for Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Melancholy.
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At school he was a loner who shunned the efforts of his peers to befriend him, instead, he crammed his head full with the information meted out by his teachers for his raison d’être was the pursuit of knowledge, leaving no time for the banality of social intercourse or interaction with those whom he thought inferior.
At university, he shunned the seemingly obligatory revelry and carousing which went on outside his gloomy room, instead sitting night after night, pen in hand, scribbling on endless sheets of paper, bathed in a shallow pool of light from an ancient anglepoise lamp.
Ten, twenty, thirty years later, by day he made vain efforts to instil his knowledge into the brains and hearts of disinterested students whose only thoughts were when and where they would next be squandering their allowances, and still, every night he sat at his desk, still writing.
One day he didn’t appear, his students waited on the old oak benches before the creaking platform which was that day strangely silent, then a visit by the bursar to his little room found it to be vacant, nothing there but for an enormous pile of papers on top of which sat the fountain pen he’d used since a child and an empty ink bottle.
No one could have imagined what the mighty tome contained, it was an account of a way of life he’d never experienced, a fantasy filled with the highs and lows that most of us experience, tales of joy yet sometimes melancholy, tinged with sadness; a story of relationships and adventures, successes and failures, licentiousness and debauchery even, a chronicle of a life unlived yet somehow understood.
A shaft of sunlight fell like a spotlight on his discarded lecturer’s gown which lay crumpled on the floor in the corner of the dismal room and sitting atop, a screwed-up piece of paper on which was scrawled just two words, if only.
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*if you listened to the audio you may have noticed a wrong word in the last sentence, but having made countless attempts at recording it, I really couldn’t face starting over again!
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Thanks to Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting.
this is so sad and powerful, Keith
I’m pleased you found it so. Thanks, Beth.
I agree with Beth. Beautiful piece and I love listening to you read, Keith.
Thanks for your kind words, Maria.
A sad story Keith! But perhaps he has now gone to live his life.
Thanks, Sadje. I’d like to think so.
You’re most welcome
In my opinion, this is one of your best pieces, Keith. It is elegantly written in a classic format, each paragraph complementing the one before and the one after. A sad yet relatable tale, flowing gracefully from beginning to end. Brilliant!
Nancy, I cannot thank you enough. It’s a step aside from my normal style, but I thought I’d have a go! I really appreciate your generous words.
Most welcome! You did a superb job.
Nice description: “a chronicle of a life unlived yet somehow understood”
Kind of you to say so Frank, thank you.
Surely the next-to-saddest of epitaphs
(Old saying, ‘Better to have dreamed than to sleepwalk through life’)
I like that saying! It’s one I’ll remember for sure.
Deep and thought provoking story, Keith. Loved the audio reading with the gentle music in the background. Well done!
That’s really kind of you Suzette, thank you.
You are very welcome Keith!
A perfect ending for the tome … if only! May have been even more powerful if that was the last sentence … but hey who am I to edit. 😇x
Thanks so much. You make a very good point, too late now though!
My heart aches for those who live with “if only.” I know some quite well, indeed.
Mine too, Mimi.
Well told, Keith! “For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: ‘It might have been!’ ” J G Wittier
A fitting quote and a wise one too. Thanks, Christine.
Well written/orated Six. I may be stretching it (and the laws of probability, lol) Keith… at the end, I imagined he’d finished the book, realized he was in the 11th hour of life and endeavored to pursue a miniscule bit of the “if only”.
As the saying goes, it’s never too late. However, he may be the exception to the rule! I know not, Denise.
Oh dear, so sad.
I’m afraid so. Thanks, Chris.
This hit a right spot, Keith. Wondering myself, scribbling away and walking an austere, right path to others who never seem to care.
I’m going to imagine he stepped into his pages and is finally living the life he’s only dreamed of in paper!
Dear Keith,
A poignant tale narrated so powerfully.
Please, please get the book of short stories out now. Pretty, please! 🙂
Whoa, I was depressed before I started reading… dang… forewarn a gal would ja??? That was absolutely strength tying my eyes to the story I must say! Tears welled up in my eyes towards the end, and then when the gentleman disappeared… it was like let you imagination take over, but yet leaving you in limbo!!! You can take that story in different directions if you like, but we all know what happened in our hearts. All I can say is, “OH MY”, and how very gripping!!! Thank you for sharing my friend. I haven’t heard/read a story like that in a long time. Have a good day, but I think your story does leave on kind of hanging to finish it our own way… almost!!! Thank you again! I need some good stories to read. Being disabled is no fun and coming back to blogging sure did pick me up… now all I need is a couple of good books. I was stuck to the TV for a while, but when the weather changed I sure got antsy especially with our very own park across the street. Sometimes I go there to sit under a tree. Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice!!!!