Scribbles & Bits

So the piece I post today is a story fragment. Could it be the start of a short story or even a novel? It reminds me of the style of Ray Bradbury, for, in my opinion, it engages the reader with the rhythm of its language and startling nature of its plot. Perhaps we can talk its author, Jake, into finishing it!

October 27, 2008



Time; over time we loose, we live, we love. Time is our measure of our daily life up until our unfailing death. One man, John Sedmour, is the father of time.

John had spent the last 82 years watching time and watching the world change and evolve. Not from a television or from a computer screen instead from a naked eye simply sitting at a park bench right in New York City. An old, lifeless and cold bench it was to anyone else in this city. Not to John; John felt comfortable in this bench. It was the perfect place to watch the people of his city. It was a time portal, a pair of binoculars. A mirror reflecting all the change in the world was really the true meaning of the bench. From seven till seven John sat watching and waiting.

Today was not a normal day, but James didn’t realize that until exactly 6: 43 while eating dinner at of course the bench. As he finished eating his New York styled hot dog, John looked up and saw a man. It was the usual man in New York; a suit and a cell phone in his hand talking away ignoring the rest of the world in order to maintain “perfection” in his own life. John happened to catch a glimpse of an1993Camero drive off course blasting into a concession stand nailing the business man who was so wrapped up in his own life he never seen anything coming let along a thundering car blazing down the road. The thud of the man’s heart had stopped. The innocent, normal man died instantaneously. As well as the teenager driving the car who was obviously intoxicated way beyond anyone should be. Time had stopped moving in New York. The population of the ‘big apple’ halted. It just watched. But then, people began to move again, carelessly, walking or driving home to be with their families, eat dinner, or catch the 7:30 Yankees game. The world continued to move, except for two people; John and a middle-aged woman who just became a widow.

After witnessing such an event John knew it was time to leave. He walked home not with a smile on his face like usual, but a stare of shock. John needed his home; it was all he really had left other than the bench. Instead of turning on the television, or reading the paper to check what other sort of terrible incidents happened on this planet he just changed and fell right to sleep. Not even to stop for the picture of his deceased wife. John somehow was able to sleep through all of the never endless police and ambulance sirens taking care of the crash. Lucky for him he could but for Christine Miller- Rachels that would be impossible.

Christine threw opened her car door and rushed the key turning on the ignition. She had a twenty minute drive to get to center New York. She hauled out of her driveway and stepped on the gas, hoping she would get their much, much sooner. She grasped the steering wheel tightly as she thought of what life could possibly be like without a husband. Thoughts of her three children raced through Christine mind. She could even speak the words “My husband is dead.” Tears began to drop and roll onto the leather wheel. Christine prayed over and over hoping for soul mate. She made her final turn only to see the site of flashing lights and flaring sirens. Again, she shoved the car door open. This time Christine sprinted to the nearest ambulance. She caught the site of her husband, Brad, lying lifeless on the cold, hard street. She ran to the body of her husband to lie down beside him hoping he was still alive. Christine hoped her husband was still living life and not watching down. Her voice crawled out of her mouth to say,



“Honey, are you there?”

There wasn’t a reply. Not one body movement. She began to sob harder and harder. Sharon shouted at an emergency doctor. “Is he alive? Please tell me is he alive?” The man didn’t respond and took her husband onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. The Doctor was shutting the door very slowly. He never did respond. Instead they drove off not giving any answer to the woman. All Christine wanted was to think. So she took a seat near the scene on a bench. This bench now meant something to two people in the world.