Happy New Year! (Featuring "New Years on Rue Bourbon")

Happy New Year everyone! As some of you know, I am currently preparing myself for a trip down to Orlando for New Years. Last year, I was prepping for a train ride to New Orleans. I'll be making the drive tomorrow with my co-captain, Rylan. For a good six-eight hours tomorrow, we'll be driving on down and chilling to some Willie Nelson. Well, a bit. I don't know how much he'll enjoy that.
In honor of the holiday, I'm gonna put up something I wrote last year to commemorate the journey out west to NoLa. I hope y'all enjoy it. In the meantime, please keep us in your prayers, and watch the game. Go DAWGS! Sorry for the lack of biting wit and interesting comment, but I don't have time. See y'all in Mickey Town!

New Year's Eve On Rue Bourbon

The weeping city of New Orleans sits on the banks of the Mississippi River. Most unfortunately for them, these banks tend to get above their limits on occasion, which has caused much suffering for the people living in this Pearl of the Mississippi Delta. Thankfully, the city of New Orleans rose from the proverbial, and in some places quite literal, depths to restore such a beautiful Mecca of the South to its former glory.
An annual tradition in this Paris of the American South is a classic gridiron match-up known as The Sugar Bowl. New Year’s Day in New Orleans usually features fans of the best football team in the South preparing to defend the region from some interloper from another part of the country, either the East coast, the mid-western plains, or in this one particular case, the Hawaiian Islands. My good friend and I partook of a gentle train ride from our home in Atlanta to New Orleans on New Year’s Eve so we could enjoy this elegant contest of football.
These shut-eyed college students we were could never have anticipated the experiences that lay ahead for us in that fair city. Before stepping foot in town, there were Appalachian Americans drinking beer and cajoling up and down the aisles of the train! It was senselessness on rails, I tell you. Yet this was only the beginning.
Being New Year’s Eve, we decided to stretch our usual bed-time of strictly 10pm a little more so we might enjoy our first Midnight on New Year’s. After meandering through the shabby streets littered in trash and conspicuously passed-out individuals, we were starving. So we tried to find food on what we’d heard was the fanciest, most reputable, cleanest place in town: Rue Bourbon. I’d expected the sweet aroma of Creole cooking to waft through the vine draped walls of white and iron-wrought balustrades to my delighted nose, but not the noxious fumes of some unknown substance between battery acid and a thick fog that won’t lift. The smell was suffocating. I later learned it was the smell of alcohol and stogies, things that I’d only rarely seen before, coming from such a prestigious, upstanding Southern university. People crowded on the street by the hundreds, blasting out loud music that led my ears to bleed and tripping all over each other. I had never seen such shameless fondling and random hurling of beads, which I am proud to say I have not seen since. When I thought we’d found safety in a girl I knew from class, she did something I shutter to recall, yet will for the benefit of my reader. She lifted her shirt in front of us. I was startled and appalled, and successfully dodge her to this day, for fear of public blushing.
The worst event of the night was when a man-yes, a man-brushed up against me and took hold of my overcoat. Fortunately, it was a cold night and I had a coat, or else I faint to think of what else he may have gripped. I pushed him away in disgust and kept on walking. I tell you, I am yet to experience so much sin and personal degradation in a month of Sundays as I did on that one street the last night of the year. And I tell you now, if I ever visit that deplorable town again, it will be with armed guard for enough time to see the game and leave. I assure you, I will never spend New Year’s on Rue Bourbon again.

Adam W.

As The World Turns...Without Me (Featuring "The Miracle")

