Monday, June 30, 2008

The Last Morning



As night gave way to the first light of dawn, Tony pointed his .45 at the horizon and emptied the cartridge. But the sun kept rising, day crawling ever closer, unstoppable.

“Fuck you,” he muttered, ejecting the clip. None of us wanted this day to arrive. Not Tony, not Ruiz, not Jimmy, and not me. About 30 feet from us lay Michael in the spot where he’d bled to death sometime in the night, the only one that wasn’t going to see this day and the only one of us that might’ve wanted to.



They say that everything happens for a reason but that seems like nothing more than a mundane truism to me. Of course everything happens for a reason. Someone drinks 13 cans of Budweiser then drives their car into oncoming traffic. Or someone gets mad and shoots somebody else’s son or daughter. Action and reaction. Cause and effect. But that’s not what they’re talking about, I suppose. They’re talking about a “higher purpose.” Some kind of grand design. Sure, whatever. I don’t know about any of that. I don’t know about anything anymore and I’ve spent most of the night doing nothing but proving that to myself again and again.

I look over at Tony now, sitting in the sand, his legs pulled up to his chest, his forehead on his knees. There are hours yet to go. I watch that sun climb ever higher into the cloudless sky and think, “Yeah, he’s right. Fuck this day. And fuck all the days to come after it.”

6 comments:

justin said...

i wouldn't mind shooting at the day every once in awhile, maybe it would help??

Holt Webb said...

You write very well. I enjoy reading your posts. They have a sort of Norman Mailer meets Mickey Spillane sort of feel to them.

Are they snippets of a book to come, or simply thoughts and musings that come to mind in a particular environment?

Jmhouse said...

Thanks, Holt. Yeah, I do love lots of noir authors. Everyone from James Ellroy to Dashiell Hammett. Even some of the more mainstream guys like Michael Connelly. I've only read Norman Mailer's Marilyn Monroe book, but I especially like Mickey Spillane's Kiss Me, Deadly. So, yeah, the influences are surely there.

I did do a longer series of posts under the heading, "A Loss for Words." That was kinda the only longer fiction I've done lately. I dunno where this new thing is going, if anywhere. Otherwise, pretty much everything gets thrown up. Musings, pure fiction, slightly altered autobiography and a couple PURE autobiographical bits which hopefully blend in with the rest. No real book plans though!

Thanks again and I look forward to following your Vanishing America project.

Best,

John

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WooleyBugger said...

Your writing style is much better than mine I must admit. This is really good stuff to read, like...like short news blurts or something.

jmhouse said...

Thank you. That's very kind. I like to write short little vignettes or whatever you call 'em. Your comment reminds me that I would like to spend more time at it. Thanks for the inspiration!

John