This week I was really excited to see that one of Hemmingway’s short stories was on the list of options we had to read. I had read a lot of his short stories my senior year of high school. I really didn’t appreciate them then but more and more lately I’ve been wondering if I just wasn’t old enough yet to appreciate them. In reading “The Killers” I definitely enjoyed Hemmingway’s style a lot more than I did in high school. However, the way he does the dialogue still confuses me some, especially with the limited characterization. I chose this story for my alternative ending writing assignment.

My ending begins (ha) just after Max and Al walk out of the diner.

They walk around to the back of the building and listen in on Nick, Sam, and George’s conversation. Max and Al looked to each other when they heard their plan to warn Ole Anderson. Just as Max started to open his mouth to speak, Al smacked his jaw shut. He grabbed Max’s arm and they took off to follow Nick. They watched in silence as Nick entered the house.
“How much longer is the bright boy going to take?” Max said, teeth gritted.
“He’ll take his time just as is to be expected.” Al said.
“But-”
“Quiet! There he is.”
Nick said goodnight to the landlady and walked outside. As he stood on the front yard, he choked up slightly. Then angrily ran off, frustrated by Ole Anderson’s complete apathy.
Max and Al slowly walked to the door. They greet the landlady and stated they were old friends of Ole Anderson. They solemnly walked upstairs to where Ole Anderson lay.
“Good evening, Ole Anderson.” Max said quietly.
“It’s about time you showed up. You two scared poor Nick half to death.” said Ole Anderson.
“How bad has it gotten?” Al inquired.
“Could always be worse.” said Ole Anderson, “Did you bring it?”
“Yes,” said Al, as he held out a filled syringe.
“Just get it over with.”

Original assignment here

We went a little way, and then she stopped. “Frank, I feel funny inside.”

“Here, hold on to me.”

“Oh, Frank. Maybe I strained myself, just then. Trying to keep my head up. So I wouldn’t gulp down the salt water.”

“Take it easy.”

“Wouldn’t that be awful? I’ve heard of women that had a miscarriage. From straining theirself.”

She lay there, and I towed her by the shoulder strap of her bathing suit. I began to give out. I could

have towed her a mile, but I kept thinking I had to get her to a hospital, and I hurried. When you hurry in

the water you’re sunk. I got bottom, though, after a while, and then I took her in my arms and rushed her

through the surf. “Don’t move. Let me do it.”

“Okay.”

That was the hollowest “okay” I had ever heard.

I ran up to the place where our sweaters were and got the car key out of mine. I ran back down to where she was sitting and wrapped both of them around her unresponsive frame.

“Frank. I’m bleeding”

I looked down, and sure as anything there was a small puddle of blood where she sat.

We drove silently all the way to the hospital. I thought I could see Cora crying, but she didn’t let anything on. It wasn’t until we got there that she said a word.

“My name is Cora Chambers, I’m pregnant and bleeding”

“Has the bleeding stopped?”

“No.”

“Alright, I’ll call the doctor to be right with you. Have a seat, try not to move.”

We sat down after the doctor said the kid died, and Cora looked at me like she’d seen war.

“This is what we deserved, Frank.”

“Now don’t say that, don’t you dare.”

“But it’s true. We took a life, so the universe took one back.”

I couldn’t reply- I knew she was right. Besides, there was too much silence that day already.

“I think you should go now, Frank.”

“What? Cora, I love you. I was going to stay and work the diner, that’s how much I love you.”

“You should go hunt for pumas with that girl. After all, you’re a dirty tomcat and she’s a real hell cat, you’ll get on fine.”

“Cora-“

“Go. I don’t want to see you. You’re no good, Frank.”

She was right.

I thought that the ending to Postman was ridiculous and completely unbelievable. The laws of that universe simply vanished and everyone got their “divine retribution”. I wanted Frank and Cora to suffer in a way that would make sense. In this ending, they both remain alive, but even more miserable than when they started. They have money, Cora has the diner, they got married, everything should have worked itself out- but it didn’t because life isn’t fair. Things can’t go back to normal anymore, and Frank and Cora’s relationship has felt its greatest quake.

I blended some of the original text into this ending, in order to have a cleaner transition between canon and alternate. I used notepad to type everything together, because it was short enough that I wouldn’t have to deal with the hassle of Pages updating every time I opened  it.

Have a screenshot

I thought that over a long time. Because that was just what I had been doing. Lying there beside her,

just straining to think of a way I could kill her.