Hey, y'all. It's me again. Sorry it took so long to update. Since the last post, I've finished finals, the Dawgs have finished their season (and on a sad note, I might add), and the rumors of the Hadron Collider destroying the Earth have mostly finished. So, the world goes on as it did and as it has and as it likely will until someone invents something that will follow through on it's promise for complete world destruction.
But do you ever feel like the world moves on without you? As Christmas gets closer, and we get more excited about the coming season, and I am certainly in that number, I feel as if life moves on without me involved. I look around at the lives of people around me and wonder what I'm waiting for. There are those who are married, pregnant, raising their families, people who are in love, people who are in careers, and people who are changing their world. What am I doing? What am I up to, and when will I join the ranks of society? I feel like I'm sitting in stasis right now, and I gotta tell you, it isn't fun. Please keep in mind a couple things as you read this little time waster before I get to latest publication. I do not wish to be married with kids immediately. That is simply an example of people moving on that I wanted to post. And I'm not some anxty teenager sitting in a dark corner with lines on my arm and lines in my hair, but someone who just wonders what is going on. Being in stasis is not fun, but I guess I should just resolve to pray for movement or patience, whichever comes first. I should pray for growth in this time of stasis, because Heaven knows, when the world around keeps moving, and I decide to jump on, growing won't be as easy or nearly as fun. It'll hurt. So I guess I should keep growing now, and wait for stasis to end. I'll keep praying for that. Because it's right to pray for something...
And on that note, I humply present to you another original short by Adam W. Wynn, "The Miracle." This story is interesting in that it comes out of a personal experience, much less dramatic than the one included herein, but in my own twisted way, appropriately similar. I prayed for a miracle, only to receive it in the most unlikely way. I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to leave comments, and take no notice of the missing Hindi Word of the Week. I didn't feel like including that feature today. No one ever responds to it!

"The Miracle"

Little Jimmy Wilkins prayed for a miracle. He prayed for a miracle every night for three years. There was no reason. There was nothing specific. Little Jimmy Wilkins just figured it was right to pray for something, and since he did not know what else, he prayed for a miracle.
Little Jimmy Wilkins prayed for a miracle every night for three years. And every day for three years, he expected a miracle to arrive. It never did. There was the time his mother’s car was struck by a semi on the highway. Though she lived, the family fell to a terrible financial burden. Then there was the time his sister went to the hospital with cancer. Though she lived, she was never the same again, refusing to speak or love, or let people get close to her. Then of course there was the time his father was fired. He did not live. The strain of all that had happened drove him to park his car with nothing but a gun and a note.
Little Jimmy Wilkins prayed for a miracle every night for three years. Though it never came, he prayed on nonetheless. He prayed for a miracle because it was right to pray for something. After a while, Little Jimmy Wilkins knew that what he needed truly was a miracle. Nothing short of this would save his family. He wanted nothing less than a miracle. Nothing big. Just enough to maybe lift their spirits. Little Jimmy Wilkins was in a dark place.
In the time of his prayers, seemingly everyone had rejected Little Jimmy Wilkins. His sister would not talk to him, as she took an involuntary vow of silence from the world. His mother couldn’t afford to not work and be with the kids. His father would just as soon die as spend time with him. And nobody in the world wanted to love Little Jimmy Wilkins.
Little Jimmy Wilkins was denied a miracle every day for three years. After a while, this got to him. Little Jimmy Wilkins couldn’t stand being ignored. He wanted a sister to talk to, a mother to hug, a father to play with, and a God to listen. More than any, he wanted a hand to touch. There wasn’t a girl in the world he wouldn’t have talked to. Not a girl he wouldn’t have given a chance. But there wasn’t a girl in the world who would ask. Little Jimmy Wilkins was, in every way, alone.
Little Jimmy Wilkins stood atop the Tanner Bridge. After looking out over the river below, Little Jimmy Wilkins decided to make his own miracle. The one thing that never left his mind since that day a few years back when his father died was this. Little Jimmy Wilkins’ father was smiling. The man in the coffin had a wider smile than he ever had before. Most people explained this away by saying that he needed some way to fit the gun in, but he didn’t use his head. He shot his heart. Little Jimmy Wilkins’ father appeared happier dead than he did alive. He smiled.
Little Jimmy Wilkins prayed for a miracle every night for the last three years. In three years, it never came. Little Jimmy Wilkins knew that the time had come to ignore every voice around him and just make his own miracle.
By this time, Little Jimmy Wilkins was Eighteen. The river moved on underneath Little Jimmy Wilkins, unaware of the struggle above. The river moved on to a place that he would never see. The river moved swiftly on back towards the life that Little Jimmy Wilkins willingly left behind.
It was a cold evening, the night that Little Jimmy Wilkins decided. The moving air pushed back the hair on his arm. The cold caused Little Jimmy Wilkins’ eyes to tear. He wasn’t sad. Little Jimmy Wilkins knew what was coming, and for the first time in three years, he laughed. Standing there, arms open wide, ready to move his weight just a little more forward, Little Jimmy Wilkins laughed. This was such a hard laugh that he nearly lost balance and fell backwards. Little Jimmy Wilkins had never felt so free, and never felt so ready for anything. His anticipation was finally gone.
Little Jimmy Wilkins had prayed for a miracle every night for the last three years. But tonight, he knew it would come. Little Jimmy Wilkins no longer anticipated, no longer anxiously sweated, realizing it was all but a step away. There he was, above the tree line, the gray clouds above, ready to wash Little Jimmy Wilkins away from the world, away with the river. People would wake up the next morning to see him in town, just passing by, and something would strike them on Little Jimmy Wilkins’ face they had not seen in three years.
Little Jimmy Wilkins would be smiling.
Little Jimmy Wilkins had prayed for a miracle every night for the last three years. He had been ignored every night for the last three years. He knew that tonight, nothing would ignore him. Little Jimmy Wilkins commanded the attention of the world tonight, as he stood there, arms open wide, eyes readily shut, and feet moving forward.
Little Jimmy Wilkins did not leap. Little Jimmy Wilkins stepped over the edge. The air drowned his lungs, forcing in like a bad realization just now arriving. Once more, Little Jimmy Wilkins prayed. Little Jimmy Wilkins knew it was right to pray for something, and now at the moment of his death, it was even more apt. Little Jimmy Wilkins had prayed for a miracle every night for the last three years. And every night, he had been ignored. What made him think this would be any different?
Little Jimmy Wilkins hit bottom; he looked up. There, Little Jimmy Wilkins saw his father smiling. Not like in the coffin, a smile of release, but anew. A smile of unsure acceptance. It could be inferred that he was glad to see Little Jimmy Wilkins again, but not so glad about the manner in which it was done.
“Father, why did you forsake me?” Little Jimmy Wilkins requested of his father.
“Forsake you I did not, but rather tried to save you. I was not enough for you, and never would be. I wasn’t who you needed,” was the answer so strangely given by father.
“Father, why were you smiling?”
“Between the bang and end, there was an eternity of thought. And in that fierce moment, it occurred to me. This was true folly. But for once, I was glad I wouldn’t be there to accept it. For it was all over. And I’d never deal with it again.”
Little Jimmy Wilkins hit bottom.
Little Jimmy Wilkins was still laughing as the water freed his lungs.

