Writing Ghosts of the Past

[Mitch]

[size=1] I took what you said to some heart, Charles.[/size]

[center]"Ghosts of the Past"[/center]
He walks onto the school playground. Daniel Samms is in his mid-thirties, a worn, inundated figure. When you look in his eyes, you see a man who has lost his dreams. Those eyes are black, as if underneath them hides something.

Dan wears a gray jacket as he walks. It blows slightly in the autumn air. All about the sky is grim and overcast and solemn. The sun's face isn't seen at all, only the clouds which seem to be ready to storm.

Slowly, as he approaches a swing set, he peers up to the sky. Then he sits down on one of the swings, the swing's faded blue cover now barely seen. The chain-ropes holding the swing creak under the pressure of Daniel Samms' weight. It feels like it's going to break and Dan's going to fall right off as he sits. It sounds like it too. But he stays on.

Leaves blow past him as the wind picks up. There's one colored like rust, one colored yellow, one a faded orange. There's more too, but Dan only sees those three as they scuttle off, just blurs. Dan thinks autumn is beautiful. He's always liked it more than any month of the year. He always feels happy in a sad kind of way when it's Autumn. When it's mild, and there's a certain smell in the air. That smell of the dying leaves falling, then blowing in the wind.

Dan also likes the rustle sound leaves make. On his swing that sound is what he hears. It gives him the feeling that someone's watching him, maybe. Or maybe there's something crawling on the ground. It even reminds him in a vague way of ghosts. He wonders if it's ghosts that make the leaves blow, if they're the wind.

He puts the thought out of his head-it's a silly thought-a silly thought who someone like him shouldn't be thinking. Running his hands through his black hair, feeling its smoothness, he places both hands on the chain-ropes of the swing, feeling the cold metal. He scoots himself up on the swing as much as he can. The swing gives another creak. Again Dan thinks it's going to break. He considers getting off but wants see how long it can hold him. So he stays.

Rocking back and forth the swing creaks loudly, bends and gives what resistance it can. Dan takes it slow. He doesn't want to break it. Looking in front of him, swinging slowly, his thoughts begin to wander. They turn to what they can-to his memories.

He remembers this playground like anyone would remember theirs. He had gone to school here, had recess out on the playground. Dan was stupid back then, he was ignorant. Back then he was a very small kid, was often teased for being so tiny. He also didn't learn too well. Dan had constantly gotten in trouble and didn't take well to what he was being taught. While all the other kids were learning at the same equal pace, Dan was always behind, impeded. He had been diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder-ADHD. He even took pills for it.

But that's not what Dan remembers the most. His parents had always told him that the pill was just an excuse. As well as his ADHD. Dan, his parents thought, had all the potential of any other kid in his class. There was just a need to focus, pay attention. Not be so obstinate. But things like that take time.

School for Dan back then wasn't about learning. It was about finding his friends, and that's what he always remembers the most. He particularily remembers he was obsessed with one kid. The kid's name had been Landers Tom. Kids at school just called him LT for short. LT was a chubby, snobby spoiled kid. He had lived quite close to Dan-just a few blocks away. When Dan met him, he had just moved in recently. Tom started hanging out with him once they got to know each other.

At first Dan and LT would just do things at school since that was where they became first acquainted. From there, Dan quickly became obsessed with him. All he would think about was being like LT. Every night Dan would sit in his room on his bed, his hands cupped in prayer. "Dear God," he'd say, "please bless my Momma and my Daddy and my Grandpa and Grandma and my dogs Itsy and Spud. And bless all the people that are sickened and don't have a home."

Then he'd stop for a second, glaring around his dark room, looking especially close at his door. No one would ever be there and so he'd continue on. This time he'd shut his eyes tight, thinking deeply. He would feel out what he was saying. "Dear God," he'd begin again. "Please make me just like LT. I want to be fat like him, I want to have good parents like his. Please I pray that I become fat like LT, and I get a computer like him and that he likes me." Maybe Dan would add more, maybe less. But he always ended his prayers with that prayer-he thought that's what prayers were for. It was what he Daddy and Mommy had told him. They'd said that praying was "asking for something to happen, something good." And little Dan thought being like LT was even more than good. It was something that needed to be done.

