This is just a new story idea I had randomly. Give it a read and let me know any thoughts and feelings on it.
The leaves changing in the cool autumn air relish the feeling of hatred within my broken soul. The trees change so quickly, and in all their awe and sheer beauty, I know that winter is immanent. From budding flowers, to a green array of summer glory, these leaves then go the distance to showcase nature’s fireworks. Yellow, red, purple and some green. Then as quickly as they change, they die. They fall from the outstretched boughs and freefall to the ground. Leaves take their time to land, they dance with the breeze and they float slowly down until they rest on the earth. They turn ugly brown on the ground. They go crispy and dirty. So we try to get rid of them on our lawns. Rake them, pile them, and then bag them up so nobody would even know they existed.
My awkward stare makes my wife feel uncomfortable. I’m not staring at her face; I’m not even looking at her direction. I can’t look away from the view, can’t look away from the trees. My house resides in a small valley. I have twenty-three acres of land that I do nothing with. My house is old, but trusting. We do not have neighbours because our house is secluded from society. My aged truck takes thirty minutes to get to the nearest gas station. My wife, Helen hates being so far away. She left everything for me. She has no friends, her family doesn’t write. I’m everything she has.
My wife turned forty-nine two months ago. She is bitter about living here, she is bitter with me. Her eyes have begun to sink, and grey hairs litter her head. Helen’s breasts sag and she gains weight each month. She gave up on make-up years ago because she doesn’t have anyone to impress, especially not me. She talks to the dog, Russel. I haven’t heard good morning in years. She cooks me dinners but they taste empty. We sleep in separate rooms and we rarely smile. We’ve acted this way for so long that now it just feels natural. The awkwardness faded long ago and now any happiness feels weird.
Its early morning and I haven’t showered or shaved nor do I plan to. We’re on the back porch and I have a steaming cup of coffee in my hands that my wife made. Helen is sitting on the porch swing, still looking at me with suspicion. The morning rays are golden and there’s a bed of fog lying among the dewy grass. I can feel the moisture in the air.
My name is Jed. I’m sixty-one and feel like nothing could ever shock me anymore. I’ve seen everything and I’ve heard it all. I’m retired because I couldn’t handle the emptiness of the city. The adrenaline rush eluded me and I could care less about the team work. I used to do it to contribute to society. I used to care for the people who needed me but not anymore. People just annoy me now whether they are healthy or sick. I saved and lost lives as a paramedic. I’ve become so desensitized from blood and guts that I almost miss seeing it. Blood splattered on the pavement let me know I wasn’t living a dream- it brought reality to my life. Especially near the end of my career because my wife and I had stopped loving each other, so my home life felt dull and empty. I lived the nightlife, well worked it mostly. Helen stayed at home and took care of the house. Our marriage never had a chance, not even from the beginning. Helen wanted to have children and I did not. Within the first year of our marriage she convinced me to try for at least one but her heart was broken by our doctor when he told her she was unable to carry a child. That’s when her resentment towards me began. She blamed my negativity on her dilemma. I was glad. As the years passed she became bitter and cold and in return, I resented her for wasting my time. Helen and I moved out here to the country two years ago. We moved to rekindle our marriage, but it only made things worse. Her family still lives in the city. One of her brothers is in a home. I know she would love to visit him but I can’t stand the city anymore, I refuse to take her. I know she would go on her own if she could drive, but she wouldn’t know how to steer out of the garage and there isn’t a chance in hell I will ever teach her. I know that if she left now she would never return.
There’s nothing warm about our house, the family pictures are fake with smiles and the paint is flat. We keep the radio on to break the silence, but the radio isn’t playing now, the beautiful silence is all I hear.
I have salt and pepper hair that I swoop to the side. My bushy side burns are white but I like how they feel so I never shave them off. My face is narrow and chiseled. My eyes are deep set and empty. I haven’t recognized myself in the mirror since God knows when. I wear rugged older clothing most of the time Plaid jackets, red and black like the one I have on now. I like tight fitting jeans and hiking boots for when I walk about my property with Russel. Russel is a German Sheppard and has been a loyal companion for about ten years now. He’s sitting beside me and he’s looking at me oddly, like my wife continues to do. I look down to match his eyes and say nothing. It’s too early to speak, too early to do anything but drink my coffee and gaze out into the distance.
As I look back upon the trees, I hear Helen get up from the porch swing and walk inside. The creaks from the old wooden planks follow her to the door. Russel follows her inside. I smile as I’m finally alone with my thoughts again. My thoughts have kept me company for so long now it’s the only voice I can trust. I hear Helen click the radio on, and the silence is gone. She did it because she knows how much I love silence. A strong radio voice, deep with composure and mixed a sense of sternness and professionalism speaks out.
"Police have been patrolling the city today as they prepare to control gathering crowds outside of city hall. A recent outbreak of an unidentified bacterial strand has infected hundreds of citizens in the area and appears to be spreading quickly. It is reported that doctors are scrambling to test the strand to discover its origin and full impact on-"
The radio voice is cut-off as Helen switches the station to music that feels calming; I can’t stand to listen to the news anymore. I’m surprised she changed the station because I know she knows how much I hate the news. My life is depressing enough as it is. I don’t need to hear about how the government is letting us down and the fluffy stories of hope and encouragement make me cringe. I lean forward against the railing. My coffee is still in my hands and it is losing heat with every passing second. My skinny arms press into the aging wood before me. My left leg crosses behind the right and I stick my neck forward and continue to gaze out. The music continues to pour out of the old radio and my day has officially begun.
Here we go again, I think to myself.
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