F34R
12-19-2012, 04:08 PM
A short story i wrote for a class of mine, hope you guys enjoy it and don;t be afraid to comment.
Mr. Jay Gatsby stepped off the train into the chilly French winter. His yellow trench coat juxtapose to the black night. It was 1:30 in the A.M. He had been to this part of Paris before; he walked some ways down the road, under the arc de triumph, and past the glowing trees. He stopped at a small café at the end of the long block. He stepped from the blue hue of the night into the glowing, orange room. It was warm, but comfortable. He placed his coat on a rack by the door. He already was getting some strange looks; this was usually the response people gave to his outlandish wardrobe. Everyone at least looked once, except for one man. He was alone, sitting in the corner of the room, fairly clear of the electric glow coming from the flaking ceiling. He had a drink in hand, and his eyes were closed. Slumped forward he took a deep breath and resumed his upright position. Gatsby walked closer intrigued by this man’s dejected nature, as he moved in he felt something that could be only identified as comradery, the loneliness this man felt was not strange to Gatsby, he shared in his anguish. The man’s eyes met his and Jay Gatsby said, choosing his words wisely, “Hello- I’m sorry to trouble you but I have the strongest feeling that I’ve met you”. This was a lie, just a means of starting the conversation, Gatsby was afraid this man can see through him, as he feared others for the same reason. The man at the table took a sip of his drink, thought, then said, “I’m not sure” then quickly “your name?”
“Jay Gatsby”
“Nice to meet you Jay, but I’m not sure we have”.
This man was drunk, very drunk actually, but he held himself incredibly well.
“What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Jake…”
A pause, two men on the street walked by the café window drunkenly singing, both Jake and Gatsby looked, then turned back to each other.
“Jake Barnes”
“Nice to meet you Mr. Barnes”, Gatsby said nervously, “Mind if I sit? Drinks on me”.
Gatsby pulled the chair from the table and sat himself, he pulled himself in, the chair squeaking and cutting along the wood floor, along the carved grooves that were put there by the multitude of people come and gone.
“So what brings you to Paris Jay?”
“Just trying to get away from some problems, clear my mind”
“Where would it be you live?”
“West Egg, back in the states, some ways away from New York”.
“Interesting, very interesting…”
The conversation continued on through the night, Jay told Jake of his time in the war, Jake of his, and a solemn moment crept in when the nature of Jakes problem became known, Gatsby promised never to speak of it. Jake told Gatsby of Brett, and Gatsby told Jake of Daisy. Two loves that neither could have. These two men were quickly becoming friends. Jake offered Gatsby to stay on the couch of his apartment, he was quick to accept.
A week had past, the two men had a great time, finding a healing friendship in each other. When Jake awoke one morning Gatsby was still asleep, he crept outside, and down to the café for coffee, Gatsby joined him sometime later.
“I will be leaving today,” Gatsby said calmly, “please do come to one of my parties when you return from France”.
“I’ll be sure to”
They sat till about 1 then met with Brett, and a friend of Gatsby’s from the states who had just arrived. They drank, and danced, and ate, and drank some more. It was more than Gatsby could ever get out of his parties, talking and lying to all of those people. This past week he hasn’t had to pretend, he was free, he wished he could stay. When the evening was coming to a close Gatsby’s bags were brought from the room and driven to the train station. Jake met Gatsby outside the buildings doors to say goodbye.
“It’s been fun Gatsby”.
“One of the best times of my life”
“Remember when we first spoke,” he stopped, “the two men that came singing down the street?”
“I think I know where this is going,” Jake said with a smile,”after all you only live once”.
Both Jake Barnes and Jay Gatsby through their sense into the gutter and drunkenly sang down the street, leaning on each other’s shoulders they let go of their fears, uncertainties, and many times crippling fear of what people think. There songs reached the night sky, and painted a picture of the friendship. The lights were never brighter; they were lighter than air, if only they could be like this forever. If only we could all be like that forever.
Mr. Jay Gatsby stepped off the train into the chilly French winter. His yellow trench coat juxtapose to the black night. It was 1:30 in the A.M. He had been to this part of Paris before; he walked some ways down the road, under the arc de triumph, and past the glowing trees. He stopped at a small café at the end of the long block. He stepped from the blue hue of the night into the glowing, orange room. It was warm, but comfortable. He placed his coat on a rack by the door. He already was getting some strange looks; this was usually the response people gave to his outlandish wardrobe. Everyone at least looked once, except for one man. He was alone, sitting in the corner of the room, fairly clear of the electric glow coming from the flaking ceiling. He had a drink in hand, and his eyes were closed. Slumped forward he took a deep breath and resumed his upright position. Gatsby walked closer intrigued by this man’s dejected nature, as he moved in he felt something that could be only identified as comradery, the loneliness this man felt was not strange to Gatsby, he shared in his anguish. The man’s eyes met his and Jay Gatsby said, choosing his words wisely, “Hello- I’m sorry to trouble you but I have the strongest feeling that I’ve met you”. This was a lie, just a means of starting the conversation, Gatsby was afraid this man can see through him, as he feared others for the same reason. The man at the table took a sip of his drink, thought, then said, “I’m not sure” then quickly “your name?”
“Jay Gatsby”
“Nice to meet you Jay, but I’m not sure we have”.
This man was drunk, very drunk actually, but he held himself incredibly well.
“What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Jake…”
A pause, two men on the street walked by the café window drunkenly singing, both Jake and Gatsby looked, then turned back to each other.
“Jake Barnes”
“Nice to meet you Mr. Barnes”, Gatsby said nervously, “Mind if I sit? Drinks on me”.
Gatsby pulled the chair from the table and sat himself, he pulled himself in, the chair squeaking and cutting along the wood floor, along the carved grooves that were put there by the multitude of people come and gone.
“So what brings you to Paris Jay?”
“Just trying to get away from some problems, clear my mind”
“Where would it be you live?”
“West Egg, back in the states, some ways away from New York”.
“Interesting, very interesting…”
The conversation continued on through the night, Jay told Jake of his time in the war, Jake of his, and a solemn moment crept in when the nature of Jakes problem became known, Gatsby promised never to speak of it. Jake told Gatsby of Brett, and Gatsby told Jake of Daisy. Two loves that neither could have. These two men were quickly becoming friends. Jake offered Gatsby to stay on the couch of his apartment, he was quick to accept.
A week had past, the two men had a great time, finding a healing friendship in each other. When Jake awoke one morning Gatsby was still asleep, he crept outside, and down to the café for coffee, Gatsby joined him sometime later.
“I will be leaving today,” Gatsby said calmly, “please do come to one of my parties when you return from France”.
“I’ll be sure to”
They sat till about 1 then met with Brett, and a friend of Gatsby’s from the states who had just arrived. They drank, and danced, and ate, and drank some more. It was more than Gatsby could ever get out of his parties, talking and lying to all of those people. This past week he hasn’t had to pretend, he was free, he wished he could stay. When the evening was coming to a close Gatsby’s bags were brought from the room and driven to the train station. Jake met Gatsby outside the buildings doors to say goodbye.
“It’s been fun Gatsby”.
“One of the best times of my life”
“Remember when we first spoke,” he stopped, “the two men that came singing down the street?”
“I think I know where this is going,” Jake said with a smile,”after all you only live once”.
Both Jake Barnes and Jay Gatsby through their sense into the gutter and drunkenly sang down the street, leaning on each other’s shoulders they let go of their fears, uncertainties, and many times crippling fear of what people think. There songs reached the night sky, and painted a picture of the friendship. The lights were never brighter; they were lighter than air, if only they could be like this forever. If only we could all be like that forever.