No matter what anyone says I do NOT own of mice and men. John Steinbeck owns it not me. I was "inspired" to write this by my English teacher. (Meaning it was an assignment I decided to put up here.)
So if you don't like it that's your fault for reading it. Please tell me what you think of it.
The sun streams down through the holes in the barn, giving as much light as it can in streaks here and there. Under one of the larger streaks, a body lies, as though the person were asleep. Upon closer inspection, I find a girl, and not just any girl, that boxing boy's girl, the one that had eyes for every fella on the farm. She seems peaceful now. Without all the anger and flirtatiousness she looks like a more caring person. Her make-up is still overly done, but the peaceful look on her face makes her seem content. I look down at her with mournful eyes. She had so much to live for, so much she could have done, but now she will never get the chance to fulfill those dreams. Her spirit more than likely went straight to the nearest salon or brothel, attempting to get the fame in death she could not in life, even if it was not the fame she wanted.
After further examination I find her neck cracked, like the person who did was trying to give her a quick death. I heard a noise coming from the front of the barn so I turned to see who was walking in. A man was calling for someone named Lennie, walking all through the barn till he got to the section with the girl. He starts to talk to the girl's body, apparently thinking she is just caught in a slumber. He froze, realizing what had happened to her, and ran out of the barn, to gather the other men I presume. Taking on last look at the body I turn to leave but stop mid-way because of the girl. She stood near the door, looking out at a horse shoe game, as the older gentleman came back in with a skinny fella, planning on what to do with the body. Watching the men as they left, the girl slowly turns to look at me, showing a sad smile on her otherwise peaceful face.
"I ain't ever been happy in life." She says disappointedly, "Everyone kept gettin' in my way when I wanted to do somethin'. I coulda made somethin' of myself ya know." All the men came running into the barn, looking for the body and the killer. The girl and I sat watching them, waiting to what is going to happen. The men ran back out the barn after agreeing to hunt down the lug that killed the boxer's wife.
Turning back to the girl to hear the rest of her speech I realized she did not seem that sad. She spoke, watching the men run towards the woods "I'm happy now. I don't got to be alone no more and I can talk to whoever I want now. I can talk to you, right?"
I find her quizzical face amusing. While holding back my laughter I say politely, "Yes you can talk to me. Not many spirits come by here anymore and the ones that were here left a long time ago. The company would be a welcome change."
She returns the smile, continuing to talk about her life while she was alive. "I never did like my husband no way. He was always tryin' to keep me inside and away from people. I should've gone with that show when I had the chance. I coulda made something of myself, too. I woulda been in the pictures, I'd have been famous. Everyone woulda known my name and id still have been alive." She made to glance at her body, making me feel as though there is still more to come. "I coulda made something of my elf." She says sadly, "at least when I was alive I coulda. Now no one will ever know what I could do."
"Hunny," I say to her, "We all coulda made somethin of ourselves at one point in time. That don't mean we all got the chance to do it though."
She looks up and smiles, saying "Thank you for listenin to me ma'am. I hope we can talk again soon."
"It was no trouble at all. You know where ta find me when you need to talk. I say as she fades away. I look out towards the land looking for the men. The only one I find is the one-handed swamper, I figure everyone else is looking for the big fella. I reach to pick up the puppy that died earlier, when a gunshot goes off in the woods. Sighing, I look down at the small dog in my arms.
"My job's just never done is it?" I ask before slowly fading into the background.
