# chasing nothing



## jtgrall (Dec 21, 2015)

I wish that I could have felt something when my brother had died. Sadness, a happy memory, hatred, anything at all. I just sat there empty as people came up to me to tell me how sorry they were, and how much my brother had meant to them. After an hour past I got up and went outside, I just couldn’t spend another second of this day listening to people talk about my brother who I never really knew. I walked down the street in my black dress, and turned the corner of the block towards the grass field just down the road. I searched my self trying to think of any memory I had about my brother, but all I could think about were trips going snow boarding where he would run off on his own, or times when he was in high school and he would run off with his friends during the weekend. Who could blame him, I was ten years younger than him. We had nothing in common. He moved away to college when I was eight and I hadn’t seen him other than a few holiday's since. I remember when I was a freshman in high school, the first class I ever had, mr. Shultz was calling attendance, When he got to my name he paused for a second, “Fitzgerald, Carla Fitzgerald? You aren’t related to Jared Fitzgerald are you?” he asked me. I just nodded my head. “Hah, Now isn’t that something!” he roared out to the class and kept reading roll. I’ll never forget that smile that Mr. Shultz had as he read my name for the first time, or several of my other teachers over the next two years who all seemed to love my brother. I think of the times going to the grocery store with my mother, and running into my brothers old class mates, and they always seemed excited to know about how he was doing. It had always seemed to me that everyone knew part of my brother that I never got to know. 
	After laying in the grass field for an hour I figured that the crowed at our house had probably died down, and it was safe to go home. When I got home, There was dinner at the table and my parents had already started eating. I could tell by there faces that my brothers death had been hard on them. Over the last two weeks it seems as if they both had aged by a decade. I could tell that they were trying hard to keep themselves from falling apart whenever I came into the room. I picked up the box of Chinese takeout and poured some kung pow chicken on my plate that had been placed out for me. We all sat and ate in silence, after I finished another two helpings of food my mother asked if I could go with her to pick up my brothers belongings from the apartment that he lived in with his two roommates. I told her I would, and excused myself from the table to go to my room. 
	I woke up the next morning having not slept very well at all. The thought of going to my dead brothers apartment was overwhelming to me. I didn’t even bother getting dressed the next day, I just left the house in my sweat pants, and a jacket, as we started our journey up state to officially put these last few weeks to rest. 
	The trip didn’t take long, maybe a little over an hour. When we got to the apartment there was a note on the door. It said the door was unlocked, and we were free to help ourselves to any thing in the refrigerator. We walked inside, the apartment was neat as far as a couple of people in their early twenties were concerned. We went straight for Jared’s room. There wasn’t much there as I had predicted, not even enough things to give me insight on who my brother was. There was a bed, dresser, writing desk with a computer and a lamp, and a few posters on the wall of his favorite sports teams. My mom went back to the car to get a couple of boxes to put his belongings in. When she went back to the car, I started rummaging through his things trying to find anything that would show me why my brother seemed so important to everyone that he met. There was nothing in his closet excepts for clothes and a few old school books, nothing under his bed, then I looked through his desk, There were a few school note books, and writing supplies. Nothing interesting at all, then I pulled out a note book that seemed worn down. All the other note books had been identical and had a name of a class on it. This one was blank, and too small to be able to write school notes in. I opened it up, on the first page it said journal. This was exactly the type of thing I had been looking for. I started to go through the pages to see all of my brothers thoughts, but after I got through five or six pages the book was empty. I was furious, I knew that this was my only chance to get to know my brother and it turned out to be nothing. I through the book at the wall as hard as I could, all the years that I wished my brother had been there for me and wasn’t. 
	There was a loud thud as the book it the wall, and then the wooden floor. As the book lay open I noticed a small folded piece of paper laying on the empty page of the book. I picked up the paper and started to unfold it, “Things to do before I die” said the headline. I started to look through the list of maybe twenty items, some where small funny things like howl at the full moon at night, some sounded like grand adventures like seen the northern lights, a few had even been crossed off already, like the trip to Europe my brother went on where he lost his life in the car accident. As I read the list I felt a part of my brother that seemed to be left on that wrinkled paper. I got to the bottom of the list and there were things that my brother hoped to do when he got older, find a job, get married, have a kid/kids, and the very last one said get old. I froze there was something that wasn’t right about this list, there was already a line through have a kid. Then I heard my mother come in through the door, I folded the paper back up and hid it in my jacket pocket. “did Jared have a girlfriend?” I asked my mom without hesitation. “not, that I know of, Why do you ask?” she replied. “no reason, doesn’t surprise me with a room like this.” I quickly joked, and mom gave me a little laugh. We packed most of the boxes with clothes that we were going to donate to the thrift store. We took the computer, and left the desk for Jared’s roommates, last we took Jared’s bed down to the dumpster.
	The whole ride home I couldn’t stop thinking about my brothers list, what was I going to do with it, and did my brother really have a kid or was that some kind of mistake.


