Chapter 14 - Drowning
Submitted January 13, 2008 Updated April 6, 2010 Status Incomplete | Okay, so, the other day I was thinking (scary, huh?). I have no way to share my short stories other than creating a story thing for each. why not just have one whole 'story' for short stories? so, here we are. Just Because.
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Chapter 14 - Drowning
Chapter 14 - Drowning
Drowning
There isn’t much to look forward to in this world. The world is black, with all its murder and theft. The world is a slum, filled with slime and dung. There is nothing but tombstones everywhere I turn.
Then again, I’m in a graveyard. That’s to be expected, I guess.
Speaking frankly, though, all my friends and family are dead; I really do just see tombstones every day of every week. I have a routine and I see a new family member or friend every day. I travel to their grave site, bearing flowers, and I say a few prayers for their restful sleep. One would think this was depressing and bad for my health; maybe border on the obsessive.
But this sort of thing, it makes me happy. It reminds me I’m still alive; it reminds me I can make new friends and new family. So I’m not depressed; I’m quite happy with my life.
Even if life in this world is rather pointless.
Well, I’m at a new gravesite this evening. I’ve never been to his before. I never even met him. He was my great uncle, some guy named Peter Icarus. Someone told me his was famous, way back when. Now, he’s just another skeleton in the ground, marked only by a grave no one visits. You can tell no one’s been here in years because of all the dust and vines on his grave.
I smile and sigh, reaching out to clean off the dust and vines. One thing I can’t stand is abandonment, and it’s quite obvious this grave has been abandoned.
Wiping off the dust and ripping out the vines, I notice something about this grave. It is very different from pervious ones; the lettering is old, the stone is rough and jagged, and the stone tombstone only tells his date of death.
It was as if Peter Icarus had never been born.
The stone read:
Peter Icarus
? – 1956
THE ONLY REAL HERO
TEXAS WILL EVER KNOW.
Hero? It makes me wonder what kind of hero he was; I wonder what he did in Texas.
Whatever he did must have been forgotten, since the tombstone is in such disrepair.
“Icarus ain’t gonna bite chya,” a voice states behind me. I jump, turning on my heel to face a man who looks to be in his fourties. He smiles with crooked, yellow teeth, the lines around his eyes and smile tell me he’s been around for quite a while. He stands on the path, leaning on a thick cane.
“Didna mean ta scare ya, fella,” the man hobbles over to me, placing each step with careful consideration.
“Did you know him, sir?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Wish I did,” the man laughs, “but no, my mother knew ‘im. He saved ‘er life.”
“Did your mother not come with you?”
I catch him off guard with the question, but he responds. “Nah, but I’ll be joining her real soon. We’ll be together for a long time, her an’ me.”
I kick myself mentally. “Sorry, sir…”
“Nah, it’s a’right, I get the question oftin’,” the man stops in front of Peter’s grave, looking upon the tombstone and flowers I had sat on top.
“Did yer daddy know ‘im, son?” the man asks without turning his head.
“No, sir, but he is family,” I smile at the old man. “I don’t really know which side of the family, but he was supposedly a great uncle of mine.”
“Well, yer lucky, son, yer related to a great man.”
“What did he do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
The man looks at me and smiles. “He saved a whole lot of people from drownin’ in the Gulf, when a big cruise ship had a bit of engine trouble. Blew the whole thing sky high, but Icarus…he was jus’ a fisher from a little town north east of Freeport. He was out that day in the Gulf and he saw the ship goin’ down. He went to the ship and he saved ‘em, most of ‘em anyway. He went on the ship to try and save others, but…that’s when the ship blew. Threw poor Icarus off the ship, but threw him with enough force ta knock ‘im out and send him under the water.” The man paused and turned his body towards me, looking into my eyes. “Yer great uncle drowned in the Gulf after savin’ almost three hundred people with his tiny fishin’ boat. He sacrificed himself, kid.”
I smile at the man, then glance at the tombstone. “But no one takes care of his grave.”
“Cuz no one appreciates what he did anymore. They’ve all but forgotten.”
“Except you.”
“Yup, ‘cept me. I’m still here, and I’ve got a good memory. My mother asked me to take care of his grave every year for her, and I will.”
I nod and smile. “Well, I’m glad he won’t be forgotten.”
“Yup. And since you know now, I’ll pass on that responsibility to you. You won’t forget him, will you?”
“Of course not.”
The man smiles. “I’m glad.”
I turn back to the grave. “Do you think he knew he was going to die?”
