his overfilled mind.  He just sat there in a daze while the faucet poured from his sockets.  Visually, he could see the news but could not process the information stated.  He watched but did not see.  The pain was too much for his body to grasp.  In fact, the power was so intense that his body surrendered; collapsing down in his chair; he let go; allowing his body to heal from the ordeal.  Sleep Jonathan, sleep soundly.

Two hours passed when Jonathan regained consciousness.  The pizza is now cold to the touch, and the smell vanished from the fresh, cooked aroma to stale and cold.  The news was still reporting on the devastation in the northeast, and the breaking news banner read: Hurricanes of the Millennium: Tragedy Immanent.  He tried to move, but his muscles tightened from sleeping in the chair, and from the heartbreaking weather situation occurring.  He eventually forced himself to move his foot to the side, and stepped on the cold pizza still resting on the floor.  For a moment, he could not process the information; the previous incident and what happened, he continued to be dazed and confused.  Like a brick hitting a wall, it all came flooding back.  Jonathan quickly focused his eyes on the television.  The first storm had passed through the land.  News reporters on the scene could not assess the devastation just yet because the second storm was not striking the shore.

The newscast mentioned they did not know how many left the area to flee the destruction.  They, as well as the government officials, did not know how many were in the wake of the path.  There were a few people left behind, but no one knows if they chose to stay, or if they could not escape due to the massive evacuation and limited time frame to evacuate.  Both weather events formed suddenly, almost as if they were created to murder as many as possible.  The news broadcast featured experts, but not one could explain the severity or reasoning for the occurrence.  This weather was new to every person on the earth.  The experts could only speculate on the outcome.  They all agreed there was one thing certain: there would be many deaths and properties would be unrecognizable.

Jonathan reclaims his functions, cleans up the slice off the carpet, enters the kitchen to throw away the garbage, and grabs the carpet cleaner and a cloth.  Back in the living room he sprays the carpet then dabs the spot with the rag. 

Meanwhile, the news – still blaring in the background – aims the attention toward the apocalyptic event.  The weather woman reports, “Hurricane Victor’s eye is now over New Hampshire.  We now have footage from those on the scene.  Ned, what do you see right now?”

“It’s unbelievable.  There are no words.  We – the cameraman and Ned – are on State Street where the Capital Building, government buildings, and stores used to be. It’s all levelled, Sally.  Where there once stood trees is now empty holes.  There are no signs of the trees that used to stand here.  They may be a block away or miles away; we just don’t know.”  The cameraman scans the area showing the desolation, when all of a sudden he screams and pans away.  “Oh my God, Sally!” the frightened weatherman shouts, “We cannot show that, and I’m sorry for those watching that did see it.”  A lifeless body on the ground, twisted and tattered as if it had been thrown into the air, smashed into something solid, and then shoved into the concrete. 

Jonathan’s alert to the shouting weatherman forces his eyes toward the television to watch in horror.  He missed the shot, but he can’t help wondering if that body was someone he knew.  “Please, don’t let it be,” he thought then realizing how selfish the thought was continued, “I hope it is just debris and not a person.  That way no one will suffer the loss.”  It was then a light bulb flashed upon his head; he did not even try to contact his family, but would he be able to?  He had to try.  He could not sit there wondering, knowing his entire family and friends were in the midst of that devilish storm.  While dialing the numbers, he wished he had visited more after leaving the north five years ago.  Jonathan began to feel like he abandoned his former life.  The feeling would be worse if they did not survive the terrible disaster, or escape in the first place.  He could not think that way.  He had to keep dialing, but every number he tried received the same message: “The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time.  Please try again later.” 

Frustrated, he ran to his computer to see if any had posted on a social media site, or maybe e-mailed him they all were safe.  Even though his cable connection worked adequately and quickly, it seemed like a lifetime passed before it connected.  Every second felt like an hour.  Every moment appeared to be a day.  The longer waiting time angered Jonathan.  He wanted to know yesterday!  Finally, he connected and was online, but there were no messages or postings.  There was nothing from his friends and nothing from his family.  He was alone in a dark room unable to answer any questions.  He frantically checked airline flights, but then smacked his palm on his head because no flight would be entering or exiting the area for quite some time.  For the first time in Jonathan’s life, he was useless. 

Minutes spun into hours, and at last the storm was diminished.  Days later the storm reportedly stole 125,000 souls and acquired approximately $15 billion in damage.  The Northeast was no longer lush with life.  It was now considered the wasteland.  During the process, Jonathan continued watching the news and a new social site dedicated to finding loved ones or the names of the unfortunate.  Five days after the storm left, Jonathan discovered the names of all his family members and a majority of friends on the expired pages. 


Bursting with grief, Jonathan pledged to visit his family’s properties, and leave his love and happiness with them forever.  He couldn’t be happy in his life after their lives were taken so violently and that he was too selfish when they were living.  Today is the first day of Jonathan’s sadness.

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