Well guys, I'd like to introduce my newest project. [Very] Tentatively titled Of Jacob, I hope to create a collection of short stories following the man named Jacob, living in an unnamed state on the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. I hope to turn this thing into a novel-length collection of stories.
Generally speaking, my overarching theme concerns the nature of mythologies in the world. Readers will hopefully take it upon themselves to explore and question my underlying philosophy.
Anyway, this is only half of the first short story. Please beware of major typos, including some confusion with Jacob's name--I made the last minute to change his name from Abrem to Jacob. Also, don't worry if you're left wondering where this is going. Remember that this is only half of a piece that might be better read as a whole.
Enjoy,
Thom Gulino
P.S. Andrew, I've been waiting for a bit more time to give you some more solid feedback on Otis. Did you get my first minor critique?
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Here follows the first of many tales concerning the man, Jacob, and his life’s encounters with gods and demons...
Observers on the Brink of Perception
by Thom Gulino
For him there was often unrest. Though he led a fine life, in sleeping hours he would hear the whispers of gods long dead. From shores of grey dusk and from deep wells came voices once heard in the old stories. They were cold and frightened him. But always, before waking, he would find some peace in a thought, a bit of light, a touch of breeze.
Jacob sat by the Southern shores, behind him the great, tamed world of
Taking his eyes from the heavens, Jacob, looked along the shore, white in the moonlight. The waves in their rhythm were calming and he liked the emptiness of the beaches. The air was always warm here, and at night the cool breeze from off the ocean gave one the sense of feeling the winds of far-off places. The moon on the waters, too, made him think of his times looking out over the prairies in Tuscon or the grassland of
Knowing of the beauty before him and the grandeur behind, Jacob was allowed some time of peace. However, with these moments of quite in thought, he soon began to reflect on his life’s condition.
He was a fit, middle-aged man with black, grey-peppered hair. Twelve years ago he had married a younger woman named Juliet and they had lived happily for some time. Now they were well…well enough. “Happy” was still the term he used to describe their relationship. Juliet was beautiful and Jacob had never struggled to provide for her. They loved each other, having met as graduate students in a small town of southern
But it was Jacob’s shame that had brought a stain on their contentment. He had never been able to give Juliet children, and it was this bane of his peace that occupied him now. Yes, men had at first envied him: “You’ll never have any worries in sex,” they’d say. “You’ll never have to use condoms.” They were right. For a few years the sex was passionate and free. But it seemed not long before the mundane set in, leaving them both desiring. He saw Juliet wishing that some greater meaning might come from their lovemaking. She looked at him a little less.
Jacob shook his head and snuffed those little burning thoughts. Why couldn’t he stay satisfied knowing that other men envied him?
To occupy himself he stood and turned from the sea. Still listening to the waves’ rhythm he fancied that he heard a faint whisper, a word fashioned by the breath of the sea breeze. This unintelligible fancy, more than anything, calmed his mind, and he began back home.
That night he slept next to Juliet, uneasy in dream. The whisper of the wind had long since left him, and in its absence despair threatened his soul.
Jacob stood in a field he had known as a child—a great, stretching field used for growing corn. Now it was winter in the ground was brown, riddled with the dead remains of stalk and leaf. Above him the stars were coming out, winking in their black sky. As he gazed upwards at those expanses he envied the contentment of those lonely watchers.
The man looked down for only a moment, for the stars slowly began to break their eternal silence. They whispered, incomprehensibly, then began to laugh. They laughed and danced, and as Jacob looked back up at those giggling multitudes he understood. They laughed at him. “Oh impotent man,” came the gleeful whispers. “Oh poor and loin-less. You are Unman! Womanish!”
Dismay gripped him and his mind felt clouded beneath those ever clear skies. He felt the scorn of the stars bite into him. “You unfortunate child of wretched ancestors!” they continued. “Barren! Loin-less, loin-less man!” Jacob flung his hands skywards, threatening the cruel ones. ‘Stop,” he shouted. “Stop you all! I am a man. Loinless? I am the envy of many men! My beautiful wife and my bed are ecstasy.”
“Loinless!”
“No! I will show you. See!” In madness Jacob tore his pants to the ground. Above, the stars’ chorus swelled into hilarity. “Loinless!”
Jacob looked down and cried out. Below he found only flatness. He was maimed, undone. The crying man fell to his knees, retching and spilling out the star’s cruelty in his own tears.
He awoke in sweat. Gasping in air, he felt moisture dripping from his palms and knew that he had clenching his nails into skin.
