Topic: Seasons of Change

Jake Duncan

Date: 2007-10-24 09:10 EST
That woman! That dang woman at the inn the other day, she had really gotten inside his head. "I am not cynical, I'm just a realist." Those had been her words. Jake had been thinking about that all day as he wandered the city, trying to learn his way around. "Am I crazy to think people have the power to be happy, and to make things better?" The thought kept repeating over and over in his mind, till finally he stopped. Realizing he was in the WestEnd he looked around at the dilapidated buildings. There was a lot that ran a entire block that was nothing but rubble, there had been a building there once, but no one had bothered to clean up the mess or to rebuild. Then in a bout of frustration, his own heart about to concede that the woman at the bar might be right, he kicked a charred piece of wooden beam. Suddenly it dawned on him. She was wrong, a realist isn't someone who grounds themselves in what is real. A realist is just someone who has embraced the apathy of not trying to make a difference. Jake smiled brightly, he would cling to his optimism, and his idealistic beliefs. He was not going to give up on himself that easily, nor this city. Across the street a old man watched Jake curiously. In his aged eyes wondered at the look of epiphany, and then hope that crossed the cowboys face. Rare were things such as that in the WestEnd. When the cowboy moved away the old man crossed the street curious to find what could cause such in that pile of rubble. He looked where he had seen Jake look, but there was only rubble, and charred ruined timbers. When he was about to give up the old man saw something peeking from behind the worthless rubble. A single piece of pristine wood, actually a section of the floor molding at one time it still stood where it had been intended, as if just placed a few days ago. The old man tilted his head from side to side, scratching his head in wonder at just how a old piece of trim work could possibly inspire such emotions as he had witnessed. The wood was silent now, they had already whispered their secret.

Jake Duncan

Date: 2007-11-02 09:10 EST
For the past few weeks he had been devoting himself almost entirely to the project he started in the WestEnd. He would wake long before dawn, and then head down to that same lot spending the entire morning cart by cart clearing the area of all of it's debris, and rubble. In the afternoons he would spend countless hours rummaging through every thing, looking for anything that could be salvaged to use later. Most days he never even saw home, as he worked till way after dark, and then would just crash either at a friends tea house, or in a chair or booth at the RDI.

Hope was a difficult to come by in the WestEnd, yet by the end of the second full week the sight of a cleaned up lot got some of the residents talking. They were used to the Scathians who came down here to help, but they just stomped around not actualy doing anything for the community. Whispers were starting about a single man actualy coming day after day to this part of town, and doing something. Just what he was doing or why wasn't know yet.

Jake looked around at the now almost clean lot, and nodded his head. The motion itself almost like congratulating himself for a job well done. The place did look alot better, but unless he got some help, his timeline would be ruined.