very rough draft
"We didn't do it"
"What"
"when I was a boy they said we would live on the moon"
He wets his lips, "is that important?"
"Its something I've thought about for years. The world is slow and lumbering, bloated and infected."
"Do you want to sleep, are you comfortable? I can call a nurse."
"No. And don't leave, just listen. Listen to this, because if you are who i have raised you to be, you feel as I do now. I feel this pressure in my chest like someone forcing air into my lungs whenever i think on this. The bomb, jets, the microwave, even down to latex condoms. Things were changing so wonderfully and this arch of creation seemed to spread across everything. Then it faltered and was brought to its knees to crawl and beg for attention and scraps. People are smothered by each other, petty squabbles about borders and gods while humanity is choked to death and the devoured to feed the great few. There is only so much that this world is blessed with."
"We don't have to talk to about this, nobody should dwell on it. Especially the way you are now."
"I have been one of those people who was frightened and afraid to move forward. To break through and trudge on, despite the world. I've hung my head in shame when I watch TV and see the few men of this world who have taken so much and given back nothing. These are not creators but scavengers and parasites, no! They are avalanches tearing down on one another, building and growing leaving a flattened wake. I, just one man-ANY MAN- can stand up to this roaring chaos. Yet, here now in the end i have wasted my life. Created nothing. Changed nothing of this world and was bowed over forever to be lost in the tumble. You must see me as i am and make yourself the man I should have been."
he was sweating now, on the edge of tears for a reason he could did not want to acknowledge.
Wait, he was frightened. the last time he had dealt with this fear was as a young boy. waking up in the night with thoughts of death and the mortality of his existence. Those black nights trapped in the infinity of his mind, huddled in his bedsheets staring at the outline of the bedroom door, wanting to cry out for his mother or the man dying next to him now.
Someoneto come and hold him, stroke his hair, wipe his tears and let him sleep in the warm ignorance of a parent's promise that everything will be okay.
"You know what I speak of! can you even breath?" His father grabbed his hand with a strength that surprised him.
"The only thing in my life that gives me any joy and true satisfaction is you! It matters nothing who you have become but only that you are here as my son and you understand these words. if you can not follow my advice then i understand for here i am at the end and i couldn't not heed them. but you are a man, something of endless potential and i have created you in my image. it is as close as humans can come to god for he aspired to nothing more after creating man as well. and i know his joy now. we are meant for wonderful things, humans. we must progress and as my son you must continue. the only thing of value i have to leave you is to allow you to understand this fear resides in all true men. how can we be afraid of what was handed to us by god. to flourish and create. even this world have limits but the human mind does not. if you look up one day and there before you is a sucking wind and the worlds monsters have began to tumble down upon you then you can stand against them and other men in the world will stand with you. the human condition can only be numbed but not broken. but i want you to know that it should have been me and you to build that unbreakable wall. more than just an immovable object, something to shatter the perpetual motion of others. scatter their unfocused thoughts and throw them across the world. leaving only the lasting image of two true men burned into their brow and buried deep in their thoughts. so please tell your son what i know you feel and what only now in my last moments have had the courage to say to you. we are humans, and without us this world and universe means nothing. it's a great responsibility, this fear and numbness you feel is what this world of destroyers have conditioned you to feel. but any man can take whats rightfully his, his humanity, and create whatever he so desires.
the son was blinking back tears and was now grasping onto his father's arm. attempting to hold onto this surge of life from the husk of a man who once was so large and invincible. he wanted to cry out as a child once more. I CAN'T!... and he did. it only came as a whimper, muffled by tears and spit.
you must.
The Man left stepped out onto the street clutching a small plastic bag. He shuffled down the steps of the hospital with the contents of the bag slapping his thigh. He could feel his father's well-worn leather wallet filled with frayed pictures of himself and a two-dollar bill. Stumbling on the final step He braced himself on a trash can. A strong gust moved up the street and pressed against him, moving through his clothes and working its way into his bones. Staring into the dark hole of the trash can, he dropped the bag and watched it disappear. At that moment it was gone forever, the darkness swallowing it.
