Falling
Falling
Falling
Falling
Faster
Faster
Falling Faster
Faster Falling
Splash.
Gatsby watched as water droplets rolled off his hand into the pool. Slowly rolling down his skin and off the precipice at the end of each finger. The way they fell was awfully poetic. Each drop a lonely individual until it fell into the mass of water in the pool where it would be forever forgotten.
To Gatsby, nothing was real anymore. His parties, his friends, not even his being. Everything was floating, non-existent. Aspirations made through deep reflections falling to pieces in but mere seconds.
He felt like a drop of water. Briefly making a splash, forming ripples, and then nothing. No evidence of having been created or seen. His parties were grand, expensive, flashy. Yet, nobody knew him, James Gatz. Even he didn’t know himself anymore. His persona had made him into a person he wasn’t and couldn’t be. All for love and a past which was carved in stone.
James turned around, leaving the pool he had only once used. The pool which he had used only once; alone. Alone; as he had been his whole life. Wanting and craving for others to love him and be loved by him. Alone; without any meaning in his life. So willing to sacrifice for others; but, had nothing to sacrifice. James Gatz, alone.
Bang.
Nothing.
Gatsby looked down. Blood. Welling. Pooling. Falling.
It was over. All over. All for nothing.
He was nothing. He was something. He was a smudge in the universe. He was the universe. He was a drop of water. He was the ocean. He was a leaf. He was a tree. A tree. Standing tall. Standing proud. Standing above all others. He was a tree slowly being hacked down. He was a tree falling. A tree whose parts would be cut and divided up to those who bid the most. In the end, when it came down to it, James had truly become Jay. Wealth and only wealth. Jay was made in wealth and Jay would die in wealth. James’ roots had rotted, leaving only Jay’s roots. Roots tunneling through mounds of gold coins. Roots that find a home in corruption. Roots with no foundation.
He was falling. Falling like a tree. Like a drop of water.
Falling
Falling
Falling
Faster
Faster
Falling Faster
Faster Falling
Splash.
No, you have a great weekend 😤
ReplyDeleteI love the idea of getting Gatsby's perspective of his own death. The way you positioned your words also added to the overall effect of 'falling' and a sense of eeriness that added a lot of depth to your story!
ReplyDeleteThis fan fiction was very emotional and I liked the style
ReplyDeleteI don't know how you thought of having Gatsby describe his own death. I found it really interesting. And I feel like if there was another book, from the perspective of Gatsby, this would be how he would sound too.
ReplyDeleteI think that your use of syntax here is really interesting: it's akin to poetry, how you have the words literally falling and it shows Gatsby's internal turmoil and how rushed his thoughts are. The rushed, hasty tone also comes across through your short, choppy sentences and use of periods. The symbolism of water and the metaphor of comparing life to a tree are also great rhetorical choices. It reminds me of that one philosophical question about a tree falling alone in a forest (does it makes a noise?) It was a fun read!!
ReplyDelete