Hi guys. Please don't be brutal. This is my first attempt at a TWW piece
and I just bashed it out in a spare half hour at work. Didn't realise quite
how difficult it would be to write a TWW piece. Phew.
Spoilers: General Season 2
This is set at the end of Season 2 and it's a little soliloquy for Sam, after he has been told about the President's condition, etc.
Darn! Forgot the disclaimer on first post. If I had half a brain I'd be dangerous! Disclaimer: unfortunately neither the show nor any of its characters belong to me, I'm just borrowing them!
P.S. thanks for the review, its so encouraging. Constructive feedback is always welcome.
Anyway, here goes:
* * * * *
Words, Words, Words
Work. Must work. Need to work.
If I have no work I'm afraid that my head will come crashing down with a mighty thump onto my desk.
It is gone midnight and I'm still here in my office. Toby's still next door, he's on the phone. It doesn't look like either of us will get out of here any time soon.
It's all a game, politics. Yesterday the game was called 'sorting through the pieces', today the game is called 'damage limitation'. I dread to think what tomorrow's game will be called.
My eyes have been staring at the screen of my laptop for hours. What does one say when given a job like this: Sorry people. No need to worry. I just hid a couple of minor details from you. No need to be concerned. I didn't lie, I simply omitted. Your Commander in Chief, who has access to the most powerful nuclear armoury the world over has MS. Don't panic though, it's relapsing/remitting. That means that a full recovery should be possible. Should!
How do you put it into words?
Toby's off the phone now. Sounds like he's having the same trouble as me. I heard him tear a page of his pad and screw it up. More trash. But hey, that's the game.
I guess I'm mad. I've not had time to think. Not to think properly. I was told. I reacted in a manner that I know was entirely inappropriate. I was mad then. I'm a different mad now.
Only someone you trust can betray you.
Never was a truer word spoken.
My father.
The president.
Josh.
They all hid things from me. Things I could have helped with. Things I could have tried to help with at any rate.
There's also the saying no good deed goes unpunished.
Cliché has its place and right now that seems to be within the confines of the White House.
All the good this administration has done, is doing, could do. All of its threatened. It could all just disappear like a stain of breath upon a mirror.
My head's buzzing. There are so many things.
I'm as bad as them I guess. I don't talk either. Toby said that he would wait for me in his office. I didn't talk to him. I couldn't. He didn't know how I was feeling. Not that I gave him the chance.
No. I'm happier here alone. I can rely on myself, I know that. That seems to be the one surety remaining.
I am Sam Seaborn. I am invulnerable. At least, that's what I let everybody think.
It hurt when Josh didn't tell me how he was feeling after he was shot.
It hurt that my father kept secrets from me for nearly 30 years.
It hurt that the President didn't trust us. No. not us. Me.
All of this could so easily have been expressed to me. Just a few simple words. Now it's me who is having trouble finding the words. None seem sufficient.
I understand how hard it can be to find the words sometimes. Perhaps then, it is not just the people that are deceivers, but the words too.
Hey, I should know all about that. I make my living creating another man's words. A great man. A man who is unable to express himself.
All the words that have been spoken to me in the past few weeks are now swimming round my head. Toby must be the same. I can hear the Thud, Thud of his ball as he throws it against the partition between our two offices. I find it soothing.
The noise lulls me into putting my head down.
I shut my eyes. All is black.
The only thing left now are the words in my head. The power of words. Words make you feel things. They bring you joy, excitement, happiness. Pain. Aching pain.
As the words flood through my brain I try and slow them down. I give them up, for now at least. I push my lap top away.
No more words. Not today.
Tomorrow's another story. We have an election to win!
Spoilers: General Season 2
This is set at the end of Season 2 and it's a little soliloquy for Sam, after he has been told about the President's condition, etc.
Darn! Forgot the disclaimer on first post. If I had half a brain I'd be dangerous! Disclaimer: unfortunately neither the show nor any of its characters belong to me, I'm just borrowing them!
P.S. thanks for the review, its so encouraging. Constructive feedback is always welcome.
Anyway, here goes:
* * * * *
Words, Words, Words
Work. Must work. Need to work.
If I have no work I'm afraid that my head will come crashing down with a mighty thump onto my desk.
It is gone midnight and I'm still here in my office. Toby's still next door, he's on the phone. It doesn't look like either of us will get out of here any time soon.
It's all a game, politics. Yesterday the game was called 'sorting through the pieces', today the game is called 'damage limitation'. I dread to think what tomorrow's game will be called.
My eyes have been staring at the screen of my laptop for hours. What does one say when given a job like this: Sorry people. No need to worry. I just hid a couple of minor details from you. No need to be concerned. I didn't lie, I simply omitted. Your Commander in Chief, who has access to the most powerful nuclear armoury the world over has MS. Don't panic though, it's relapsing/remitting. That means that a full recovery should be possible. Should!
How do you put it into words?
Toby's off the phone now. Sounds like he's having the same trouble as me. I heard him tear a page of his pad and screw it up. More trash. But hey, that's the game.
I guess I'm mad. I've not had time to think. Not to think properly. I was told. I reacted in a manner that I know was entirely inappropriate. I was mad then. I'm a different mad now.
Only someone you trust can betray you.
Never was a truer word spoken.
My father.
The president.
Josh.
They all hid things from me. Things I could have helped with. Things I could have tried to help with at any rate.
There's also the saying no good deed goes unpunished.
Cliché has its place and right now that seems to be within the confines of the White House.
All the good this administration has done, is doing, could do. All of its threatened. It could all just disappear like a stain of breath upon a mirror.
My head's buzzing. There are so many things.
I'm as bad as them I guess. I don't talk either. Toby said that he would wait for me in his office. I didn't talk to him. I couldn't. He didn't know how I was feeling. Not that I gave him the chance.
No. I'm happier here alone. I can rely on myself, I know that. That seems to be the one surety remaining.
I am Sam Seaborn. I am invulnerable. At least, that's what I let everybody think.
It hurt when Josh didn't tell me how he was feeling after he was shot.
It hurt that my father kept secrets from me for nearly 30 years.
It hurt that the President didn't trust us. No. not us. Me.
All of this could so easily have been expressed to me. Just a few simple words. Now it's me who is having trouble finding the words. None seem sufficient.
I understand how hard it can be to find the words sometimes. Perhaps then, it is not just the people that are deceivers, but the words too.
Hey, I should know all about that. I make my living creating another man's words. A great man. A man who is unable to express himself.
All the words that have been spoken to me in the past few weeks are now swimming round my head. Toby must be the same. I can hear the Thud, Thud of his ball as he throws it against the partition between our two offices. I find it soothing.
The noise lulls me into putting my head down.
I shut my eyes. All is black.
The only thing left now are the words in my head. The power of words. Words make you feel things. They bring you joy, excitement, happiness. Pain. Aching pain.
As the words flood through my brain I try and slow them down. I give them up, for now at least. I push my lap top away.
No more words. Not today.
Tomorrow's another story. We have an election to win!