To Wake is the earlier draft, and I wanted to use colours to draw out certain emotions.
Jack is the draft I submitted to the CBC Canada Writes Short Story contest last year, and obviously I didn't win (If I won, everone who knew me would have known about it :D
Both drafts were written within an 8 hour time span. To Wake took about 4 hours, and Jack took an additional 4 hours with a draft reader.
I'm going to try again this year for the CBC Short Story contest. Enjoy, and post any comments about which draft you like better. Personally, I liked To Wake, but I think both needed a lot of work.
------
To Wake
When I woke up, we had already crossed
into Manitoba. The great yellow plains appeared dry and empty. An
occasional line of trees scored the infinite realm of bison past. The
trees were out of place here. I wanted to get off the train and just
walk for a few hours, my toes touching the calm cold straw. I wanted
to be alone. That would have been one of the worst ideas I’ve had
in my lifetime. If I hadn’t been with Kevin and Sarah and if they
haven’t kept me talking, cornering me at that table, I would have
killed myself. I would have followed the footsteps of my one friend
in the world and left the train. He just left the train a few hours
ago, in a pill induced delirium that took his consciousness and his
pain away.
My eyes were
assaulted with hues of yellow and green. There was so much more green
here than I’ve ever experienced. With a childhood spent hiding in
piles of leaves raked as tall as men, I thought I’d be immune to
the effects of the wild. I complained that every city should have
more green. Now my wishes are fulfilled, and then some more. Beware
of what you wish for.
I wanted her out of my life. And I
tossed out every single part of my life still connected to that dying
relationship. She wanted to remain friends, and at first I thought
that was the most mature path for both of us. But the love had died
and there was nothing left in my heart – not even friendship. I
swore to her that I wanted her to leave and to never call me back. I
made her swear on my life that she’d never look back. Yes, I will
kill myself if she tries to contact me ever again. She cried when I
told her that with a straight face.
It’s a strange kind of threat, an
unimaginable curse. It is passive aggressive, very unfair,
counterproductive, and perhaps morally wrong – but it gets the job
done. Threatening to destroy myself and then carrying out that threat
has always been most successful in getting what I really want –
which is to be able to control how I feel. I haven’t had much luck
in this world when it comes to having my voice heard. I am silent.
I’m still silent to this day. I feel like no one listens to me and
the more I scream and rail and throw temper tantrums, the worse the
world treats me.
The only one who listened was Jack, who
is regretfully no longer with me. In the middle of the night, I
called someone on the train and mentioned that Jack hadn’t moved a
lick since eight o’clock in the morning, almost sixteen hours ago.
He was so casual about it most people just thought he was sleeping.
But I knew. I was complicit. I was really surprised that he moved up
the timeline, since he mentioned he was leaving in Winnipeg at the
earliest, and Hinton at the latest. But I knew the moment we met each
other at the departure gate that we had similar aims in life, or to
be more accurate, in non-life. The train stopped dead. The paramedics
came, and his seat, once warm and littered with cookie crumbs and
candy wrappers, now sit clinically silent and still.
It’s amazing what ten hours locked up
in a steel drum will do for friendship. Right off the bat he offered
me chips and a sip of his dollar-store cola. I took a chip, but
declined the cola. I wanted to give him some nuts I brought, but he
said he’s allergic. So I gave him an orange. The bright orange
played nicely against the lemon and lime whipping by us outside the
windows. He spit out the pips and said that he liked mandarin
oranges! I was really happy because that means I picked out the right
oranges in the market. As the sun set, I led him to the area where
all the people gathered for games and chit chat. I could tell he
wasn’t used to being around people – I brought him slowly into a
group, and told him we could leave at any time. The girls across the
aisle were looking at us, and he just stared at them. I wanted to
tell him to stop staring, but it’s ok – looking never did anyone
any harm, right?
That evening, I dined alone. I was so
used to being alone that I ignored Jack and his way of asking me to
dinner. He showed me the menu for the dining car, and asked, “A
T-bone steak, oh boy, that’s something really special isn’t it?”
The dialogue was a monologue because I
didn’t say anything back to him. So naturally I can’t write a
dialogue into this story. But I can imagine what I should have said
to him, “Hey I don’t really like T-bone, but I want this chicken
stew they have. And maybe some soup. And that bread that you said was
really good.”
