Jonathan Collier: Winner of BU Rampage Writing Contest
The Rampage hosted a writing contest, and Bluefield University freshman Jonathan Collier took the cake with his short story “And Behold.”
“I’ve always loved writing,” Collier said about why he decided to enter the contest, “so when I heard about this contest I was immediately interested in it.”
Collier said he originally wrote his winning entry, “And Behold,” for an assignment in “Introduction to Creative Writing,” which he is taking this semester. It’s a short story, he said, that presents death in an interesting way.
“Many stories, poems, TV shows, and movies have personified Death in different ways, but I wanted to use that idea in a way that is unique to my story that made him a character with goals and designs, not just an abstract or malevolent entity,” Collier said. “The main message I wanted my story to have was one of finding peace in life, especially peace through a relationship with God, and being able to look at life without regrets.”
Below is Collier’s winning short story. In addition to being published online, Collier’s winning piece will be published in a Rampage print magazine this fall. He also will receive a free BU sweatshirt courtesy of The Rampage.
And Behold by Jonathan Collier
“Who is it?” shouted Roger as he heard a car pull up the driveway to his isolated cabin.
Outside was a 1975 Mustang coated in an eerie pale white paint. “She’s a beaut, buddy; now, what can I do for you?” said Roger as he approached the car in an effort to be friendly.
“Roger Brolin, it has been many years since we’ve last met. I did not want to see you again, at least in my professional capacity.” Out of the vehicle stepped a man in a tailored black suit with a charcoal gray tie and pocket square. His hair was entirely gray but still meticulously kept.
“Yes, it certainly has been a while, I believe it was Vietnam, in that POW camp, wasn’t it? Or maybe it was in the hospital with my granddaughter. I’m old, I can’t remember, but I did know you would come out here eventually. So, how are we going to do this? I expected a lot more drama, at least a creepy scythe or something.”
“Roger, can we talk on the porch?” Uttered his visitor in a serious tone.
Roger sat peacefully on one of his porch chairs while the stranger retrieved a pitcher of lemonade from inside and poured them each a glass.”Now, we both know why I’m here, I assume,” Roger responded with a nod, and the stranger resumed.”You seem calm; this is not a minor event for you; it is quite permanent.”
“I understand that, but, friend, I’ve been watching you work since I was a kid. Over there in Vietnam, over here, back in Charleston, no matter where I go, I know you’ll show that ugly face of yours again soon, but you know what? I survived the camp. I survived the riots. I survived a pandemic. I watched my children grow up and get married. I got to see my grandchildren smile. I got to retire and spend the past decade with the people I love. Most of them are gone now, but I had a good life. So, I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m not rushing into anything; I’m not making any decision lightly; I’ve got nothing to regret that I missed out on.” Roger emptied his glass of lemonade and placed it firmly on a stump he had fashioned into a porch table.
“You are aware there are workarounds, aren’t you, Roger? If you signed up for the radiation and the surgery, I could spare you long enough for them to kick in and shrink the tumor in your brain down so it stops damaging your brain. You would have an extra five years, perhaps more.”
“Well,” said Roger with a chuckle, “I never expected Death to try and haggle with me. I do appreciate the effort, but I’ll tell you like I told all the doctors. I’ve had a good run, a real good go at life; I’m not gonna take any deals to try and get out of it. I’m happy, I’m content, and I know where I’m going. Why do you care so much anyway? You didn’t care about James, Billy, or the Strauman twins, or Myrtle, or little Kenzie. Why do you care now?”
“We always had a special relationship, Roger Brolin. In the Vietnamese POW camp, most of the prisoners saw a glimpse of me and panicked, even when I was not there for them. “You, though, you caught sight of me and found peace in it. You did not rush my work, but you knew that, for some of the boys there, I was the sweetest freedom they could ever have. Some see me as a demon, others as a god, but you saw me for what I am: an inevitable, unchangeable constant of this world. I want, no, I need, people who understand that here; that’s why I want you to stay a while longer, to help those who are still here who fear me.” Despite his stoic and empty expression, Death almost looked sad as he finished speaking.
“I’m not staying, Death; this understanding I have of you, that’s exactly why I’m not scared of you. That’s what you don’t see; the kind of people you want to stay on earth are the ones most ready to leave it.”
“I understand. Roger Brolin, please step this way.” Death led Roger to his muscle car, and as the engine started, Roger’s surroundings became foggy and blurred, and then they were gone.