I've been writing for a while now, and thought since i'm here it might be fun to share something i've written. Jimmy Marks is a character who's had many names in many different stories i've written but this is the first time he's been the main character, it's a kind of character study of the great Jimmy marks. Comments, hatemail, etc appreciated.
Jimmy Marks was old. He was bald but figured his hair had just emigrated to his nose, which he thought was his best feature, so he was much more satisfied with the arrangement. Everyone thought he was senile but he had long ago grown tired of remembering names, so called everyone sparky. At his time of life he reasoned, he'd met all the friends and family he'd needed and frankly had become tired of them many years ago so sparky would do. Besides, he liked the name sparky.
Jimmy had led a life without regrets. He'd married the only woman he'd loved, fathered five children and taken every opportunity that came his way. He'd made his fortune in business starting with a corner shop and growing it into a supermarket then a nationwide supermarket then worldwide until eventually he was the head of one of the worlds biggest conglomerates. He'd liked the business world because he understood it. He wasn't a greedy man but he knew one when he saw one and to avoid them. He was comfortable in the world of business and he taught his children to be comfortable in it too.
His children are his legacy and he made damn sure they acted as such. He gave them all the education he could and when two of his sons and one of his daughters decided to follow in his footsteps he knew he'd taught them well. He made sure they started at the bottom in his company and worked their way up. Which is what made it all the more surprising when they wrestled the company from his grip and packed him off to a retirement home.
“Senile! Senile they called me. Im not senile at all am I sparky?” he shouted as the nurse stepped into the room. “of course not Mr. Marks” she sighed as she placed a newspaper, a paper cup of water and three pills on a dresser. The peach walls of Jimmys palatial room were dotted with art works and pictures of him with various dignitaries and celebrities. His bed was a gothic masterpiece, covered in carvings of golems and angels in an eternal game of kiss chase, a four poster goliath that dominated the huge open room. Couches and sumptous leather wingback chairs were strewn about the landscape more to take up space in the room than for any real purpose.
The nurse handed Jimmy the newspaper and waited until he was ready for his medication. She had learned in the three months he'd been in Rossati Retirement Home that Mr. Marks only does things when he's good and ready. The medication was mainly mood stabilizers and sleeping pills, a childhood spent in the local boxing clubs, a lifetime love of golf and good genes had left Jimmy with a healthy if stubborn body, just like him it took alot of cajoling, flattery and perseverance to convince it to do anything.
The newspaper was a daily ritual, Jimmy would skim through the pages looking for his name or any news about his company, he would check the obituaries to add a mental note of any of his friends or rivals he had out lived and remember to hold it over them once he finally met his maker. Jimmy wasn't afraid of dying, he wasn't afraid of anything except waking up with the awful feeling of a damp patch in the bed.
I'm not sure how I missed this when it was posted, but I really like this.
I loved this line:
Is there more? There must be more.
There is more, unfortunately my internet time is very restricted since my laptop melted. I shall try to post more soon