Soon Dan wasn't just hanging out with LT at school. He began hanging out at his house as much as he could. He'd call LT each and every day. "LT, can you play?" Dan would always ask. "I'd really like to come over." The calls became so frequent that LT couldn't stand it much longer. But still Dan came over on almost a daily basis.

Dan loved LT's parents. LT's dad, Whit, was a grizzly man in his late sixties. Whit had balding hair, a white beard and lined face. He looked quite as old as he was. Whit had even served in a war using a bazooka, and was now a lawyer. Dan found later he was also a closet alcoholic.

LT's mom was much younger than Whit. Her name was Tamara. She was a woman in her late forties with fading beauty. Dan remembers she smoked and that he'd often smell it all in LT's house. She had long, messy moppy hair, a thin, lined face and crescent lips. To Dan she looked like she had once been beautiful, but it had mostly faded. Dan later found that she too was a closet alcoholic. Dan would have never known that his parents were alcoholics. They were such nice people to him.

When he'd come over Tamara would always make LT and him eat fruit. "Nutrition's the best you can do," she would often say. Dan remembers eating strawberries with powdered sugar all the time. And bananas, and other nutritious foods he would have never touched had it not been for Tamara.

LT had it made. He had three video game systems-a Super Nintendo, a Regular Nintendo, a Sega. He had a computer. He had a dog, a cat, and chinchillas. Chinchillas were these weird creatures. They looked to Dan like squirrels and not much else. Tamara always had them in their outside cage. It didn't make sense to Dan-buying a pet and never bonding with them, or playing with them? He much more preferred dogs, even cats.

LT did have it all-all any child could want. Action figures, toy cars, an electric mini train set, a big screen TV. He had it all. Anything anyone could imagine, Dan knew LT had it.

LT and Whit were even fond of playing board games together. They'd play Monopoly or some other game, and if LT would win his dad would buy him whatever he wanted-maybe a squirt gun, a new game-anything he wanted. Dan could never believe this-he had never heard of his parents doing anything like that for him. Not ever. Dan was so jealous of LT.

Dan remembers LT would make fun of him too. He remembers that he'd often look at LT's face if they were watching a movie, to see his reaction. And when commercials came on, Dan would make up his own rendition of it. It would often contain fart noises, and language that appeared obscene at the time. Words like "poopy" or "damn" or "crap" or any other silly kid phrase. If there was one of them, Dan used it. When Dan would do these things, and look at LT, LT would often say, "Why do you look at me all the time? It's annoying." Or if Dan was making his own rendition of a commercial, LT would say, "Cut it out. It's not funny."

Dan has so many memories with LT. He remembers LT would watch porn on TV, and say he was, "Getting it so up." And if LT had any of his other friends with him-the ones he probably thought were his real friends-they'd all say things together. "Oh look at her, she's so pretty"; "I'm getting really hard"; "Look at my pants, they're getting so big"; "I wish I could have a mom like that." They'd say things like that. Dan didn't have any attraction to women back then. But he'd play along, saying all the things they were saying. But he never meant it.

LT had a love for wrestling. Eventually LT wanted a trampoline, so he and his dad Whit played a game of two-player Risk to see if he could get it. LT won. Dan went with them to get the trampoline. LT chose a big one that was black all over and bright blue around the edges. Dan and LT would go on top of LT's roof and jump down onto the trampoline. It was always great fun.

Dan looks back at this and just laughs as he is still slowly swinging, still hearing the creaking of the swing. He was such a silly boy, and it still hasn't left him all the way. Dan later found out that LT's dad died of alcohol poisoning. But by then Dan had moved away to Nebraska.

The clouds above Dan are now heavier and darkening. He looks up at them. Dan still can't believe how stupid he used to be. He used to think LT was everything. He would live and breathe LT. That kid had never really been his friend. LT was just a snobby, prissy spoiled brat now that Dan saw it. His entire family was so fake.

