What a Wonderful World

A work I'd written as an example, it is a story that COULD take off and yet has not. This is by design; I leave this as a piece that COULD tell a story to give an example, of sorts, to other authors.

"What a Wonderful World"

'My mother once told me, back when I was a young boy, that "The Cosmic Eye blinked, and the world shattered." Now I really didn't think too much of it, Son, at the time. I didn't really think it meant nothing. She said that right up until the day she died, and on her death-bed, she added something. She told me, that day, that "God was done wit' us all." She told me, with her last breath, the same damn thing she'd always said, but it was different. "God was done wit' us all," and "The Cosmic Eye done blinked."

The very next day, Sonny, her world ended, and our world ended with her.

The note said nothing else, nothing further. I stood, boring into those words as if trying to discover some hidden truth to his sentiments, but this was all he'd written. Just, " . . . And our world ended with her." In his own sort of way, Gra-pa was confessing a secret he'd kept inside of himself for all these years. He was confessing, and for the life of me I didn't even understand what my grandfather was telling me. Forever I'd known the man, and here I stood, realizing the worlds of distance between us. A tear fell down my face, but it was hollow, dead. I was only sad in body, but my heart was iced and numb from the frigidness of this new world.

Hearing a stepping, very lightly announcing itself in the hallway, I was instantly alert. A .38 special revolver, once laying beside the envelope on the oaken table before me, now rested with its back to my palm, and bared its muzzle at the intruder.

"Glad to see you -- Daryl, you're crying." Devon walked forward a few steps, and I gently folded the note up and stuck it back into its paper-thin home.

"Just. . . ." I tried, but the next words caught in my throat. I dismissed them as a cough, and held up a hand to halt her advance. "Did you find out anything? Do we have visitors?"

"No, I. . . ." She was upset now. God-damn it, she was always upset about something. "Daryl, I swear I didn't mean to let them."

"I don't have time for this!" I screamed at her, silencing her. She looked afraid of me, and I knew why. A man of six-foot-five, six-six, weighing just under two-fifty with a loaded gun and the face of a maniac ready to finally burst at the seams, was really not something most people were overly-comfortable around. I knew she was afraid of me, and hell, if I'd seen someone who looked half the psychopath I remember seeing in Gra-pa's mirror I'd be, too.

So, for her courtesy, I lowered the gun. "I don't want to hear it," I spoke more calmly, though my blood boiled nonetheless. "Just go do something." I turned away, firearm slack in my left hand, and heard her leave without another word. I felt unusual peace just then, standing and staring out of Gra-pa's dining room window, letting my imagination run wild. I knew it was almost time, and I'd snapped at her, and I'd gotten frustrated with her. She was terrified, and she needed me now.

"Devon? Sweetheart, can you please come here?" I turned from the window, swallowing my guilt and holstering the .38. I grabbed up my grandfather's note, for whatever that was worth, folded and pocketed it too. I heard a coughing in the other room, Gra-pa's bedroom where she'd be staying the night. She'd gone off to sleep already, and probably figured I'd yell at her some more.

"Devon? It's alright, I'm not mad. Just, I'm scared too. Scared and frustrated that I can't do anything to help you." I finished, rubbing back my greasy black hair and letting myself be wholly-consumed in guilt. I stepped into the hallway, turned right. The walls were lined with old photos, some of me and some of Gra-pa and others of people I didn't know immortalized in black-and-white and faded brown. Every single person had a smile on their face, and upon seeing them a small one crept up on me as well.

I turned left, following the short hall to Gra-pa's room, whereupon I heard the noise. It was her song. Louis Armstrong singing "What a Wonderful World," in his scratchy, warbling voice brought me to cry, silently. There was nothing else I could do, but I let it all out. Nobody would see me, and nobody would hear me.

And, yet, the door opened that moment, on a full-grown man crying his eyes out. "Daryl, come on," she insisted, holding out a hand. This was the woman I'd fallen for, the woman I loved with all my heart. This was the woman, offering me something. "One last dance, before the end?"

"I'd be honored, my Dove," I told her, in the same way I'd said all those years ago when we'd wed. It was the corniest thing, then, to say that just after the pastor's 'Kiss the Bride' sentiment, but I'd not felt shy then and I didn't feel shy now.

I took her hand, brought her forehead close to my chest, and in that small hallway we slow-danced. We danced without energy, but with passion.

("And I think to myself, ah, What a Wonderful World!")

We danced for an entire minute, an eternity with my beloved. She coughed then, went slack in my arms, but her feet, her legs, still moved with mine, and I cried. Tears ran down my face, droplets tapping her auburn curls and flowing down her own cheeks. Or, were those her tears?

It didn't matter. We danced for that eternity.

Then, she growled. It was subtle, quiet, and I tried to ignore it. She made the noise again, a little more insistent, and struggled against me a bit. "No, you don't," I cried quietly.

"Hurrrrrr. . . ." she went on, her fingers digging into my chest, and instantly I shoved her back into Gra-pa's room. Her eyes blazed redness, as she came at me again.

("Yes, I think to myself, What a Wonderful-")

(BANG!)

("World.")

The gun fell from my hand, hit the bare hardwood floor but made not a sound. I fell to my knees, but made not a sound. She breathed her last breath in this world, but made not a sound.

The first sound was made, subtle. It was the clicking of the .38 as I pulled back the trigger. I didn't even notice it was in my hands, before the time was right. I didn't notice it was over, before it was over. "I love you, my Dove," I whispered to the room, and closed my eyes for the Close.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading!

Reviews

[MyRathDothEnd]

I loved the ending!
Loved the personal details "not felt shy then and I didnt feel shy now"
It wasn't the most captivating from the very beginning sentence though, maybe a stronger hook?
I really enjoyed this in general

[usman]

yes indeed...what a wonderful world.. but i read it like 3 times for me to get more of the story...anyway good work sir

[S. D. Forogar]

I thank you for your review. It is true, though, that I'd never intended to do anything more with this story at the time of its inception. This was merely a draft example I'd created for a writer, who'd no desire to use the concept. Afterward, I just found that it might make an interesting example to others who might like to see how to implement emotion into even a shorter story.

[Nikki]

I was sitting on the edge of my couch clutching my laptop wondering where you were taking me. The flow was smooth and the emotion was tangible. Intriguing.

[S. D. Forogar]

Thank you very much for your review.

[Nikki]

You're ever so welcome. :)