Little Jimmy Wilkins did not die.

Little Jimmy Wilkins was denied his own miracle.
Due to a drought, the river was barely at waist height for Little Jimmy Wilkins. It was just high enough for Little Jimmy Wilkins to break both legs and suffer extensive shock, leading to a lengthy coma.
When Little Jimmy Wilkins woke up, there was a young woman there he’d never seen. This nurse had apparently taken great interest in his case, and decided to devote herself entirely to caring for Little Jimmy Wilkins. She wasn’t unattractive. She was indeed lovely enough that when Little Jimmy Wilkins first saw her, it felt like Heaven. Or just another dream, there was no way to be sure. To put it simply, she was beautiful.
Little Jimmy Wilkins was soon flooded with visitors. It had been three years since he fell asleep. And every night for three years, the town prayed for a miracle. Finally, on this very day, Little Jimmy Wilkins was awake, and their prayers were answered. For the first time, Little Jimmy Wilkins heard sister scream his name. Apparently, the shock of his own actions drove her to cry, and then to speak. For the first time, he felt his mother’s arms wrapped around him. For the first time, Little Jimmy Wilkins knew that father died for him, not to get away.
Little Jimmy Wilkins spent the next few months in the hospital with the nurse. By this time, Little Jimmy Wilkins was twenty-one. And so was she. When she had free time, it was spent with Little Jimmy Wilkins. She would read with him, feed him, and do all the things he could do on his own, but would much rather not. Little Jimmy Wilkins would never walk again.
However, she spent her life with him. For the next three years, Little Jimmy Wilkins grew accustomed to his new pair of legs, the ones that pushed him around. To be frank, he grew quite accustomed to these legs. Finally, they married. Every night after that, for the rest of his life, Little Jimmy Wilkins never once prayed for a miracle, but he knew it was right to pray for something. Instead, Little Jimmy Wilkins spent every night for the rest of his life thanking God for the miracle that was his wife. And his sister. And his mother. And his father. And ever day that God had ever blessed him with, for that indeed was the miracle of Little Jimmy Wilkins.