The man didn’t reply. I glance to where he was beside me, but he’s gone.
“Sir?” I turn my head, trying to find him. But he’s disappeared.
Author's note: can anyone figure out who the stranger was?? :D
There isn’t much to look forward to in this world. The world is black, with all its murder and theft. The world is a slum, filled with slime and dung. There is nothing but tombstones everywhere I turn.
Then again, I’m in a graveyard. That’s to be expected, I guess.
Speaking frankly, though, all my friends and family are dead; I really do just see tombstones every day of every week. I have a routine and I see a new family member or friend every day. I travel to their grave site, bearing flowers, and I say a few prayers for their restful sleep. One would think this was depressing and bad for my health; maybe border on the obsessive.
But this sort of thing, it makes me happy. It reminds me I’m still alive; it reminds me I can make new friends and new family. So I’m not depressed; I’m quite happy with my life.
Even if life in this world is rather pointless.
Well, I’m at a new gravesite this evening. I’ve never been to his before. I never even met him. He was my great uncle, some guy named Peter Icarus. Someone told me his was famous, way back when. Now, he’s just another skeleton in the ground, marked only by a grave no one visits. You can tell no one’s been here in years because of all the dust and vines on his grave.
I smile and sigh, reaching out to clean off the dust and vines. One thing I can’t stand is abandonment, and it’s quite obvious this grave has been abandoned.
Wiping off the dust and ripping out the vines, I notice something about this grave. It is very different from pervious ones; the lettering is old, the stone is rough and jagged, and the stone tombstone only tells his date of death.
It was as if Peter Icarus had never been born.
The stone read:
Peter Icarus
? – 1956
THE ONLY REAL HERO
TEXAS WILL EVER KNOW.
Hero? It makes me wonder what kind of hero he was; I wonder what he did in Texas.
Whatever he did must have been forgotten, since the tombstone is in such disrepair.
“Icarus ain’t gonna bite chya,” a voice states behind me. I jump, turning on my heel to face a man who looks to be in his fourties. He smiles with crooked, yellow teeth, the lines around his eyes and smile tell me he’s been around for quite a while. He stands on the path, leaning on a thick cane.
“Didna mean ta scare ya, fella,” the man hobbles over to me, placing each step with careful consideration.
“Did you know him, sir?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Wish I did,” the man laughs, “but no, my mother knew ‘im. He saved ‘er life.”
“Did your mother not come with you?”
I catch him off guard with the question, but he responds. “Nah, but I’ll be joining her real soon. We’ll be together for a long time, her an’ me.”
I kick myself mentally. “Sorry, sir…”
“Nah, it’s a’right, I get the question oftin’,” the man stops in front of Peter’s grave, looking upon the tombstone and flowers I had sat on top.
“Did yer daddy know ‘im, son?” the man asks without turning his head.
“No, sir, but he is family,” I smile at the old man. “I don’t really know which side of the family, but he was supposedly a great uncle of mine.”
“Well, yer lucky, son, yer related to a great man.”
“What did he do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
The man looks at me and smiles. “He saved a whole lot of people from drownin’ in the Gulf, when a big cruise ship had a bit of engine trouble. Blew the whole thing sky high, but Icarus…he was jus’ a fisher from a little town north east of Freeport. He was out that day in the Gulf and he saw the ship goin’ down. He went to the ship and he saved ‘em, most of ‘em anyway. He went on the ship to try and save others, but…that’s when the ship blew. Threw poor Icarus off the ship, but threw him with enough force ta knock ‘im out and send him under the water.” The man paused and turned his body towards me, looking into my eyes. “Yer great uncle drowned in the Gulf after savin’ almost three hundred people with his tiny fishin’ boat. He sacrificed himself, kid.”
I smile at the man, then glance at the tombstone. “But no one takes care of his grave.”
“Cuz no one appreciates what he did anymore. They’ve all but forgotten.”
“Except you.”
“Yup, ‘cept me. I’m still here, and I’ve got a good memory. My mother asked me to take care of his grave every year for her, and I will.”
I nod and smile. “Well, I’m glad he won’t be forgotten.”
“Yup. And since you know now, I’ll pass on that responsibility to you. You won’t forget him, will you?”
“Of course not.”
The man smiles. “I’m glad.”
I turn back to the grave. “Do you think he knew he was going to die?”
The man didn’t reply. I glance to where he was beside me, but he’s gone.
“Sir?” I turn my head, trying to find him. But he’s disappeared.
Author's note: can anyone figure out who the stranger was?? :D
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