I don’t often put fiction that I write out on the blog, mostly because I’m not very good at it.
But, I wrote something about a week ago when I was feeling a little down and I decided to put this out there for whatever its worth.

Thank you for reading.
Sainath


On the line where the sea meets the land there are times when waves lend themselves to shapes. On some occasions these shapes transform into letters that one could decipher if they were clever.

This is about one of those times when these letters with seeming rarity come together to form words.

The place is where Jerry Jolly grew up.

Looking at him now, with a song on his lips and the mysteries of the universe above him, it’d be safe to assume that Jerry Jolly was not the worrying kind.

But, that’s the thing about people that people don’t get,  even though they get that about themselves,  something about getting the same about somebody else puts them off in a way that doesn’t really make sense to them and they don’t seem to care.

But, Jerry Jolly really was not the worrying kind.

His days were spent with reckless planning, he’d wake up one morning decide that he’d want to climb the tallest mountain in the world and get out to try to do it. 

Not that he ever tried to climb the tallest mountain, nor would he be able to. But, that’s the kind of guy Jerry was.

Jerry Jolly was once asked what he would do if at the same time, his house was on fire and someone had stolen his car. He said he’d take the next bus to nowhere.

If you can, do, if you can’t, don’t worry. 

He had that on his car bumper.

So, yes, Jerry Jolly was not the worrying kind, and especially tonight, looking like a scene out of a painting, lying on the beach singing that sweet summer song of nothing, it would be a fair assumption to make that Jerry was not worried.

But, this is one of those rare times when the waves formed words and tonight is not like every other night.

Like every night that’s not like any other night, there’s something about tonight that started several years ago.

There were very few things that he cared about in life.
There were very few things that he felt needed caring.

A few years before the words formed, Jerry Jolly started caring about something.

It’s not often that you make a man who doesn’t care, care.

The problem was he didn’t know how to. He just knew he had to.

A few years have gone by and now, he’s left with that sweet summer song about nothing on his lips.

Jerry liked to say that the song was about nothing, because most times, that’s what things are about.

Looking at him, you’d be fair in assuming that was what tonight was about too.

On a beautiful night like tonight, with the waves cresting the beach, Jerry was simply one more carefree slave to his senses.

But, tonight is not like every other night.

Jerry had learned to care, that was his problem. 

It took him a while to realise this had happened. 

Much like a baby who hasn’t realised what he’s done when he walks for the first time, Jerry didn’t know what he was doing. 

Just like the parents that would applaud for the baby out of joy, Jerry had been cheered, he didn’t know what for. But, he continued to walk and so did Jerry.

The problem with caring is letting go. 

The problem Jerry had was not knowing that he cared. 

Letting go was a whole other thing.

Which is why when he found himself on the brink with everything to lose, he let go.
He still didn’t know what he was doing.

That was another summer night, it wasn’t like tonight and he didn’t have a song on his lips.

As he lay there on the shore with the waves ebbing and flowing, Jerry’s eyes glistened and gloomed with the stories the stars had to tell.

When Jerry let go, he fell. 

If you’ve ever jumped off the edge of a cliff with no rope holding on to you, you’ve done what he did that night. 
As you fall the only thing you notice is the quickening pace of the side of the cliff as it passes you by.

Everything you once knew and admired, having let go of, seem so far away. The thing about Jerry was, he was falling blind. The sides just passed him by.

Once you’ve started falling, usually, it takes about 20 seconds before you hit the ground. It takes a little longer in real life, for Jerry, it took 8 months.

Tonight, Jerry was singing a song about that night, 8 months lesser than a few years ago, when he found out he cared the hard way.

Nobody spoke about Jerry the same way again, in fact, they never spoke about Jerry anymore. You don’t jump off a cliff with nothing to hold on to without everybody giving up on you. In a town of nobodies, Jerry was forgotten.

That night, Jerry started climbing, and much like caring, he didn’t know how to climb until he fell down. The falls were shorter, until there was no fall at all.

Tonight, Jerry thought about all those nights that can now only be memories. There were very few things that Jerry cared about, and the only way he knew how now was whether it made him hear his own heart beat.

There were times before he first let go that he could’ve heard it, but, he wasn’t listening. The stars had stories to tell and all he could do now was listen.

They told him of the time he felt lightness for the first time, suspended in a world of his  own creation where time ceased to be, where the only thing the mattered was the only thing that could hurt him, where the only thing that could hurt him, never would.

They told him of the time he felt warmth for the first time, when the thumping of his heart caused his world to shake, and he couldn’t listen, for the only thing he could hear was the voice with him in that timeless place.

They told him of the time he crushed his own world, when the voice stopped talking, when the warmth went away, and every bead of sweat froze on the remains of what once was.

Jerry had scaled the cliff and the stars were bright tonight.

They told him stories of what once were.

They told him stories of what could’ve been.

All Jerry could do tonight was listen. 

Jerry wished he’d learnt how to listen a few years ago.

His heart no longer thumped. 

He longed to listen. But, there was only silence and the stories the stars told.

The song on his lips had ceased to be.

Jerry Jolly was a beaten man who didn’t care.

The stars then told him stories of what could be.

They told him of when he’d think of tonight a few years later, when maybe he had climbed again, when there was warmth again.

He stood up, a songless man who couldn’t hear his heart, he’d heard enough.

As left his footsteps behind, the stars shone less brighter. 

As the waves formed a word, and Jerry listened, a ray of light leapt at him from above.

The word this time was Hope.

He heard his heart thump again.
The time is now.