“All right, then. I was.”

“I knew it.”

“Were you any better? Weren’t you going to hand me over to Sackett? Wasn’t that the same thing?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’re even. Even again. Right back where we started.”

Just then Cora leaped up from the bed and dashed toward the phone. I was right behind her and managed to grab her right before she picked up the phone. I glared at her and exclaimed “I thought this was behind us!”

“You were going to run off with another woman to go catch cats! How am I supposed to put that behind us!”

She wiggled out of my grip and made a speedy dash downstairs for the other phone. I ran after her but was too late, she was already on the phone. She frantically spit out the story as fast as she could. A cold wave of fear came over me, I knew it was over. At that moment I lost control and shear anger took over, I couldn’t understand why she would betray me like that. I grabbed a pot out of the sink and with one hit to her head it was over. She lay there motionless and as I looked at her I gained my sanity back. I realized the magnitude of the situation and I began to weep like a little boy over her body. I regretted the act moments after it was completed, but it was too late. The cops were already on their way and I was out of plans. I just lay there crying over her body until they showed up.

Sackett had heard enough of the story to know that I was finished. I was blamed for the Greek’s murder and Cora’s. For this I was sentenced to death. The worst part about it all was the day that I found out that Cora was pregnant with my child. After hearing this news I felt as if I deserved to die. All I could do was ask for Cora’s forgiveness every day and night, and hope that in my death I could be reunited with her to tell her how sorry I am and express my love for her.

 Ernest Hemingway’s “The Killers”

Nick walked up the dark street to the corner under the arc-light, and then along the car-tracks to Henry’s eating house. George was inside, back of the counter.

“Hey, bright boy,” Nick hears, as a car stops beside him. “You’re alright, you know that?” he’s asked.  Before he reaches the building, he turns in search of the voice.

Nick freezes as he finds himself at the end of Al’s sawed-off.

“Seems your run of luck just ended.”

Al pulls Nick toward him with his free hand, gripping the neck of his shirt.

“You left. Now you’re back. Why?”

“I left my money back at my place. Have to pay for my meal.”

“The diner man would get it,” snarled Al, “or he’d be losing business. He’s a bright boy, bright boy. Now, you left. Now you’re back. Why? What all’s open in this town now? This is the only place we seen for miles.”

“A cinema, just around the corner.”

“Hey Max, he thinks we like the cinema!” Al and Max laugh hysterically.

“It’s always screening movies. No voices late at night,” Nick adds.

“We don’t care about no cinema,” Max says.

“Now,” starts Al “where’s Andreson?”

“I don’t know,” Nick lies. “He never showed.”

“Bright boy.”

“You were there. He never showed.”

“Bright boy.”

“I’m telling you the truth!”

“Bright boy, you don’t want to mix, see?” Al starts pulling the sawed-off’s handle down, moving the barrel up past Nick’s chest. “We came for the Swede, not you, bright boy,” he states, slowly. “Now. Do I have to ask again?”

“Turn through that light. Hirsch’s. Upstairs, waiting.”

Once the car is out of view, Nick starts into Henry’s. George greets him, and asks if he’d made it to Hirsch’s.

“No.”

“Good. I thought I’d lost business.”

“What? I paid.”

“I’m sure Andreson can take care of himself.”

“Just had to get out, not out of town. Needed to breathe.” Nick stretched his jaw and wrists, still recovering. “Never been muffled and tied before. And I don’t want it to happen again.”

“Ole Andreson can take care of himself, Adams. Now, dinner’s on the house tonight. Sam, isn’t that righ-”

He’s silenced by the blast of a sawed-off in the distance.

It cost a little money. I dyed my hair blond, leaving the roots. I went to a high end hair dresser. I told her to straighten it and make it shiny. When she was done my hair like a puddle of oil; it was smooth and reflective. Then I went to East Dallas to get my nose pierced and a tattoo of a swan with vines twining it. I put the tattoo just above my hip, and it covered just the tip of my front waist. That was about two thousand, all of that. I got the blue contacts, but I didn’t need the tanning salon. I brushed my cheeks with blush like I had been in the sun. I hung the pictures up on my wall and studied them. I told Stern I was looking for clues, and I was. I walked how it looked like she would walk, and I talked how it looked like she would talk. I lost weight. The guys at work didn’t quite put it together, they looked at me funny and they thought something, but they couldn’t quite place it. They asked for my number. I put together clothing that I had seen in the photographs her family had shown me. I listened to my sprinklers at night, like the rain, and I slept with my torso at an angle over my body and I sat right next to Roger in AA and I asked him to coffee and he turned as red as a beet and agreed.

