For this installment of “Beginnings of Stories I will Never Write,” we pick a story that I tried to write based on a final line I came up with.
During the last scene in this story, which was never written, Chris was supposed to be stopped by an evangelist who would ask him if he’d found Jesus yet. Normally Chris would respond “I didn’t know he was missing” but this time he says “You know what, I think he found me.”
I imagine there was going to be some warming of hearts and perhaps some supernatural chicanery. Nevertheless it did not ever get written.
I started this in September of 1999. At that time, I had been going out with my wife Mary for only about 1 year, was a Sophomore in college, and was listening to music like “Tubthumping” by Chumba Wumba… Okay, shit, now I gotta go spend some money on iTunes.
It was the third day after the stranger’s death, and Christopher still felt like shit. It was a Sunday, not an abnormal fact in and of itself. In fact, Christopher was quite used to Sundays, having spent about one seventh of his life getting to know them. The thing that bugged Chris the most this particular Sunday was the steady stream of churchgoers that he knew would pass by his house in a little less than half an hour.