Short Story No.26: Wayne

It’s what Wayne stood to gain that roused him from his leisurely life, too long had he lived in the glories of his past. He complacently was implacable and his aloofness, ignoble. From there he admired, passive in his attitude, gratitude could not take the place of his resentment, he needed to be stirred by the fire, to move forward in life, to seize the days. He talked to his old neighbour who lived in a semi-detached terrace house, with a lovely patio, and a dog kennel. He was friends with old people in the place of his own self-assertion, expecting people to pat him on the back or glorious praise from the historians, them. He admired his friend he perceived to be less intelligent than his person. He was amused at his friends progress and condescended to smile, in a moment of forgetfulness. He thought in his heart how his intelligence could not match his, offsetting his friends practical accomplishments through subverting it’s natural emphasis (for him) in this way. His friend once said to him ‘why all the praise?!’ in an unexpected outburst of insolent pride or anger, that was crossing the line.

Was it because Wayne thought so highly of himself, with the praise he would usually lavish upon himself, that he generously could extend it to others in an all-too-shallow act? He thought he could reposition himself as i he sat in the office of his mind. He was looking for work, and in his jealousy, congratulated himself more, taking comfort in doing less, making it regal. The stress of concentration, he was used to that, he languished in his self indulgence, before he made a new attempt. His friend was admired at work, though it was dished out formally as the Employee of The Month award, people were restrained in their overt expressions of emotion, they were professionals.

Wayne wondered, where his time went on idling. He felt he was creative, and wanted to settle for a better job, which took time to reach, but was now within his range of possibility. Not all those who search are lost, or so went the cliche. He saw himself as being of service to his neighbours so he didn’t look for work as much as he would have. They had lived life, and were more than happy to keep him where he was. He became unconsciously responsible for their emotional life in the past, kidding himself, in the place of an active, blazing life he now forged. He turned his face aside slightly in their presence when their two faces were facing toward each other, for a moment as he said hello, his smile was kind.

He was relocating to a district not too far from where they were, he knew he had to escape the smug complacency that he and his neighbours knew. He had to face the front, see to his left and right, see what was behind and ahead again, he wasn’t taking sides backing others, he wasted to have his own wherewithal to be the centre of his own world, not off in a corner, in someone’s corner.

To be a true, free spirit and move to a neighbourhood that aligned with his thoughts and wishes, and the person that he was. Gatherings had to be tempered with adventures of self, initiative and forthright expressions.

His neighbour smiled to be talked with, and he approached first with friendly overtures. Replying with short, proud and happy responses. He always took the initiative, and now he was more directed in what he was doing.

Wayne thought to himself about the scenes and Judy. It was the world they had between them, the world they had in front of them that dawned on them and shone. Didn’t they have the full right to make their glories as did any other generation before, as convenient as it all was for them? Laptops, i-pods, and mobiles. In the celebration of style and writing and culture, of friendship and the reflection in the company of the tribe following much merriment, he had known in these days.

How many books did they read, how much fiction, how much fact, before life dawned and new beginnings were begun. How much yearning, before life’s stirrings. Sometimes they sang along with the song they knew, sometimes they sang the song they dreamed that reminded them of all that life could bring them.

The true pictures of themselves, words and images of life. So many words that are thought and thought, brought them to what they now saw.


Author: The Eaghams

Singer Songwriter. Poet. Writer.

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