Wow! It's been too long since posting...

Here's a short story that I wrote last year for AP English Literature and Composition...there is a bit of language in it, stemming from the protagonist's heart. 

I'd love to see people analyze what I'm trying to say through this. It'd be a great exercise of literary analysis as well as seeing how effective my writing is. 

Decisions

           Life seemed good. And then I walked inside with the stack of bills, bills, more bills. When will they end? I shuffled through the various pieces of mail. All junk…wait. There, in the middle of the stack lay a tall white envelope. Separating it from the pile, I read on the front my name in gold lettering. I opened it to see a striped invitation with more gold lettering. It asked for the honor of my presence at the burial of…Mr. Donahue. Mr. Donahue… I stared blankly into space and remembered our first fearful encounter.

                                               

I had been sent to the top floor to deliver some documents to Mr. Donahue’s secretary; a trial for my first day.  I shivered as the elevator door opened into a very spacious waiting area.  Except for the pale light coming in through the windows on the left wall, the room rested in darkness and was unoccupied.  In the middle of the opposite wall loomed two large doors with dark wood paneling. I started to softly tip-toed across the room towards the glass to look out over the shrouded city.  I looked down to see me glaring at myself in the black marble floor.  Silence, except for the whisper of the air conditioning, crowded the empty room.

“Ahem…over here,” said a slightly annoyed voice. I spun around and peered into the darkest corner to see a woman coolly staring at me from a desk. Her blonde, almost white hair contrasted with her black suit.

I hurriedly strode over to the desk and nervously held out the papers to her, embarrassed at my blunder. How the hell did I not see her? She simply stared at me, so I carefully put it down on the desk with a forced smile. Come on…don’t screw it up! I promptly turned and headed for the elevator. As I pressed the red “down” button and the doors parted, I heard a new voice, deep and rich and less stone-like than the first, less like the marble I walked upon.

“I pride myself on knowing everyone in my company, but you…I haven’t ever seen you. You must be new.” The words, careful and purposeful, stopped me and drew me to turn around yet again. I hadn’t seen him before but I knew it was him. Mr. Donahue. His aura of power was heightened by his strong jaw-line and wavy, jet-black hair.

“Mr…Donahue…uh, yes, Mr. Donahue,” I stuttered. “Today’s my first day.” He smirked menacingly and, with hand outstretched, seemed to glide towards me. I complied with my own. His hand…so firm…so cold…

“Good to finally have you in my company. It’s good to know you’ll be staying for a very long while.” he slowly said with a nod. His captivating words held me motionless. And then “You may leave me...for now.”

 

It is the day of the funeral. So I stand upstairs slipping into my black jacket of my black suit and I hold no comprehension as to why I am going. Why am I wasting my time on this man? He would have kept us in his company for eternity. Work, work, work...that’s what we would have done.  And now that’s he finally gone and I’m free, I’m about to go remember him, supposedly sad that he’s gone. I’m just going to ruin my day standing somber for that...man. Sigh. Have a little heart I suppose. He was a great man; he just didn’t have any friends. I shouldn’t hate my boss like that. I should feel bad for him, but I don’t.  Sigh...sigh…fine. I will go to the funeral of a man whom I hate.   Finished getting ready, I slowly step downstairs, begrudging every step closer to the funeral. 

Opening my faded front door, I look up and down my street, a familiar sight, but one that always hits me. It looks so lifeless, so empty; they all leave in the morning fog and return in darkness to their so-called fortresses. I hope you all escape like I have done.  I look up into the sky and see bright skies, unexpected, but welcome after a week of rain. The sun’s rays, penetrating my skin, awaken a deep stirring at my core. Momentarily, I forget my journey and bask in a comfort I remember. But there are so many better things out there. I pull myself away and I place my hand on the handle of my car and I slide inside. I pull out of the driveway and start driving the few winding miles to the cemetery. Looking out once again, the clouds now cover the sun and I’m driving in a shadow.

It will be good to see him there in the casket.  I steadily drive on, with every minute dreading seeing his face again, even dead. See it finished. See him gone forever. Then suddenly, I find myself driving parallel to the cemetery’s iron fence. I glance to my right to see through the fence’s blur the hundreds of stones, each testifying to a forgotten life.

Finally, the entrance to the cemetery grows steadily larger. Even this far down the road, I see the parking lot, packed to its core. My shock rises at the possibility of Mr. Donahue having a crowd at his burial. Why? People hated this man…Pulling in, I find one last space. Still surprised, I slowly turn my car off and hunker out. It appears that I might be late, for I see no one else arriving. My gold watch affirms my suspicion. Crap. Bending down towards my car’s reflection of me, my eyes see my askew tie and hair blown around by the wind. I suppose I need to look sharp. My hands make the adjustments. Standing straight, I start walking briskly towards the gated entrance that opens to the cemetery lawn. Faint echoes of music fly to meet me as I walk. At the gate, a silver sign and arrow directs me onward: “Donahue Funeral” From here, the faint sound of song and occasional cheers meet with the sight; my eyes see a great throng of people standing on a hill off in the distance. What were the odds of that? None of the people are dressed in usual mournful blacks and grays. I only see reds and yellows and whites and colors of spring and summer on the hill. What in the world? I squint to see more clearly. What is going on? Before I realize what I’m doing, my feet have already carried me there. People, everywhere, old and young, in dresses and rags, dance lively to the floating melodies of the music that plays. I stand on the outside of the great crowd, utterly speechless and confused as to what is going on. Pushing, almost swimming, my way through the crowd, I see the dark wooden casket, terribly plain and unadorned. Forgetting what is going on all around me, I peer inside to see his dead face, pale and empty. He is gone.

I walk back amidst the great party that jumps and laughs and sings and shouts. What kind of funeral is this? Now I’m standing once again on the outskirts of those happy, rejoicing people. Still confused, I look to the skies for an answer and the sun shines on the crowd hill as brightly as ever. I close my eyes to try to understand. Never mind…it’s not worth it. I open my eyes and there is a hand on my shoulder. “Quite the party, isn’t it? Those stupid people, believing all those lies. Come on, let’s go get a coffee.” Mr. Donahue…oh God.