I ate my trail mix in silence. And he
got up to buy another chocolate bar. And he stuffed his face with
junk food just like I stuffed mine. That’s probably where it all
started to come apart.
In the morning, he told me that I
looked uncomfortable when I slept. “I was ok last night. How did
you sleep?” “OK.” Later I found out from other passengers that
he didn’t sleep at all that night. I was oblivious.
In Manitoba, I thought about Jack a
lot. Everyone on the train was gossiping about what happened. Kevin
and Sarah accosted me and I forced myself to talk convincingly about
random things like tar sands and philosophy and the state of public
health and education. These subjects I can pretend to know very well,
but all that time I was really thinking about leaving this world on a
moving train speeding through the night. How very romantic it all
seemed, and how cold I felt now that he left. No one else talked to
him, but we were train friends. And he’s gone. And I could have
told someone earlier about our intentions. But I didn’t. And now,
that nihilism I felt turned into water – and that water turned to
regret.
I cried.
I’d like to believe angels heard me
cry, because angels sent Kevin and Sarah. I owe them my life. Over
the next few days, I spent a lot of time with them. We laughed,
plotted stories and fantasies about our future lives. I found joy
again in the greens and yellows outside the window, and I can feel
the beginning tendrils of love and friendship binding the three of
us. I never understood how I got to this point, but I can have new
friends! And they can help me to stay alive!
Mentally, I never left that train. It’s
one of the recall techniques that work to keep me in this world. I
started seeing a doctor and I still keep in touch with Kevin and
Sarah to this day.
Today, three years since that train
ride, I got a call.
“Hi, do you want a chip?”
My heart skipped a beat. “Only if
it’s Doritos Sweet Chili Heat.”
“Yes it is. Do you want a T-bone
steak?”
“Not really. I don’t like T-bone.
But if they have chicken stew I’m good.”
The line went silent. There was
awkwardness in the air.
“So you’re alive?”
“Yes. They took me to Thunder Bay and
I stayed there for a long time. I’m better now.”
“So am I.”
------
Jack
When I woke up, we
had already crossed into Manitoba. The great yellow plains appeared
dry and empty. An occasional line of trees scored the infinite realm
of bison past. The trees were out of place here. I wanted to get off
the train and just walk for a few hours, my toes touching the calm
cold straw. I wanted to be alone. That would have been one of the
worst ideas I’ve had in my lifetime. If I hadn’t been with Kevin
and Sarah and if they haven’t kept me talking, cornering me at that
table, I would have killed myself. I would have followed the
footsteps of my one friend in the world and left the train. He was
carried off the train a few hours ago, in a pill induced delirium
that took his consciousness and his pain away.
I thought back to
the forests of northern Ontario, where my eyes were assaulted with
hues of green and yellow. There was so much more green there than
I’ve ever experienced before. With a childhood spent hiding in
piles of leaves raked as tall as men, I thought I’d be immune to
the effects of the wild. But all that green and yellow brought out
the worst clichés in me – my fear and envy of those people who
hurt me.
I wanted her out of
my life. And I tossed out every single part of my life still
connected to that dying relationship. She wanted to remain friends,
and at first I thought that was the most mature path for both of us.
But the love had died and there was nothing left in my heart – not
even friendship. I swore to her that I wanted her to leave and to
never call me back. I made her swear on my life that she’d never
look back. Yes, I would kill myself if she tries to contact me ever
again. She cried when I told her that with a straight face.
It’s a strange
kind of threat, an unimaginable curse. It is passive aggressive, very
unfair, counterproductive, and perhaps morally wrong – but it gets
the job done. Threatening to destroy myself and then carrying out
that threat has always been most successful in getting what I really
want – which is to be able to control how I feel. I haven’t had
much luck in this world when it comes to having my voice heard. I am
silent. I’m still silent to this day. I feel like no one listens to
me and the more I scream and rail and throw temper tantrums, the
worse the world treats me.
