fell from the sky

Dmitriy Yuabov
Creative Writing
6/19/2007
“It fell out of the sky”(Final)

I was sitting by my chair staring at my computer, when I noticed through the side of my right eye, an object in the distance. It was small and dim at first, but after some time I began to notice that this object was getting bigger and brighter. I could not tell what this object was, and in reality it was still too far away to be distinguishable. I began to focus more on it, I pondered for a few minutes to try to figure out what this object might have meant. I saw that it was not losing its illumination, no, rather the intensity of the light was getting stronger and stronger, I concluded that it was approaching closer, it must have been something good so I continued to think about it. I started to distinguish small parts that I could see, but they still carried a greyish hue to them. None of these could have helped me determine what the object was. I knew that if I focused and applied my mind to these vague notions or characteristics I could distinguish what they were. I started to imagine what these things could manifest themselves into. Were they something concrete that I could lay hold of, or were they some type of gaseous substance that had no definite shapes. I sat and stared again into my computer, and it dawned on me, the object that I was obsessing over for so long was right in front of me, it was not something physical, and I could not lay hold of it. It was an abstract concept that was created in my mind, and only needed sometime for me to illuminate it from the vagueness into something as real and concrete as the ink on this sheet of paper. This abstract concept came from an unknown origin somewhere in that vast distance of space, which I call my mind.
It has now made a seat for itself inside my mind and it dictated my fingers to stroke the keyboard gently, so as not to disturb its train of thought with needless mistakes. The longer I can keep this concept inside my mind, the longer I can keep writing. I wrote for about a few hours without stopping, until I heard a loud “bang” behind me. One of the large textbooks fell, not surprising it was a calculus textbook, that sound made more of an impression on me than the entire class I took back in college. I knew that at that point, my mind was no longer centered around that one great idea, and who knows if it ever will be. I heard the loud steps coming up the stairs, the relative weight that was needed to produce that sound had to be higher than the usual suspects, particularly my children, I concluded that my wife was coming up the stairs carrying a plate of food.

“Sweetheart, come have some dinner, I made your favorite tonight”

“what did I tell, when I’m working, I can’t have anyone disturbing me”

“Oh, quit it with this anti-social behavior, its not healthy for you, you know Steve from the lab called, he’s worried about you”

“..................................”

“Oh, alright ill leave the food by the door, take it if your hungry, by the way don’t forget to tuck away the children tonight”

“...................................”

It’s not that I dislike people I just can’t be bothered by their needles and petty conversations. The absentminded halfwits only dull my brain from any significant thought. I enjoy the creativity of my own mind and I can, for the most part, amuse myself. Anyway, who has time when there trying to juggle so many things at once. I needed to finish my paper for my third doctoral degree, I have a few researches that I’m conducting, one that Stockholm is interested in, not to mention family life. Sometimes I sit and wonder how I do, than I realize that I wasted fifteen minutes, and have to rush back into my work to make up for the lost time.

(Knocks)

“Daddy, can I come inside”

This is the worst part of my day, trying to explain to a ten-year-old boy that his dad has to miss out on all his important events for a chance to do groundbreaking work that will probably save the lives of millions of people.

“Yeah Ben, you can come in”

“You know that there food on the floor, it looks like the dog ate it”

“What was that, daddies working, what are you doing still up, its two in the morning”

“Waiting for you to tuck me in”

“Oh, right, I forgot, well lets get you back to bed”

“No dad, I want to know what your working on”

“Well its not important what I’m working on, its only what this work will help do”

“You missed the game today dad”

“Did I, I’m sorry Ben, ill promise ill come to the next one”

“The seasons over, we won, there was a big party and all the other fathers were there”

“...........................”

“I’ll tuck myself in today!”

As the door slammed behind my sons back, I could not help but running after him and promising him that I was going to spend the best damn day with him tomorrow. But, I knew it would all be a lie. I didn’t have time to groom myself in the morning, the work just keeps piling on. I don’t know how long I can keep up like this, what’s worse is I don’t know how my family can keep up like this. I saw my wife hitting on the mailman, and its only a matter of time until my children will be calling the nice mailman “daddy”. Damn it, I wasted another fifteen minutes, time to get back to work.

Ten years have gone by with no change in Roberts attitude towards his work. Surprisingly, benjamin took a similar the path that his father has taken. This as a result, created a strong bond between Benjamin and Robert, they would both sit up late into the night and discuss various intellectual topics without anyone growing tired or relinquishing the possibility of defeat. Robert would never let his son have the last word in the conversation he would always add on. This stimulated his son to believe that, to be the best, one should never expect an easy challenge. The two truly were inseparable.


Dear, Dr. Simmil

As I sit here and write this letter to you, a man who you already are aware of, Robert G. Hemly, is sitting by his computer chair and contemplating the solution to one of the greatest problems of the twentieth century. When his mind begins to work it rarely, if ever stop unless there is some type of external disturbance. He prides himself for having the quietest house on the block, even though the majority of the family members resent the fact that they have to tippy toe, so as not to disturb the grinding gears of his brain. He is an odd character, he spends an awfully long time in study and rarely ever worries about his appearance. He gets a haircut perhaps two times a year, and only if the haircut serves some type of practical purpose, such as a social gathering of some sort, which is usually filled with similar anti-social workaholic, and the miserable people that have to live with them. Robert would drink a couple of cocktails and begin pouring his heart out about the latest scientific discovery. The majority of guests would only look back at him, with empathetic smiles and encourage him to keep up the good work. His social skills at these event would always be tested, and in reality he had none to test. He would always find a way to embarrass himself, his family, or some random noble prize winner, who would always write about him later on, as if he were some escaped mental patient, unhinged, and highly aggressive, this would of course draw even more attention to my father’s research. Yes, my father, the great Robert Hemly. I do not know if you remember me or not, we met a few times at Christmas parties and research gatherings, my name is Benjamin. I’m sorry for such a brief description of my father and I hope that it serves some type analytical function for you, I am dreadfully concerned about the mental state of my father and I would certainly appreciate you visiting us. I do apologize again, this being short notice and all, but my father has not come down in weeks, and I fear that the obsessions will not give way to the agonizing torment that he is facing.

Yours truly,

Benjamin Hemly


As I read the letter that Benjamin wrote to me, I can’t help but reminisce about Roberts and myself and our former days at college. He was a good guy and extremely dedicated, which was rarely seen for someone who came from absolutely nothing. His dad was a complaining alcoholic, who resented the fact that he, along with countless others, had to fight in the war. The mental strain the war took on him never subsided and as a result the entire family struggled in poverty. Robert, that old dog, he was always getting himself and me into trouble. I remember the mental anguish he caused many professors on campus. He would stay late into the night studying entire periods of history, just to put his teachers through his specially designed tests. He would sit and stare with those piercing eyes, melting away any academic resolve professor usually hid behind. He would quote lines from Shakespear, and other literary and scholarly figures of the top of his head. The professors would stare back at him with petrified looks on their faces, because they rarely ever had anything else to add to the conversations, then he would get up in front of class and begin to dictate the lessons himself. I was usually the one sent to the dean office as the undoubted accomplice to Roberts twisted sense of humor. He was a bright person and extremely clever, a boarder line genius. I opted out of doing the heavy duty research that he was into. I settled for psychology and opened up a private practice in New York City, now its time I pay my old friend a visit. “Cecil, can you get me a taxi, tell them I’m going to Princeton, New Jersey, and cancel my appointments for the rest of the week”