TITLE: In the alternate reality of the life of Sonny Blue
By TJ Nickel
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In the alternate reality of the life of Sonny Blue, Sonny didn’t sing the blues. In the end of his actual life, he considered the blues his fate, something given to him by virtue of his surname and his upbringing – something the gods willed for him. People tell me all the time that if they could go back to any moment in time to change something bad that happened to them, they’d refuse the offer. All their life events are compiled in such a way that removing a block would result in a loss of the whole. These people believe in fate like Sonny did at the end. I don’t believe in fate; not for myself, and on account of Sonny Blue. If I could go back, I would. I’d do it for Sonny. I’d do it for what I didn’t do for Sonny. I’d do it even if it killed me, because sometimes the singular moments in life amount to a sum much greater than the whole. There was a sometime for Sonny, on someday long ago, before Sonny stopped believing in living and replaced it with life.
In the alternate reality of the life of Sonny Blue, on that someday that stood at the threshold of Fate, I spoke. Instead of leaving the room aware that I’d met an evil beyond my comprehension, I stayed and cried out. And the cry alone was all that was needed. The world of the Blue’s stood still at Fate’s open door and my cry prevented them from passing through. Sonny’s parents had no idea what to do with my reaction. They stood confused by an alien yawp, and I grabbed Sonny by his arm and raced him from the home.
In the alternate reality of the life of Sonny Blue, on that someday when I chose to yawp and run with him instead of from him, Sonny was saved from the sufferings hidden from the world by calculating devils postured as caregivers of an incorrigible child. On that day, we ran to my bedroom and sat in silence for hours. In silence, I searched for the words to say to my parents upon their arrival. My search yielded poor results. The time in silence was filled by the manipulative phone call from Sonny’s mother. My jibber resulted in them loading Sonny into the car. I didn’t yawp.
In the alternate reality of the life of Sonny Blue, on that someday when I found and then lost my yawp, I ventured into the cover of darkness towards Sonny’s house. The silhouette was unmistakable. I crashed through the threshold of Providence and attacked the devil towering over Sonny.
He killed me.
In the alternate reality of the life of Sonny Blue, on the days following that someday, Sonny enjoyed my parent’s home. He lived out the remainder of his adolescence in the bedroom we showered with silence. He became me for them. I dare say he was a better me than me and they a better them for him.
In the alternate reality of the life of Sonny Blue, Sonny never sung the blues, and I didn’t live my life behind a swallowed yawp.
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