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## Hairball (Jan 4, 2016)

Wow...that was powerful, dear. WOW.

Now this work of art is definitely full of potential. I would say there are a few errors, and the paragraphs need to be separated; it runs together and is hard to read.

I corrected some of the text while trying to keep the impact intact. Mostly just grammar, spelling and punctuation. Great job on such a sensitive, private subject! I love it.

I wish that I could have felt something when my brother had died. Sadness, a happy memory, hatred, anything at all. I just sat there empty as people came up to me to tell me how sorry they were, and how much my brother had meant to them. After an hour passed I got up and went outside. I just couldn’t spend another second of this day listening to people talk about my brother, whom I never really knew. 

I walked down the street in my black dress, and turned the corner of the block toward the grassy field just down the road. I searched myself trying to think of any memory I had about my brother, but all I could think about were snow boarding trips where he would run off on his own, or times when he was in high school and he would run off with his friends during the weekend. Who could blame him? I was ten years younger than he. We had nothing in common. He moved away to college when I was eight and I hadn’t seen him much, other than on a few holidays since.

 I remember when I was a high school freshman in the first class I ever had, Mr. Shultz was calling attendance. When he got to my name he paused for a second. “Fitzgerald, Carla Fitzgerald? You aren’t related to Jared Fitzgerald are you?” he asked me.

 I just nodded my head.

 “Hah, Now isn’t that something!” he roared out to the class and kept reading roll. I’ll never forget that smile Mr. Shultz had as he read my name for the first time, or that of several other teachers over the next two years who all seemed to love my brother. 

I thought of the times going to the grocery store with my mother, and running into my brother's old classmates. They always seemed excited to know about how he was doing. It had always seemed to me that everyone knew a part of my brother that I never got to know. 

After lying in the grassy field for an hour I figured that the crowd at our house had probably died down, and it was safe to go home. When I got home, there was dinner at the table and my parents had already started eating. I could tell by their faces that my brother's death had been hard on them. Over the last two weeks, it seems as if they both had aged by a decade. I could tell that they were trying hard to keep themselves from falling apart whenever I came into the room. I picked up the box of Chinese takeout and poured some kung pow chicken on my plate which had been placed out for me. We all sat and ate in silence. After I finished another two helpings of food, my mother asked if I could go with her to pick up my brother's belongings from the apartment which he had shared with his two roommates. I told her I would, and excused myself from the table to go to my room. 

I woke up the next morning after having not slept very well at all. The thought of going to my dead brother's apartment was overwhelming to me. I didn’t even bother getting dressed that day; I just left the house in my sweat pants and a jacket, and we started our journey up state to officially put these last few weeks to rest. 

The trip didn’t take long, maybe a little over an hour. When we got to the apartment there was a note on the door. It said the door was unlocked, and we were free to help ourselves to any thing in the refrigerator. We walked inside, and the apartment was neat as far as a couple of people in their early twenties were concerned.

