Page Four: Depression 

            “This is your seventh consecutive novel to hit number one as soon as it was published. How do you feel to have obtained such a success, and at such a young age too?”
            Gon remembered that his pager vibrated silently then, as soon as the talk show host had asked him that simple question. “Well, I don’t really know.” Gon had laughed as he answered, his mind still thinking about the pager as he talked. Nobody knew his pager number except for Kara, and she wouldn’t bother him now unless it was an emergency.

            Right after the show, he had called the number his pager recorded. He had cried loudly when he received the news, when he had heard about her jump into the subway lights. The colors had slowly faded away then, until they became no more than the bland ones he saw now, the ones that weren’t even worth mentioning at all.

            That was what went though his mind as he heard about Danny’s death on the news. “Danny Naoieurth, age fifty-five, was murdered along with his family in their New York apartment.” That was how the news anchorwoman had described it, as Danny’s tired face was shown on the corner of the television screen, before the camera jumped into a recorded footage of the inside of Danny’s home, showing the police trying to keep the cameras out of the crime place.

            “The police found fingerprints and hair strands, yet could not match them to any person…” The anchorwoman had continued, but Gon could hear her no more, as his heart beat faster and faster, one thing capturing all the senses of his mind. The dirty walls of the apartment were filled with phrases, repeating themselves over and over again, painted in the bloods of the dead: “tHE HeavEns anD Hells aRe Full, now tHE stoRiEs aRE tHE sPiRits only ReFuGE”. 

*   *   *   *   *   * 

            Danny’s death didn’t exactly devastate Gon, yet it shocked him. He skipped school for a few days after Danny’s death was announced on the eleven o’clock news. Gon just sat around his house, thinking about Danny, and how he was the one who published Gon’s first works, and made Gon the famous writer he was now. Gon didn’t know whom to call, considering that he didn’t have to consolate Danny’s wife and children, for they too were murdered along Danny, and Danny didn’t have any other relatives besides them.

            Danny was an orphan, left on the footsteps of a New York church, never knowing who or why they had left him there. It was pretty impressive the way Danny had fought from being an abused child in the orphanage, to the powerful publisher and agent that he was before his death. Yet Gon didn’t know if what Danny had told him before, about his hardships before becoming an agent, were true or not, for Danny was just that kind of a person. You never knew if he told you the truth or not. He was just that kind of a guy.

            Lynn came to Gon’s home more often now than before, ever since Danny’s death was announced officially on television screens around the country. She comforted Gon with soft words and warm hugs, kisses on the forehead that encouraged him to leave behind his sadness, and concentrate on what he was doing. He was writing the untitled, and he was going to finish it.

The untitled has now slowly progressed into a dramatic romance novel. The story now had Gon Guree meet a girl named Kara White, a girl whose beauty captivated Guree’s every feelings. As much as Guree was in love with her, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her about it. Yet, she became a new inspiration for Guree, who were now fueled by the power of love, and using that power, he started to write romance stories. The stories were themselves a reflection of Guree’s fantasy, and of how he dreamed his weird love relationship might end. Some of them ended in tragedies, with either the main female character dying, or the main male character confessing his love in his dying breath. Yet, some of them were melodramatic ones, where they both live happily ever after, or at least know what the other one really feels.

Lynn was kind and unselfish throughout Gon’s depression about Danny’s death. If it weren’t for her, he probably wouldn’t have been able to continue with the untitled, and lost his writings once again to sadness and depression. Gon wasn’t sure about it, yet he felt like he was falling in love with her.

            She insisted to go with him to Danny’s funeral in New York, and Gon was fine with that, for he didn’t want to be away from her either. The drive to New York and the funeral itself didn’t impact Gon as much as he thought it would. Maybe because Lynn was there to comfort him, to accompany him.

            Danny had a pretty nice funeral, his pale body in a shiny wooden casket, rainbow-colored flowers surrounded him with floral perfumes, as if to cover up the odor that will slowly decay out of him. Gon didn’t cry in the funeral, even though he thought that he should, for everybody should at least shed a tear for every death of a human being. Yet he couldn’t, he didn’t know why, or what to do about it. Every one who attended the funeral was either workers from the publishing company, or authors that Danny was an agent to. There were no friends, or people who cared enough to just come to honor his death. There were just people meeting here because they had to, and because of this, no love or grief were felt in the room. Just presences, presences that occupied a space in a room, something that could happen anywhere, no unique feelings for this man. Danny was nothing more than a statue to watch.

            “I heard that his wife and kids are gonna have their funerals somewhere else.” Gon heard someone whisper in the bench behind him, a man’s voice that he did not recognize as someone he knew or remembered.

            “Guess no one wants to be with Danny,” some other unidentifiable male voice responded, also in a whisper, to the comment made from the other guy. “Or be affiliated with him, even after they’re dead, huh?”

            Silent snickers, silent chuckles. Probably from voices that didn’t match their face. Everyone was such a hypocrite.

Everyone seemed to be in the funeral for the free food, for everyone started to leave after the food was gone. Gon including. There wasn’t really anything about Danny that could be said or told, anything good or appropriate that is. Danny just died a shell of a man, someone that nobody understood or knew, someone that nobody cared. Gon only looked back once at the casket, and there he didn’t see Danny at all, but just a casket and some flowers.