"What"
"when I was a boy they said we would live on the moon"
He wets his lips, "is that important?"
"Its something I've thought about for years. The world is slow and lumbering, bloated and infected."
"Do you want to sleep, are you comfortable? I can call a nurse."
"No. And don't leave, just listen. Listen to this, because if you are who i have raised you to be, you feel as I do now. I feel this pressure in my chest like someone forcing air into my lungs whenever i think on this. The bomb, jets, the microwave, even down to latex condoms. Things were changing so wonderfully and this arch of creation seemed to spread across everything. Then it faltered and was brought to its knees to crawl and beg for attention and scraps. People are smothered by each other, petty squabbles about borders and gods while humanity is choked to death and the devoured to feed the great few. There is only so much that this world is blessed with."
"We don't have to talk to about this, nobody should dwell on it. Especially the way you are now."
"I have been one of those people who was frightened and afraid to move forward. To break through and trudge on, despite the world. I've hung my head in shame when I watch TV and see the few men of this world who have taken so much and given back nothing. These are not creators but scavengers and parasites, no! They are avalanches tearing down on one another, building and growing leaving a flattened wake. I, just one man-ANY MAN- can stand up to this roaring chaos. Yet, here now in the end i have wasted my life. Created nothing. Changed nothing of this world and was bowed over forever to be lost in the tumble. You must see me as i am and make yourself the man I should have been."
he was sweating now, on the edge of tears for a reason he could did not want to acknowledge.
Wait, he was frightened. the last time he had dealt with this fear was as a young boy. waking up in the night with thoughts of death and the mortality of his existence. Those black nights trapped in the infinity of his mind, huddled in his bedsheets staring at the outline of the bedroom door, wanting to cry out for his mother or the man dying next to him now.
Someoneto come and hold him, stroke his hair, wipe his tears and let him sleep in the warm ignorance of a parent's promise that everything will be okay.
"You know what I speak of! can you even breath?" His father grabbed his hand with a strength that surprised him.
"The only thing in my life that gives me any joy and true satisfaction is you! It matters nothing who you have become but only that you are here as my son and you understand these words. if you can not follow my advice then i understand for here i am at the end and i couldn't not heed them. but you are a man, something of endless potential and i have created you in my image. it is as close as humans can come to god for he aspired to nothing more after creating man as well. and i know his joy now. we are meant for wonderful things, humans. we must progress and as my son you must continue. the only thing of value i have to leave you is to allow you to understand this fear resides in all true men. how can we be afraid of what was handed to us by god. to flourish and create. even this world have limits but the human mind does not. if you look up one day and there before you is a sucking wind and the worlds monsters have began to tumble down upon you then you can stand against them and other men in the world will stand with you. the human condition can only be numbed but not broken. but i want you to know that it should have been me and you to build that unbreakable wall. more than just an immovable object, something to shatter the perpetual motion of others. scatter their unfocused thoughts and throw them across the world. leaving only the lasting image of two true men burned into their brow and buried deep in their thoughts. so please tell your son what i know you feel and what only now in my last moments have had the courage to say to you. we are humans, and without us this world and universe means nothing. it's a great responsibility, this fear and numbness you feel is what this world of destroyers have conditioned you to feel. but any man can take whats rightfully his, his humanity, and create whatever he so desires.
the son was blinking back tears and was now grasping onto his father's arm. attempting to hold onto this surge of life from the husk of a man who once was so large and invincible. he wanted to cry out as a child once more. I CAN'T!... and he did. it only came as a whimper, muffled by tears and spit.
you must.
The Man left stepped out onto the street clutching a small plastic bag. He shuffled down the steps of the hospital with the contents of the bag slapping his thigh. He could feel his father's well-worn leather wallet filled with frayed pictures of himself and a two-dollar bill. Stumbling on the final step He braced himself on a trash can. A strong gust moved up the street and pressed against him, moving through his clothes and working its way into his bones. Staring into the dark hole of the trash can, he dropped the bag and watched it disappear. At that moment it was gone forever, the darkness swallowing it.