Seth Avett and a Strange Summer

May 21, 2013 § Leave a comment

As demonstrated by the slow disappearance of school buses making their rounds, it’s summer for many students. For me, this means I’ve completed high school. And for those of you bound to ask the age-old question, “How does it feel…?” I have an answer of sorts. It feels like every other summer; it feels like I am on a week long break from 12th grade. No, really, it does. College is lingering on a far away hill, shrouded in the fog of new beginnings (thank goodness, because I am not ready for it quite yet). Nonetheless, I am looking forward to it.

On another note, I met Seth Avett. He seemed to me an extremely wonderful person.

My summer began as best as any summer could ever begin, with the fellowship of best friends. The myth that you can only have one best friend may easily be disproven, if one so wishes. In addition to lasting memories made in the early days of summer, I am writing a story, which at some point may develop into a longer short story or a novella. (After reading Of Mice and Men, I rather like the idea of a novella—a story more intricate than a short story could portray, yet shorter than the oh so tedious and time-consuming novel.) I am thoroughly enjoying the characters in this current piece, with the working title of “Patterns.” They are a trip, to be sure. :)

Here is an excerpt:

Barely reaching 5’3” the visitor was easy to pass by without a second glance, but he dutifully pressed on, muttering to himself. “321… 321… 

Ah!” One of the nurses nearby jumped at the sound of his voice; it was not at all what you would expect from a man his size. He raised a thick fist to the door, but before the motion was complete, an attendant rushed over from the desk across the hallway and stood at his side, chiding him.

“Sir, don’t do that. Sir! Pardon me! What is your name?”

“Norman,” he glared at her.

“Business?”

“Is there a problum heeyer?”

“Business,” she prompted.

With a sigh he talked in slow motion, “I’m heeyer to see the mayuhn in ‘dis room.”

“In regards to what?”

Norman pulled a small leather book from his heavy coat pocket and presented it to her like a sign.

“And from whom did you get permission?

“Yah don’t really think—”

“From whom.”

A short huff escaped his lungs. “Suzy.”

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