Dear friend, before you read this work of mine, there's something I'd like you to know. The publication "word whisper" no longer exists. It's gone - like the wind. And before you read this work of mine, I'd like you to know that it was previously published in the soaring twenties - for some reason, I never published it here or anywhere else.
There's so much to talk about but I'll leave that to a Saturday rambling in the near future. Enjoy "Remember"
‘“He held the gun to his head -
Breathed in - and out
In - and out
And seconds later, his weeping began.
He said “Remember me. Someone please Remember me.”
And the gun clicked.
He gasped. Looked at the gun and began to laugh.
He walked towards the desk and opened up a drawer. Grabbed ammo while repeating the words “Remember Me.”
Before he closed the drawer, he noticed a letter he had written a while ago - grabbed it and began to read it.
“I remember you John and I want you to remember that this idea of killing yourself started a long time ago so don't try to. Just keep going forward.
Remember John, why you went after tour dreams and why you thought death might be near if you failed.
Remember John, that you're alive right now which means yoy didn't fail. Not Yet. Not while you're alive.
Remember John, that we wrote this to take the idea out of your mind.”
John paused. Looked at you and continued to read.
“John, your past is reminding you today, June 14, 2007 that you must not give up on life. EVER. If you do, you don't give us any hope of experiencing life fully. I write this, you wrote this, we wrote this because you know someday, you might try to end it all.
This is to remind you not to do so. A call gives you strength. To remind you that whatever you're going through will not last forever….”
John laid the paper on his desk. Looked at you once again dear reader and sniffled.
“This is my end John,” he uttered, reloaded the gun and aimed it at his temple.
“Remember me!” he shot himself and died.
The end'”
________
The room was filled with claps as I uttered the last words.
“Thank you,” I closed up the novel and placed it on the table in front of me.
“Any questions for Mr.Schultz?” My agent asked.
Hands raised throughout the room, “you there?” I heard and all hands were lowered but one.
The young boy stood up, about the age of 12 - he was handed the mic and so he spoke.
“Thank you Mr.Schultz. my question is, why do the main characters die in your books?”
I smiled as I noticed all eyes on me.
“Whats your name?” I asked.
“My name is Gaius,” he replied.
“Thank you for such a glorious question Gaius,” I stood up and began to pace to calm my mind. After a few seconds, I stood and looked at him.
“In this story, John started his journey looking for hope and it ended with death. I wanted him to find hope but it because a naturalist book. I find it quite morbid - if that's the right word, but I learned a lot of lessons from him. So my answer to that question is that sometimes or maybe all the time, death is the only way to end the story. Happens all over the world.”
“But isn't that lazy writing? And also isn't that a bad message to spread to young teens that read your book?” A lady stood and asked.
I stared at her - how dare she call me lazy. I began to pace again and an idea popped into my head.
“You're pretty. And I'd love to take you out to dinner tonight. What do you say?”
I awaited her response. And soon after she said “NO.”
“Really? Isn't that showing the children that every boy here is doomed to get regretted by the pretty girl sometime in life?”
“It's not like that Mr.Schultz.”
“Haha,” I laughed, “I'm joking anyways. I just wanted you to understand that I don't mean for my characters to die. They just die. There are few that don't die but will die sometimes. I don't know when but they will. Do you get what I'm saying?”
“Yes I guess,” she sat down.
I stared at her - she is quite pretty really so I smiled.
“As for my lazy writing - I can't believe that but I promise to work on not ending my novels with death.”
A hand raised and another question was asked.
“What happens to his family?”
“I don't know, they probably die too.”
The room was filled with laughs and I smiled.
“Look guys, sometimes they die and sometimes they don't. I don't choose to make them die, I promise. his family probably just mourned and did normal things. Thank you all, that'll be the end of my questions till after the break.”
I walked out of the room and went right to my cat, opened the door, and sat - “do you remember why you write and why do they all end in death?” I pondered…
Thank you for reading these words of mine.
Till Next Time,
gk gaius
Deo Volente
P.S: If you'd like to get your hand on a physical work of mine, click the link to buy my 2nd novella "The Oyolys"
