Wednesday, August 22, 2012

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The road of the past was hard and smooth for the old man, a little dusty too, and early in the morning the old man sat in his easy chair trying to figure out a new short story to write, anyone, on anything would do from the far past-he had been dry for an idea on what to write. Perhaps a story, he said one before he was a soldier, and had traveled far away across the seas, something that provoked his Irish wits. When he was young, before he started all his traveling and something he'd imagine he'd never do again; He looked outside his window; there was the snow caped mountain, "White Mountain," and those snowy mountains alongside White Mountain. Then Sid came to mind, a friend whom he had doubled with when he dated back in his teens. A good old pal, he had died at the early age of nineteen-years old, a car accident, but up to that time, they had a lot of fun together. "Oh, yes" he said aloud, remembering now what lead up to the circumstances at the White Castle Hamburger café... "Quite so," he murmured to himself, picking up his pen, as to start his first sentence... "That's it...!" he concluded, he had it now-the picture of the events, the plot, the theme, the conclusion, although there was no insight to be given out on this so called... narration, more of an account than a unfolding of events, but a risky one, it wouldn't leave him in a light should someone figure out it was more fact than fiction...he remembered:

He rode through the city with his friend Sid in his 1955-dodge his parents had bought for him, through the crowed city he drove, to meet a blind date. It was Friday night. And the moon appeared to him to be rising and falling, he had a few drinks, he was seventeen-years old, they both, Lee and Sid were seventeen-years old. Sid drove outside of the city where there were open fields and hidden roads, Sid with his part time girlfriend Eva, and Lee, with his blind date, Barbara, with her bronze Italian skin, and dark thick hair, they sat still in the backseat.
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