This is a story I churned out in about an hour and a half for my Creative Writing class. It's probably terrible, and full of errors, but it was requested that I put it here, so here it is.
Paradise?
The only waves on the glassy ocean were from the wake of the ship as it cut through the water. The sun was bright and warm, the tropical air moist and salty. Judging by the weather, I would have never guessed it was November. I was used to felling trees in Nunavut, near Hudson Bay in Canada. This was a far cry from frozen tundra underfoot, freezing wind biting at your lungs and your face, driving snow, and the ever present danger of being crushed by a two hundred foot fir. Not too long ago, my grandson approached me; he believed my health was beginning to fail, and that I should retire. He had just completed his Master’s Degree in business, and offered to take over my little logging company, even going so far as to legitimately buy it from me. How could I refuse? So, here I am, celebrating my seventy-sixth birthday aboard the SS Ajax the Greater, headed on a tour of the Caribbean.
Now, I wasn’t too fond of spending five weeks cooped up with two types of people; the people who treated me like an antiquity or an oddity. The wait staff often treated the passengers as something that could be broken by a stiff breeze. Even worse were looks that I got from the patrons of this marvelous floating hotel. The looks I got from stuffy, underworked, overweight tourists, in their garish floral shirts and open toed sandals with knee high socks. Every time I saw one of those yokels look at me, I just shook my head. Some people just had no sense. I kept myself in relatively good shape by working hard, and there were a few widowers who had apparently had enough of looking at the desk-jockeys and their pasty white, balding heads. I was bound and determined to get my bones warm for once in my life, and if those ladies didn’t mind seeing the little circular dragon that I got with the Third Division in Korea, then the paper pushers would just have to deal with it.
Now, I have to admit that it was a lot of fun chasing the out of shape, 40-something yuppies up the rock climbing walls; and I always have a good time golfing, even in simulators. However, the best part of every day was when the old people would gather on deck, and they’d motion to me to come and play. Apparently, they thought I was one of them. Can you imagine? Of course, being the gentleman that I am, I always accepted their invitation. Mind you, I’m not genteel enough to let them win, but it was amusing to let them try. Every day, the same ladies, and the husband of one by extension, would call me over, and we’d spend a good hour puttering about the deck. I’d always have a nice, stiff, dark rum “on the rocks”, and buy the solitary lady of the group a margarita. This, of course, forced the other poor fellow, Gary, to shell out for drinks for his wife, Michelle, and himself. After a few, he stopped minding; however he did mind that he and his wife never won a game.
So, one evening, I met Harriet and her friends at the buffet one evening. They, for some reason, decided to don formal attire. I couldn’t fathom ever wanting to dress like that. Who can eat wearing a tie? Harriet motioned me over, and I, polite as always, accepted her invitation. I bought the table drinks even though Gary was visibly sloshed. Conversation was light, until Harriet got suddenly bashful and chewed her bottom lip. I’d seen this before, and prepared to make a hasty exit, just like I had every other time I saw that. Mind you, just because I knew this was coming didn’t make it any less awkward. You see, the only meaningful relationship I’d ever had was with the tundra, and I meant to keep it that way. She, of course, was going to ask all sorts of questions I didn’t want to answer, like where I lived, and what I used to do for a living.
Now, I did my best to politely decline any invitation into a relationship but keep my options open for a short term tryst. Gary, apparently feeling suicidally overconfident, demanded satisfaction then and there. I was happy to oblige, even though he could barely keep his feet. The first thing he did was forget Murphy’s First Rule of Combat: If the enemy is in range, so are you. The second thing he did was sit back in his chair with my hand on his shoulder. Even though it had been some fifty years, my hand to hand training was still as effective as ever. You couldn’t so much call what I did to this fellow even a shove, more of a redirection back into his chair. The excitement seemed to have gotten to him as he immediately clutched his chest as soon as my palm left his chest. Mary hustled away toward a man in a suit while Harriet screeched something about us both being idiots and barbarians.
After I started first aid procedures on the poor fellow, I was dismissed by the crew’s doctor and escorted back to my cabin by a crewmate. After repeated assurances that there was not, in fact, a brig on this ship and that I wasn’t going to be confined to it; and that minor scuffles happen about once per cruise due to the confines, I did my best to settle down for the night. During the hours that I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, visions of mortality took their toll upon my mind. I wasn’t a twenty year old soldier anymore, nor was I a thirty year old logger. I was a seventy six year old man, now resigned to his fate. Perhaps I should travel back to the frozen wastes, away from all these people. After all, what good is paradise if it can all be taken away in an instant, even by accident? Perhaps the wait staff was right to treat us all like porcelain dolls, to speak to us as if our minds were leaving us. I was startled by a knock on the door. I looked through my peephole to see Harriet sipping a drink, and holding one for me. Hopefully, she’d come to tell me that Gary would be okay. Perhaps she’d come to take up my offer…
Edit: Took my name out, not that I'd mind you all stalking me.
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Topic: Paradise? (Old folks on a boat.) (Read 1155 times)