I'm going to try something new. I'm in the process of learning how to write. It turns out that writing is a lot harder than reading. With that in mind, I'm going to post a short story here and am open to feedback. There are seven chapters, so I'll post a chapter a day for the next week. I hope you enjoy it.
The Journal of Stephen Michael Hobbs
Sunday, June 5th
This is not a love story. At least not like any love story I ever heard of being told. But in another way I guess it is a love story. Maybe the truest love story ever told. More true than that romance junk they sell down at the drugstore in Granton. The kind with those roided up men wearing those open white shirts with the billowy sleeves and some chick in a low cut old timey dress. The one's that all have that same guy on the cover. That big guy with the long hair. You know who I mean. This isn't that kind of story at all.
I never kept a journal before now. But these days I got a lot a time on my hands and I need to fill it with something. God knows it doesn't pass easy. Getting all this down on paper is as good a way as any. Besides, I like to think that someday someone might read this diary and learn something from it. Kind of like that Jewish kid that wrote about Nazi's and stuff. Like that, except I ain't Jewish and the Nazi's are the least of my problems these days.
But back to the main point. I don't believe there could ever be another love like mine to tell about, but maybe writing about it could help somebody in some way with some lesser romance. I like to think maybe it could. I got to tell you though, I never realized how hard it was to try to write stuff down. My hand can't keep up with all these thoughts in my head and by the time I finish writing a line I don't remember where I was going anyway and have to read what I wrote all over again to remember what I need to write next. Maybe it gets easier as you go. We'll see. This might end up being the world's shortest story. I suppose that would be okay too. Maybe there ain't anything to learn from it anyway. Maybe no one will even read it in the first place.
I guess I should start by telling you who I am and who she is. Those are the important parts to the story I suppose. I was born Stephen Michael Jamison, but I guess you could say that my mother had some difficulty sticking to any one particular marital vow. Because of that, I went through a few different last names before landing with my current one. I've also been an Arnold, a Jefferson, and an Eddings along the way. The last sucker to adopt me and force a name change left me Stephen Michael Hobbs, but everyone has always called me Stevie for as far back as I can remember. I never liked being called Stevie. Never. It sounds like such a baby name. Nobody ever asked me what I ought to be called though, so Stevie it was. Still is.
Her name is Meredith Lane Watson. I don't know if she ever had any other names, but I don't think so. Her mother is one ugly cow, so it's hard to imagine more than one man being willing to marry her. I guess Meredith picked up some recessive traits or something, cause she doesn't look anything like her mom, thank the good Lord in heaven. We learned about recessive traits in biology class. I always liked my science classes back when I was in school. At one point I wanted to be a scientist, but that never happened. I guess you could say a lot of things didn't happen. I guess a lot of things never will happen. That's just the way things go. "The Lord's will" they say. They're always saying some junk like that. As if God really cared if I was gonna be a scientist or not. I figure God has a lot more important things to think about than my career plans. But I guess neither God or I have to worry much about that any more. I think it's safe to say I'm pretty set in my current path at this point.
I don't think you ever get over your first real and only love. No matter how much time goes by and what happens along the way. You keep right on loving them until the day you die. I don't know. Maybe you keep on loving them after that. I like to think so.
That's all I got for tonight. Looking back at the page it looks pitiful compared to how much time it took to scratch all of this out. I would have thought it would be a lot longer. Tomorrow I'll tell you about how we first met.