            “Let’s go.” Was all that Lynn had to say to get him going, for there really wasn’t anything to hold him there. Danny wasn’t anyone important in his life, Gon realized that now, just some person he met during the course of his life.

            “Yeah, let’s.” Gon replied, as they headed out of the white-walled church, heading back toward the Empire Hotel, the place they were staying at during this brief visit to New York. 

“You see, there are three kinds of writers: The ones who write for money, the ones who write because it gives them joy, and the ones who write because they’re forced to.”

            Nate had cried that out in some Christmas party, as Kara rested her head on Gon’s jeans-covered legs, drinking eggnog out of a cocktail glass. “’Forced to’?” Gon had replied as he relaxed on the creamy green couch. “What do you mean by ‘forced to’?”

            “The writers who are forced to write are those who get these flashes of scenes and images in their minds, bits and bits of character that pops out into the writer’s mind. Over a period of time, the bits and scenes slowly join together to form a story and a world in the writer’s mind. Now, the writer can’t get all these images out of his mind, and because of them, he or she can’t feel peaceful or in control. So, in order to get them out of his mind, he is forced to write them down on paper, to which the images translate to, and they leave his mind.”

            “That sounds just like Gon,” Kara giggled as she said this, finishing the last of her eggnog. “He’ll get hyper once he’s got a story in his mind, and he won’t stop until he’s finished putting it all into paper, even if it is at three in the morning.”

            “That’s great, Gon!” Nate yelled out as he let out a drunken laugh. “That’s the true writer’s instinct, that’s what separates a true writer from the rest.”

            That was the last time Gon had seen Nate alive. The next time he saw him, it would be at his funeral. An automobile accident had taken away his life.

            The rain woke Gon up a little now, the coldness dispelling the cloud inside his mind. The scenes had returned once again, images of the untitled, characters that spoke on their own, as soon as his pen touched the blank pages of a notebook. He was now writing once again, the relationship between Lynn and him had given him the strength to continue. Just as the wizard had said before, Lynn was now his new charm.

            Yet, he felt no joy throughout the month, as he continued to work on the untitled. In the past, he always felt a lot of happiness when he was writing, as if the creations of new worlds and characters fueled his heart, making him feel as if he’d accomplished something. That wasn’t the feeling that the untitled gave him. He felt more and more depressed as each page was completed, sadness that not even Lynn could take away. The untitled only made Gon think of Kara, of all the times they had spend together, or the way her blonde hair used to wave in the summer winds.

            He didn’t even have a title yet, the words Untitled still staying on the top of the first page. “The only reason that your story is without a title,” Nate had said once, “is because it’s unfinished. If your story is truly finished, then a title should easily surface into your mind.”

            Maybe Nate was right. The untitled truly was unfinished, for the images and scenes have not yet revealed the ending of the piece, but only gave him enough information to continue onto the next page.


            The whisper startled Gon under the rain. He looked around for the source of the voice. He was still

alone on the roof of the Empire Hotel, nobody to be seen anywhere in the falling drops of rain. Maybe Danny’s funeral tired me more than I thought, Gon wondered as he looked down from the roof again. Everybody seemed so fake when you watched them from the thirty-fifth floor of any hotel. He should be resting up now. Tomorrow was going to be a long trip home.

            “Gon… It’s me…”

            The voice came around again, as Gon let out a scared gasp, his eyes looking around. Nobody else was there with him.


            That’s when he saw her, on the far corner of the roof, standing barefoot on the concrete roof. “Gon…” She whispered, a smile drawn up on her face, the long blonde hair dancing in the pounding rain. Gon felt his breathings get faster and faster, heavier with each intake of air. It was Kara, her blue eyes still smiled in the way they always did. The white robe she was wearing seemed to shine off in the gray day. Her arms now slowly raised, signaling him to get closer to her, to be with her, to smell her scent again.

            Gon felt his body involuntarily walk toward her, slowly, as if floating in a dream. He didn’t know what to think anymore. He didn’t care. “Come with me, Gon…” Her beautiful voice called out to him as he followed her, her figure moving away from him.

            She seemed to walk on the air, effortlessly, floating on some unseen bridge. Gon was now at the edge of the roof, looking down at all the fake-looking people walking along the soaking-wet streets. “Come with me, Gon…” Her right hand extended out toward him, white skin inviting him to take it, for them to be together again.

            Gon felt the raindrops falling on his skin, as he raised his right hand, ready to take it, not caring anymore.


            His head snapped around when he heard another voice, a familiar one, yelling at him from some other end of the roof. He saw Lynn, waving at him from the exit of the roof, smiling under her rainbow-colored umbrella. Gon quickly looked back to where his eyes had been. She was gone. Kara was no longer there.

“So here you are.” Lynn’s voice approached him as he slowly backed away from the edge. “I couldn’t find you anywhere. I was starting to get worried.”

            Gon saw that her smile dropped once he had turned toward her, and was replaced by a worried expression on her face. He just looked at her in silence, confusion and fear reflected in his eyes. “Gon, are you okay? You look so pale…” She asked in a worried voice, as she quickly neared him to cover him under the umbrella’s reach.

            He cracked. He didn’t know why, it just happened then, as he quickly embraced Lynn, tighter, tears sliding down his cheeks, no longer able to hold them back. “I don’t know anymore, Lynn!” He cried as he held her tighter, his body shaking as sobs rose out from underneath him. “I think I am losing my mind…”


Page 4


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