And I realized it wasn’t enough. I did not become Annabel to win over Roger. I want Annabel’s life. I want to be Annabel completely.

I left AA immediately and drive to the Clarks’ home. I recognize the house from the police file and pull into the empty spot that Annabel’s car would have taken. No one is home, but that is fine. Perfect even because now I can wait for my parents to find me in the morning. I walk out my car and into the house, it is exactly how I imagined it to be, the foyer is spacious and the staircase large and grandiose. As I walk up the steps I see picture of Annabel, me, lining the walls. At age 6 in a ballerina outfit, 16 at prom, and christmas photos through the years all showcasing the life Annabel, I, had.

The door to my room is open. The bed has been left unmade, my pillow has tear stains in them, I imagine my mother coming in here inhaling my pillow for any last lingering scents of myself. I grab the pillow and stuff my face into it inhaling deeply. I gasp for air and release the pillow.

As I look up, I look into my reflection from the vanity mirror and I feel wrong. Something is wrong.

I look perfect. But I am not done.

Annabel is not alive. I should not be alive.

I look around the room frantically and my gaze locks on dance trophies lining the self. I grab the largest one.

There is no time to think.
I must be complete.
I must be Annabel.

Since we were given an ending that rivals that of any Edith Wharton novel, I thought to make my own. While I’m fine with sad endings, I don’t like them so let’s make it a little happier.

Cora waded towards me in the water, her wet hair drawn up into a messy ponytail. She smiled, wrapping her arms around me.

“Isn’t this grand? Is this what you wanted?” She asked, voice airy and soothing.

It was, actually. I ran a hand over her face, memorizing each sun kissed feature with delicate intensity.

“Yeah. Yeah it is.” I said breathlessly. “And after all we’ve been through too.”

“Oh please don’t say that.” She sighed, tilting her head to the side. “Don’t mention any of it.  I don’t want to remember it.”

“But it happened. We can’t change that.”

“But we can stop talking about it. It wasn’t a pleasant time.” She replied, eyes downcast.

I drew her up for a long kiss, moving us towards the beach. “Ok. I’ll stop. I’m sorry.”

“I suppose I can forgive you.” She smiled as we stepped onto the sand.

I put a hand up to my eyes as the sun blared its angry rays down my scalp. I wrapped an arm around Cora as we walked back to our things, her skin glistening under the hot light. We sat down, her head against my shoulder and my arm at her waist.

“Where to next?” She asked, nuzzled against me.

“I don’t know. Where do you want to go?”

“To the moon,” She laughed and it threw bubbles into my stomach.

I remained silent, quietly letting her words sink it. I would go anywhere with this woman. It wouldn’t matter if it was to Alcatraz or an Asylum. My life would serve no meaning without her and I’m fine with that. This has been the first time I’ve been happy, satisfied. I don’t feel like rushing away, escaping into a cave to never come out. I’m ok. And it’s all because of her. And for that, I would follow this woman into the stars.

“To the moon it is,”I repeated, eyes moving skyward and beyond.

While not an entirely definite ending, it was a lot happier than the original one. I’m not saying that I don’t like it. I actually do but I didn’t want to go stare blankly at the corner of the room contemplating life after I sat through the story. This ending was a little fluffier than the last and for that I’m happy. Sometimes I don’t want to feel sad after reading or watching noir. Gosh.

For this writing assignment, I had to write an alternative ending to a piece of noir literature we were required to read for this week. I chose to write an alternative ending for The Shadow: The Death Triangle. Unfortunately, making up stories has never been my strong suit. I remember I had to write a short story in 5th grade and couldn’t think of how to end it… so I made the main character wake up and realize the whole story was a dream… I proceeded to do that for the next three stories I had to write as well. Lets just say my 5th grade teacher was not happy.

I did not enjoy this assignment as much as most… just not my forte. I guess since I did not enjoy it… It is the reason I am having a really hard time writing this post. Blogging about assignments you don’t want to do is just as bad as doing the actual assignment. Oh well. just means that the next post will have a reason to be extra awesome lol

Not gonna lie… I almost made the SHADOW wake up from a out of body dream and realize that he was actually Evans… lol

3.5 STARS