The only one who
listened was Jack, who regretfully was no longer on the train with
us. In the middle of the night, I called someone and mentioned that
Jack hadn’t moved a lick since eight o’clock in the morning,
almost sixteen hours ago. His overdose on prescription antipsychotic
and antiemetic drugs was staged so casually most people just thought
he was sleeping. But I knew. I was complicit. I was really surprised
that he moved up the timeline, since he mentioned he was leaving in
Winnipeg at the earliest, and Hinton at the latest. But I knew the
moment we first met each other at the departure gate that we had
similar aims in life, or to be more accurate, in non-life. The train
stopped dead. The paramedics came, and his seat, once warm and
littered with cookie crumbs and candy wrappers, now sat clinically
silent and still.
It’s amazing what
ten hours locked up in a steel drum will do for friendship. Right off
the bat he offered me chips and a sip of his dollar-store cola. I
took a chip, but declined the cola. I wanted to give him some nuts I
brought, but he said he’s allergic. So I gave him an orange. The
bright orange played nicely against the lemon and lime colours
whipping by us outside the windows. He spit out the pips and said
that he liked mandarin oranges! I was really happy because that means
I had picked out the right oranges in the market. As the sun set, I
led him to the area where all the people gathered for games and chit
chat. I could tell he wasn’t used to being around people – I
brought him slowly into a group, and told him we could leave at any
time. The girls across the aisle were looking at us, and he just
stared at them. I wanted to tell him to stop staring, but it’s ok –
looking never did anyone any harm, right?
That evening, I
dined alone. I was so used to being alone that I ignored Jack and his
way of asking me to dinner. He showed me the menu for the dining car,
and asked, “A T-bone steak, oh boy, that’s something really
special isn’t it?”
The dialogue was a
monologue because I didn’t say anything back to him. So naturally I
can’t write a dialogue into this story. But I can imagine what I
should have said to him, “Hey I don’t really like T-bone, but I
want this chicken stew they have. And maybe some soup. And that bread
that you said was really good.”
I ate my trail mix
in silence. And he got up to buy another chocolate bar. And he
stuffed his face with junk food just like I stuffed mine. That’s
probably where it all started to come apart.
Early in the
morning, he told me that I looked uncomfortable when I slept. I
replied, “I was all right last night. How did you sleep?” “OK,”
he answered. That was our last conversation. Later I found out from
other passengers that he didn’t sleep at all.
In Manitoba, I
thought about Jack a lot. Everyone on the train was gossiping about
what happened. Kevin and Sarah noticed my growing silence and
accosted me. I forced myself to talk convincingly about random things
like tar sands and philosophy and the state of public health and
education. These subjects I can pretend to know very well, but all
that time I was really thinking about leaving this world on a moving
train speeding through the night. How very romantic it all seemed,
and how cold I felt now that he left. No one else talked to him, but
we were train friends. And he’s gone. And I could have told someone
earlier about our intentions. But I didn’t. And now, that nihilism
I felt turned into water – and that water turned to regret.
I cried as everyone
else slept. I’d like to believe angels heard me cry, because angels
sent Kevin and Sarah to watch over me. I owe them my life. Over the
next few days, I spent a lot of time with them. We laughed and
plotted stories and fantasies about our future lives. I found joy
again in the greens and yellows outside the window, and I could feel
the beginning tendrils of love and friendship binding the three of
us. I never understood how I got to this point, but I can have new
friends! And they can help me to stay alive!
Mentally, I never left that train. It’s one of the recall
techniques that work to keep me in this world. I started seeing a
doctor and I still keep in touch with Kevin and Sarah to this day.
Today, three years
since that train ride, I got a call.
“Hi, do you want
some chips?”
My heart skipped a
beat. I recognized that voice. But I’m a much different person now.
And ghosts can’t talk. Can they?
“Only if it’s
Doritos Sweet Chili Heat,” I replied.
“Yes it is. Do you
want a T-bone steak?”
“Not really. I
don’t like T-bone. But if they have chicken stew I’m good.”
The line went
silent. There was awkwardness in the air.
“I was really
worried about you. I thought you were dead.”
“Yes, I thought so
too. They flew me to Thunder Bay and I stayed there for a long time.
The doctors told me that you were the one who got me off the train. I
just wanted to tell you that I’m better now.”
“I can tell. I’m
better now too. I’m glad that we’re both still here.”
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