His parents would act like they were fine and nice people, when really they were closet alcoholics. Dan sees just how hypocritical it was that his mom always made them eat good food. She was the one that was killing herself by smoking and drinking. Smoking is such a selfish act.

Dan can feel that it's going to rain. He can't believe how much his thoughts can trail, just like the leaves blowing all over in the Autumn air. To think that he's in his mid-thirties and he's still thinking like this. It makes him wonder. Makes him wonder if people ever grow up. Are they always just kids? Dan would like to think so. Dan would like to think even as adults we're afraid of everything we see. That we fear all that we do.

Dan doesn't know anymore-he's just being silly again-of course adults grow up. He stops rocking back and forth on the swing, takes his hands off the chain ropes. It's going to rain. He should get out of there before it gets bad.

Dan is glad he had come to school another time. It had been a long time since he had. Schools always gives him strange thoughts. And there's so many things to think about.

Just as the storm started that Autumn evening, Daniel Samm could be seen walking off. He left the place that had partly made him the way he was. He left for the last time. Rain drops fell down as the last view of him could be seen. The pitter patter of rain made the sound of his old, broken car barely heard. In his wake he left al his thoughts and kept them with him. Soon after the storm got worse and hail could be seen falling. It fell in that school's playground. The playground was now empty. The blue-bottomed swing that Daniel had touched could still be seen swinging slowly and the leaves could still be seen scuttling around. It was just as Dan had said to himself-it was like there were ghosts here. Ghosts of the past.

[Solo Tremaine]

[COLOR=#503F86]I really like this story, Mitch. I can identify with many aspects of the things that Dan did- I think most children probably did something like that. I like stories/thoughts that reflect on changes anyway.

Writing it in the present tense works well- tends to put a more artistic/dramatic style to a piece, and it works nicely with one that's meant to have a depth to it. There's also the "Dan doesn't know- he's just being silly again" - it's odd hearing it from a third-person point of view because it's normally something we only hear coming from ourselves, so I guess that makes the character easier to identify with.

Like I said, there was a minor technical thing I noticed- autumn isn't a month. It's a season, heh. But that's only a grammar thing really.

Nicely done.[/COLOR]

[Arcadia]

[size=1]I likes it. Especially since it kind of begins and ends with autumn and the rustling leaves and all that. It sets a very appropriate mood for a trip down memory lane.

Anyhow, these particular paragraphs caught my attention.

[QUOTE]Dan also likes the rustle sound leaves make. On his swing that sound is what he hears. It gives him the feeling that someone's watching him, maybe. Or maybe there's something crawling on the ground. It even reminds him in a vague way of ghosts. He wonders if it's ghosts that make the leaves blow, if they're the wind. [/quote]

This one, because I love the idea presented, especially the notion that the sound of the leaves makes you feel as though you're being watched. Perhaps it's just that time of the year that does it - halloween, and all that - and people just start to associate the two together. Either way, it's so true.

[quote]Every night Dan would sit in his room on his bed, his hands cupped in prayer. "Dear God," he'd say, "please bless my Momma and my Daddy and my Grandpa and Grandma and my dogs Itsy and Spud. And bless all the people that are sickened and don't have a home."

Then he'd stop for a second, glaring around his dark room, looking especially close at his door. No one would ever be there and so he'd continue on. This time he'd shut his eyes tight, thinking deeply. He would feel out what he was saying. "Dear God," he'd begin again. "Please make me just like LT. I want to be fat like him, I want to have good parents like his. Please I pray that I become fat like LT, and I get a computer like him and that he likes me." Maybe Dan would add more, maybe less. But he always ended his prayers with that prayer-he thought that's what prayers were for. It was what he Daddy and Mommy had told him. They'd said that praying was "asking for something to happen, something good." And little Dan thought being like LT was even more than good. It was something that needed to be done.[/quote]

This part was just funny. The child-like mentality is done really, really well. Particularly, the first few lines of the second paragraph where Mr. Dan is a tad paranoid that somebody might hear his prayer. Very well described and easy to imagine.

Good story, Mitch. It was personal, yet fun, and very thoughtful. Kudos.[/size]