One has good fortune if in earnest s/he catches refreshment from the font of imagination now and again issuing forth from dream-like states that insist, "Hey this is pretty good. Record and develop it."
This appears to be that from August 2010. Did I write this? if so, why did I abandon it? Seems promising now, including some of the wording. Evocative I would say, and with enough story paths to take with any of the characters named. It is a document called Danny.
Or did I copy it from somewhere and thus not really creative. I don't think so. I had to go through and correct typo-mistakes, signaling to me that I must have been writing and stopped.
If I am in error, enlighten me.
George, Danny's father, was the culprit, but no one except him knew that, although he has long since passed, and not that he had the intelligence of what he did when he left Danny there. Danny became a foundling, and George made him so by setting him as a babe of ten days in that bush on the dogcart road between upper Sesson and Sesson proper on an early October morning. Once he assured himself that Danny was wrapped tightly against the cool morning air, George plodded off without so much as a kiss or wave good-bye. He disappeared like the morning dew, and no one saw him again, and we don't know what became of him.
George was indeed a plodding sort. A bit slow, some thought. Stubborn, his brother later said, and sufficiently alienated from his young wife and neighbors as to be almost invisible. No one missed him except Mary, at first, that is, for he was her lifeline to the world outside the house. She was a shut-in, as the locals described her. For her it was dread of the world and all she knew about it, which wasn't much.
We can think of George as having made a decision and carrying out his own disappearance and effectively Danny's and leaving others to sort out any complications. But as things were, the complications were few, the consequences great if measure we could.
Just after the disappearances, people in upper Sesson talked, which means they created plausible causes, conjectures really: that George stole Danny and left for another woman and mother; that he killed himself and the boy out of idiocy and desperation, life not being very interesting or tolerable with a wife like Mary; that George's relatives came and whisked him and the boy away deeming the life of a shut-in was contagious and that would be no way for the boys to live out their days. Other stories arose and fell with the wavering interest in things unexplained, but as with other events not fed by a few facts or creative gossip, the disappearance of son and father soon ceased to take up the time of the village gossips; and life returned to near normal, that is to the rhythm of uneventful lives being carried out by rote and resignation.
And why didn't upper Sesson folks take notice when Lara and Johan in Sesson proper began showing off their newborn son? In short, the Sesson's intelligentsia didn't talk, and Lara's claim of hardly showing during her pregnancy, plus Kathy, the midwife's verification of "a spotless delivery" where she did little more than counsel and advise the new parents of what to do in the first days after birth, well, there seemed to be little to notice, less to talk about. The proud parents went from childless to a threesome in a flash and each counted as blessing and a miracle that Danny, now Fitch, had figured in what God had intended by the holy sacrament of matrimony.
His Mother
Mary was always a kind and quiet girl, and when she married the village dolt, few, except her parents, commented. Comment. Seems too benign a word. Mary's parents accepted their daughter's choice of saving and educating her husband, but they never shut up about how stupid it was. It was a comment never far from the nicety of greeting that forever s
Sally was simple.
Mary