 We went straight for Jared’s room. There wasn’t much there as I had predicted, not even enough things to give me any insight into who my brother was. There was a bed, a dresser, a writing desk with a computer and a lamp, and a few posters on the wall of his favorite sports teams. My mom went back to the car to get a couple of boxes to put his belongings in. When she went back to the car, I started rummaging through his things trying to find anything that would show me why my brother seemed so important to everyone he met.

 There was nothing in his closet except for clothes and a few old school books; nothing under his bed, so then I looked through his desk. There were a few school notebooks and writing supplies. Nothing interesting at all, but then I pulled out a notebook that seemed worn. All the other notebooks had been identical and had a name of a class on it. This one was blank, and too small to be able to write school notes in. 

I opened it up, and on the first page was written, "Journal". This was exactly the type of thing I had been looking for. I started to go through the pages to see all of my brother's thoughts, but after I got through five or six pages, the book was empty. 

I was furious! I knew that this was my only chance to get to know my brother and it turned out to be nothing. I threw the book at the wall as hard as I could. For all the years that I wished my brother had been there for me...he wasn’t. 

There was a loud thud as the book hit the wall, and then fell on the wooden floor. As the book opened, I noticed a small folded piece of paper lying on the empty page of the book. I picked up the paper and started to unfold it. 

“Things to do before I die,” read the headline. I started to look through the list of maybe twenty items; some were small funny things like howling at the full moon at night. Some sounded like grand adventures like seeing the Northern Lights; a few had even been crossed off already; like the trip to Europe my brother went on where he lost his life in the car accident. As I read the list I felt a part of my brother that seemed to be left on that wrinkled paper. I got to the bottom of the list and there were things that my brother hoped to do when he got older: Find a job, get married, have a kid/kids, and the very last one said get old. 

I froze. There was something that wasn’t right about this list; there was already a line through 'have a kid.' Then I heard my mother come in through the door. I folded the paper back up and hid it in my jacket pocket.

 “Did Jared have a girlfriend?” I asked my mom without hesitation. 

“Not that I know of. Why do you ask?” she replied.

 “No reason, doesn’t surprise me with a room like this,” I quickly joked, and Mom gave me a little laugh. We packed most of the boxes with clothes that we were going to donate to the thrift store. We took the computer, and left the desk for Jared’s roommates. Then we took Jared’s bed down to the dumpster.

During the whole ride home I couldn’t stop thinking about my brother's list. What would I do with it? Did my brother really have a kid or was that some kind of mistake?


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## Blade (Jan 4, 2016)

Hmmm. Someone beat me to it.:jaded: Anyhow here is my opinion.:cookie: The paragraphs definitely have to be broken up a bit so just re-started them where I saw fit. There are a few punctuation problems but otherwise all is well.:eagerness:
Chasing Nothing​
I wish that I could have felt something when my brother had died, sadness, a happy memory, hatred, anything at all. I just sat there empty as people came up to me to tell me how sorry they were, and how much my brother had meant to them. After an hour past I got up and went outside, I just couldn’t spend another second of this day listening to people talk about my brother who I never really knew. 

I walked down the street in my black dress, and turned the corner of the block towards the grass field just down the road. I searched my self trying to think of any memory I had about my brother, but all I could think about were trips going snowboarding where he would run off on his own, or times when he was in high school and he would run off with his friends during the weekend. Who could blame him? I was ten years younger than him. 

We had nothing in common. He moved away to college when I was eight and I hadn’t seen him other than a few holidays since. I remember when I was a freshman in high school, the first class I ever had, Mr. Shultz was calling attendance, when he got to my name he paused for a second, “Fitzgerald, Carla Fitzgerald? You aren’t related to Jared Fitzgerald are you?” he asked me. I just nodded my head. “Hah, Now isn’t that something!” he roared out to the class and kept reading roll. I’ll never forget that smile that Mr. Shultz had as he read my name for the first time, or several of my other teachers over the next two years who all seemed to love my brother. I think of the times going to the grocery store with my mother, and running into my brothers old class mates, and they always seemed excited to know about how he was doing. It had always seemed to me that everyone knew part of my brother that I never got to know. 


