Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Entry #38

This Lonely Hour
by Seamus Kearney


I suddenly notice how tightly my hands grip the wheel, and how my foot feels as if it might actually push through and touch the road. My body and mind are saying, ‘How could you be so dumb again?’

The word then changes to numb. That’s what I feel as the wind comes in through the windows and tries to cleanse me on my long journey home.

My body and mind don’t understand the hope I refuse to let go of, that some day I might not have to drive home through the pain of these red early mornings, the remains of nights cut open and left to bleed.

It’s often my own fault. Hell, the one last night even told me before we left the bar that I shouldn’t expect breakfast. I asked if I had to go before his kids got up. Before his wife returned. He stopped laughing.

I did end up slipping out before he stirred, to avoid any painful silences.

So, exactly how many times have I driven home at this lonely hour, having failed to actually pass over into someone else’s daytime? As always, I tell myself it’s over. Never again. No matter how charming. No matter how much I see in the eyes.

But later, after sleep has repaired me, I know there will no doubt be more red dawns. After all, it’s the heart that’s carrying all this hope, that’s leading me in all of this.

12 comments:

Bernita said...

" the remains of nights cut open and left to bleed" - fabulous line.

Abhinav said...

The remains of nights cut open and left to bleed - my fav too; I was just gonna say that!!!
Your story is so rich in its tragedy!!!
Another fav:- My body and mind don’t understand the hope I refuse to let go of. Nice dualism this line conjures :-)

Beth said...

You've seemed to perfectly captured the type of woman I want to slap and have no pity for at all. Also liked the above line the other two noted.

Church Lady said...

I'm late to the party, but that was one fantastic line.

I feel sorry for her.

This pulled me in. Nicely written.

Sarah Hina said...

Her shame is palpable. Many memorable lines, but my favorites were the ones about "failing to pass over into someone else's daytime" and "sleep repairs me."

Hope is intoxicating, but dangerous, too. Very well done.

SzélsőFa said...

I like how this short piece make me peep into a world that is unknown for me and I despise, too.
Overall, a very interesting take on the photo and a great display of emotions.

Shameless said...

Hello everyone, thanks for the feedback here. :-) I did really like getting inside the head of someone in this situation. I like visiting foreign places in my writing!

It's funny because someone just sent me a mail asking if Seamus can also be used as a woman's name ... ie, am I a woman? ... and whether I want to be pointed in the right direction of a good book about treating addictions! Great. That means I got through!

Suffice to say that I'm a man - LOL - and I don't think I need that book. I've enjoyed reading all the rest of the entries here too. Good luck everyone. :-)

Jaye Wells said...

Great job. It says a lot when a first person story has people believing the story is from the author's actual experience.

"So, exactly how many times have I driven home at this lonely hour, having failed to actually pass over into someone else’s daytime?"

Excellent.

Dottie said...

When I read this I thought the narrator was a man. I think it's a great piece either way, but it is stronger and more poignant if the narrator is male. Just one reader's opinion. One of my favorites.

Shameless said...

Excellent Dottie!
Is it a man or a woman? I did secretly wonder if anyone would see the narrator as a man. I didn't necessarily say it was a woman! :-)

raine said...

Is it a man or a woman?

Swear, I was thinking the same thing, lol. The prose actually seemed masculine in some ways, but the sentiment was quite feminine (if that makes sense).

Doesn't matter-- "the pain of these red early mornings, the remains of nights cut open and left to bleed..."

Just blew me away. I'll remember it, I'm sure, at the sight of such dawns in the future.

jason evans said...

Great concept. A powerful emotion portrayed with great narrative choices.