Young Writers Society

Actually, this was never meant to be a story, I wrote it as a homework assignment for Drama, but got a bit carried away. I've decided that I like it, and while I'm not sure I'm going to do much to it after I hand it in tommorow morning, I'd love some general opinions. It might help me when I write other things that meen a bit more to me. No in depth grammer needed, on this story at least.

A letter of introduction. From me to you, upon my death. To explain the actions of my life and what I, as a man was like, really like. Because to my understanding, no one who knew me while I was alive ever knew the full of me, they saw one part a then stereotyped. I think that even if you have all gotten together you could never fully understand me, there was always a part of myself I hid, and that is why I am writing you this letter. I do not intend to repeat this experience, this laying bare of my innermost soul. For no matter how my life changes in the future I doubt I will ever reach this point again. I do not wish to reach this point again. For now I am at the bottom of my soul, my emotions spent, my courage or cowardice used up. And now, I will start my story.

I grew up with my parents and 3 siblings in a one room flat above a bank in London. I know that sounds cliché, I’ve heard it enough in my short spurt of confusion, but in my life it was truth. My parents were unremarkable people, but they worked hard. They tried to give us a better life, but the 4 of us just seemed too many, and it was a never ending struggle raising us. As the eldest, I was often ignored, thought to be able to look after myself, do things my own way. And so from a young age I had my independence, my reliance upon myself, and I used this freedom to learn. I was quick and inquisitive, and because of this my parents saw fit to scrape together what little money they had to send me to school.

It was not hard for me to leave my family, I loved them of course, but it was so crowded, such an ugly world to live in. Every day I was thankful that I had gotten out. It was at school where I learned to write and read, but most of all I excelled in maths. Any problem set before me was one I had to answer, I could not say no. I started helping others with they’re problems, many a influential man has only gotten into his position because of my help, and in return I received many other gifts. Eventually it turned into a fee, the price you had to pay to get my help, and I began saving, not yet understanding why I had the inclination to do so. I was happy then, I was looked up to by my peers, cared for by my teachers, and all in the world seemed right. Now, looking back, I should have known that something would happen, that one twist in the road always leads to another. My going to school would have the consequences that no one could have dreamt of, but that doesn’t stop the dreams from coming, every night.

Halfway through the term I got a message. Marked urgent as it was I went and received it immediately, and to my horror, it was not good news. My parents had been in an accident something involving a coach… I can’t remember all the details just now. My father had been killed. My father, the man who had given me life, was now gone from it. My mother was still alive, but in critical condition, and friends, the same friends who had sent me the letter to begin with, had removed her to our flat. They feared that she would not live without medical care. Medical care that I could not afford. Even with all of the savings I had scraped together it was not enough. My mother died. I will say no more of it.

After that… My outlook changed somewhat. The fact that all of my money could not help tortured me, and I came to the conclusion that it was because I did not have enough. To begin with, this new revelation only made me throw myself further into my studies, recruit more students who wished to learn from me and to raise my prices, but that did not last. I wanted more than they could give and so my students, my friends dropped away slowly, leaving me in a solitude I did not desire. So I turned my mind to other schemes I could use to make my fortune. I started mistreating others, deliberately mistreating them so that I could gain some control over a world that seemed to have lost control. And although the money came slowly, the respect came fast, and I reveled in it. Unfortunately, my new pastime soon ceased to be a private pastime, as the headmaster came to hear of my court and promptly had me chucked out of his school. I know in my head that it would have happened sooner or later, who would keep an orphan in a school for young men, but to be thrown out on your ear is not a pleasant thing. I felt, and feel to this day that I had done nothing wrong, nothing to warrant my being thrown on my ear.

I was lucky. I was always lucky although that was not how I saw myself, and within a week I had managed to shape up enough to get myself apprenticed, I the field I knew most about, banking. The mistress I had was kind, and this was one of the few happy time I can recall in my life, and it was made even happier my the arrival of a certain girl, one whom all of you should know if you know me at all. Her name was Belle. It was through her that I learned to forget my hurt, leave behind my pain and look to my future, and everywhere I looked in the future I saw her smiling face. I proposed, and she accepted, and my life was a happy one, until the news of my sister came. It seems that, while I had been away at school, that my sister had gone and gotten herself with child, the likes of with whom I never knew. This had been the state of things for nine months, and now she had died in labor. I… I can’t quite say why, I didn’t know this sister particularly well, I didn’t care for her more than the others, I hadn’t even seen her for years, but the news changed me. My heart seemed to turn to stone, and I through myself into my pursuit of money more than I ever had before. I believe I would have lost my wife then, in that frenzy, if the war hadn’t come first.

This part of my life, of all my life, you do not need to know. Truth be told, you should not wish to know. The atrocities I saw when I was abroad, they solidified the change in me. The cruelty that humans can inflict upon another of their species, those whose hearts it did not break it hardened. Both of my brothers, my last too living relative died in the war. And I survived. From this point forward there was no way back.

Although that section of my life seemed to span a lifetime, in the world back home it was actually quite short. My nephew, who I came to know upon my return as he had no more family to take care of him, was still a child, and Belle and I took care of him. This healed the rift that had formed during the war, Belle had always wanted a child, but the war had done too much to me to make the transition into normal life, healing, and loving, that simple. Yet again I distanced myself from all I held dear, all except for the money and my work. In fact the amazing progress I had made in these last two was phenomenal, in the space of a year I attracted the attention of a very important man, one who I would come to see as a role model for my own life.

His name was Jacob Marley, and from the moment he looked at me he recognized my potential. Very soon, we became partners in his firm. And equally as soon, I left my wife. At the very height of my triumph was also the deed which I have regretted for so many years now, the deed which I have spent my life trying to ignore, and the deed I have never fully gotten over. I wasn’t there when she died; I didn’t have time for the funeral. I was so wrapped up in my own affairs that even the death of my son did not bother me much; at least that’s what I told myself. The next years of my life went by in a whirl of money, as I grew steadily richer and richer, and farther and farther from what life is about.

As for the next bit… I feel no need to tell you about the next bit. You were all there, you know what happened that Christmas so long ago. For a time… I changed. I returned to what I had been, in my youth, in my happiness, and then, I faded yet again. The sadness in my life had been too much to throw away after one night of spiritual rubbish.

Well, now you know me. You know who I am-was, to the every detail, the every fault. You knew my being, my hopes, my wants, my dreams, what made my heart beat fast, and what caused my mind to shut down in pain. In my death, I hope this knowledge is not useless to you. I hope that someone who reads this will understand. That’s all I ever really wanted… someone who could understand. And I came so close before I let it get away. So close, to the happier ending that the world knows, the publicized end. The ending you see was not the ending, that happy carefree giving of my wealth… that never went further than an afternoon at the Cratchit’s home. My love of money was too strong for that. This is the story of Ebenezer Scrooge, take heed of my condition, and do not make it your own.

And that's it! Thanks in advance for any imput, I appreciate the help. If I've posted this in the wrong section (I'm not quite sure) please tell me so that I don't make this sort of mistake again.