It's All in the Title

Well everyone has a story...right? Everyone has an interesting life full of adventure that is fun to read about....correct? Now if you only could read about my consistently uneventful day you would be entertained to new levels....NOT! In fact, most of our storys are the same. We sleep in as late as we can, head to work, look forward to every break (especially lunch) and for the work day to end, fix some supper, and settle down in front of the boob tube.......total exhilaration!! Yes most lives (mine included) are boring. Most of our distractions in life deal with fantasy. We watch TV, read books, play video games, and spend much of our non working time engulfed in a "Grand Illusion" that provides some way to escape from reality for a while and imagine life from a different side of the mirror. Well I decided a while back to join in, though from a little different perspective, to this creation of the so-called "Grand Illusion". So how could I help others escape this earthly state for a little while? I have tried writing a song (Billy Joel I'm not), family and trip movies (watched them all go for a smoke break as soon as I put it on), painting (fences are all I can paint), and designing an empire on "Sim City" that fell quicker than my Facebook stock. So where was I to go..... Well after great pain I came up with a plan. I would write a book!! No not one of those technical / non-fiction works....but something that had interesting characters and non-traditional story lines. So you say "what the heck do you know about writing a fictitious book"....nothing. And what makes you think you even know how to write (from my wife).......I can't. But if there is one strength I have its doing something that I am not good at......where was the badge for that when I was in the Boy Scouts? So here I go. The book is no where near being done but I will share a few pages on this blog from time to time just to hold me to task. There will be re-writes so the final version may be quite different. I figure the title of the book will come to me once it is finished but I have penned the initial title "A Closet in the Heart".  Caution! There may be some colorful language that is unsuitable for children once in a while...leave you inner child home.

And it begins..........

A Closet in the Heart
 A Novel By Urick Gorkowski

We live most of our lives in the white spaces, the time spent between the things that truly matter. Like the blank space between words on a page little is offered and zero is said. Nothing worth remembering ever happens there. Duke often thought he had wasted his time there way too often. No good memories, no bad ones, just "time-a-ticking" with no purpose.

"This traffic is bullshit" he muttered into his travel cup filled with a mixture of coffee, cream, and splenda. He had made this trip daily for years and yet, barely could remember any one of them. His life was as empty as the gas gauge "E". There was nothing left for him to want…..nothing to see…nothing to feel. There was only the dam traffic and the white space. Duke lived most of his life by following a few simple rules: Don’t fuck with anyone and you won’t get fucked with; karma will take care of assholes so screw revenge; and finally no matter how special you may think your suppose to be, you are just another one of the assholes.

"I’m so fucking tired" he sighed. While Duke knew he was just another asshole he had always aspired to being a little more. But age took away the new in his spirit and all that was left is white space. Innocents can never be re-claimed once it is lost. Duke wished he could find it one more time. Just to see the world with wonder like a child was his greatest wish…."just enjoying a butterfly for Christ sake". But this simple wish eluded him…. even in his dreams. He was letting his life fade to black one day at a time and no longer gave a shit about anything. "It’s too late" he muttered to himself…….."Too fucking late".

"I wonder what prick fucked up this day" he snarled. There always was some prick fucking up Duke’s life.

The traffic was at a standstill and so was Duke’s patience. "Dammit" he growled out. Taking a deep breath he noticed that he still had a half of cup of coffee left. One of the few pleasures he had left was a good cup of Joe. He almost preferred it lukewarm so he could just drink as much as he wished without burning his mouth.

As he picked up the cup he noticed that his hands looked old. Not dry and cracked like the hands of someone who performed manual labor their whole life but as someone who had lived too long. Covered with age spots; waxy, pale, and with a slight yellow tint they seemed as if they were no longer real or alive. Wax hand he thought…." fucking wax hands".

"Leben für den Stamm…Sterben für den Stamm". Those words came alive in Duke’s conscious whenever he was stressed. He had heard them first when he was barely six years old. Now, at sixty three, the words were older than Duke’s memory. He had heard his dad say them often. Sometimes around his friends and sometimes to stranger that were visiting their home. Back then he could never figure out why there were so many strangers that visited their home. Suddenly the truck in front of him began speeding up. "I guess the fucking prick is finally out of the way". He was finally on his way again…….Fade to white….
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