After lying in the grass field for an hour I figured that the crowed at our house had probably died down, and it was safe to go home. When I got home, there was dinner at the table and my parents had already started eating. I could tell by their faces that my brother’s death had been hard on them. Over the last two weeks it seems as if they both had aged by a decade. I could tell that they were trying hard to keep themselves from falling apart whenever I came into the room. I picked up the box of Chinese takeout and poured some Kung pow chicken on my plate that had been placed out for me. We all sat and ate in silence, after I finished another two helpings of food my mother asked if I could go with her to pick up my brothers belongings from the apartment that he lived in with his two roommates. I told her I would, and excused myself from the table to go to my room. 

I woke up the next morning having not slept very well at all. The thought of going to my dead brother’s apartment was overwhelming to me. I didn’t even bother getting dressed the next day, I just left the house in my sweat pants, and a jacket, as we started our journey up state to officially put these last few weeks to rest. 


The trip didn’t take long, maybe a little over an hour. When we got to the apartment there was a note on the door. It said the door was unlocked, and we were free to help ourselves to anything in the refrigerator. We walked inside; the apartment was neat as far as a couple of people in their early twenties were concerned. We went straight for Jared’s room. 

There wasn’t much there as I had predicted, not even enough things to give me insight on who my brother was. There was a bed, dresser, writing desk with a computer and a lamp, and a few posters on the wall of his favorite sports teams. My mom went back to the car to get a couple of boxes to put his belongings in. When she went back to the car, I started rummaging through his things trying to find anything that would show me why my brother seemed so important to everyone that he met. There was nothing in his closet except for clothes and a few old school books, nothing under his bed, then I looked through his desk, there were a few school note books, and writing supplies. Nothing interesting at all, then I pulled out a note book that seemed worn down. All the other note books had been identical and had a name of a class on it. This one was blank, and too small to be able to write school notes in. I opened it up, on the first page it said journal. 

This was exactly the type of thing I had been looking for. I started to go through the pages to see all of my brother’s thoughts, but after I got through five or six pages the book was empty. I was furious, I knew that this was my only chance to get to know my brother and it turned out to be nothing. I through the book at the wall as hard as I could, all the years that I wished my brother had been there for me and wasn’t. 


There was a loud thud as the book it the wall, and then the wooden floor. As the book lay open I noticed a small folded piece of paper lying on the empty page of the book. I picked up the paper and started to unfold it, “Things to do before I die” said the headline. I started to look through the list of maybe twenty items, somewhere small funny things like howl at the full moon at night, some sounded like grand adventures like seen the northern lights, a few had even been crossed off already, like the trip to Europe my brother went on where he lost his life in the car accident. 


As I read the list I felt a part of my brother that seemed to be left on that wrinkled paper. I got to the bottom of the list and there were things that my brother hoped to do when he got older, find a job, get married, have a kid/kids, and the very last one said get old. I froze there was something that wasn’t right about this list, there was already a line through have a kid. Then I heard my mother come in through the door, I folded the paper back up and hid it in my jacket pocket. 

“Did Jared have a girlfriend?” I asked my mom without hesitation. “Not, that I know of, Why do you ask?” she replied. “No reason, doesn’t surprise me with a room like this.” I quickly joked, and mom gave me a little laugh. We packed most of the boxes with clothes that we were going to donate to the thrift store. We took the computer, and left the desk for Jared’s roommates, last we took Jared’s bed down to the dumpster.


The whole ride home I couldn't stop thinking about my brothers list, what was I going to do with it, and did my brother really have a kid or was that some kind of mistake.


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## Radrook (Feb 26, 2016)

That is a very powerful story!
The intense emotions which the situation demands are conveyed very convincingly. 

Thanks for sharing!


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