Alpha and Omega

Story written by dickensonfan on Tuesday 31, March 2020

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life is beginning and endings

Overall Rating: 96.9%

This writing has been rated by 2 members, resulting in a rating of 96.9% overall. Below is a breakdown of these results:

Spelling & Grammar:100%
Alpha and Omega Rev 22:13 “I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.” In the beginning he hated it. What responsibility? What parent does this? Time for baseball lost to scrubbing spots out of carpets and cleaning stench piles off the floor. Pouring out kibble and cleaning up slobber and crumbs. “Bad enough, bad enough”, he thought. “But this!??” His mitt, what was left of it, in the can. Chewed, torn and slimey. Weeks. Weeks developing that pocket. Perhaps he had reason to be miserable. His faults were so visible. And no one let him forget it. His mother could see his irresponsibility. His father could see his clumsiness. His sister could see his obnoxiousness. His grandmother could see his foolishness. His teacher could see lack of effort. In the land of the sighted he was cursed. But the dog was blind. Blind as a statue. At night. Moonless. In the fog. In the beginning he hated her. Moving in next door. Her parents putting up a fence. Blocking off half the backyard diamond. Her, outdoors. Laughing. Engaging. Bright. Gracious. Popular. Easily everything he wished to be. Yet constantly trying to talk to him. What the heck? Why would he want to talk to her? She had a dog. And he didn’t. In the beginning he hated them. Loud, chaotic, dirty. Running over his lawn. Breaking his window. Echoing his curses. Playing in the streets. Racing for bases. Heedless of traffic. Pretending it was baseball. Every morning he walked past her urn and glared at them out the window. They had a team. And he had no one. Time passes. Gentrification infects. It bleaches the league he began years ago. League parents meet in the church conference room to hide from the public eye. God’s ever dutiful service to bigotry. Now well funded. Clean and pure. He sits with them for the last time. The cancer rips and tears inside him. It offers him one month. Only. He stands amid tepid applause to receive his Certificate of Appreciation and kiss off. And he thinks, “With my luck this will be another God damned beginning.” But, he had come to know beginnings.

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    I like this piece of writing quite a bit, and yet as a standalone piece I have issues with it. I'd prefer to see some lead up to this bit of prose, something that sets the scene with a bit of image to help the reader meditate on the setting surrounding this person a they consider their past in a flurry of thoughts and memory.

    While I like the style you've employed to paint the pattern of thought with words, I found myself trying to picture where the person was as they reasoned through this.

    Good job overall, however.
    This could easily be Chapter 2 to "The Vision." The pair could very easily be linked together. You may want to give that a try. That said, nicely done.
    Thank you both for your kindness and recommendations. I believe you give me too much credit. I pretend that I wrote this bare bones in order to bring into sharp focus the impact of critical beginnings and their loss. But that's just a cop out. I don't think I'm capable of sustaining a whole story that conveys a believable context or holds anyone's interest. I dread the result of an attempt.