Well, I hope y'all enjoyed "The Miracle." It is probably one of my favorites. A feature you may or may not have noticed is that most of my works take place in the fictional town of "Horizon." In many ways, Horizon resembles the very real place of Dacula. However, it is also a place of my own creation with it's own particular mannerisms and inhabitants. The best part about Horizon is that it is home. Wherever you are from, my purpose in creating Horizon is to create home. When people look off into the Horizon, where is it they look? I say that they are looking towards home. Whether this is a home they've been to and grown in, or a home they are still searching for, people look towards the place they feel at home. And I hope that Horizon can grow to resemble that place. Thanks, y'all. Have a very MERRY CHRISTMAS, and as we approach this most wonderful of holidays, please do me the honor of remembering the first miracle of Christmas, along with the miracle of Little Jimmy Wilkins. We are blessed for each day we are given, and Christmas Day most of all. Thanks.

Adam W.

Phil. 3:12-14

Assassins and Such

Hello, faithful readers (if any exist yet). It's me again. I've been involved in a stressful/tense game of Assassins lately. I was considering letting myself get out of it, but then I was nearly taken out on Monday, and the adrenaline rush of escaping the (not so really) fatal Nerf dart of fate made me change my mind.
Georgia Football is getting to the difficult part of the schedule. I think we'll take LSU, but it's gonna be tough...and close! I'm thinking late game heroics by a matured Stafford will save the game. Also, I think it'll give us the confidence we need to go in and defeat Florida for the second year in a row, for the first time since like 1989 or so. We'll see! Our overarching goal of a Nat'l Championship isn't over yet. The BCS likes us well enough right now, putting us at No. 7, ahead of Florida! I'm glad that system is a little smarter than the voters that have fallen in love with that ugly orange and blue. But that's just me.
Okay, that's enough about me. This first story I'm gonna share with y'all is one of my earliest shorts. I really like it. Yes, it is vaguely inspired by true events, but keep in mind I do mean VAGUELY! Just read it, tell me what you think, and enjoy it. I hope you're a little richer for the experience. If you're actually reading this, feel free to comment on it. Also, don't forget the Hindi Word of the Week! Since no one guessed (or even read) last week's it's gonna be open until I get a guess, but preferably a correct one. Here goes!

The Bus Ride

John sat on the bench awaiting his turn to get on the bus. The waning moon slowly faded behind the clouds and the streetlights cast a bland orange along the ground. As the bus pulled up, John made his way to the door and sat down methodically two seats down and to the left on the driver’s side. The driver played a track from an old Dave Mathews CD as the passenger sat on quietly waiting to get home.
Across from him tonight, however, he saw a new thing. He saw a woman sitting there whom he had never before noticed on his route home. John never was one for conversing with females. He had a habit of freezing up and becoming even more introverted when he tried. O, but she’s so beautiful, he thought to himself. If perhaps he could only say hello, perhaps they could become friends. John had few friends, and virtually knew not a single woman.
He thought to himself how nice it might be to have someone he could talk to on this lonely road home. He thought how much he would enjoy not having to sit alone so quiet as the rest of the passengers just accepting the dark night ahead of them. He thought to himself how much kinder the road would be were there someone sharing it with him. O, he thought to himself.
O, he thought to himself.
John stood up, and moved across the row. He saw himself sitting down next to the lady and even then prepared to speak! “Hello, m’am. I’m John. I don’t believe I have ever seen you on this route before. Are you visiting?”
It turns out, she had lived in the area for a few months, but always managed to catch an earlier bus. It just so happened however, that she had to work late this particular evening and thus was there for John to talk to. Her name was Beatrice.
The two sat and talked until it was time for John to get off at his apartment. When he stood to leave, he feigned forgetfulness, saying he was getting off far too soon. So, he and Beatrice had more time to talk. Eventually, her stop came too. Apparently, they both were rather forgetful people, because they stayed on the bus for a few stops more talking together about all sorts of things from lakehouses to European vacations. O, the dreams those two conjured while sitting on that bus.
Unfortunately, the bus routes are shorter than their ability to talk. The driver made his last stop and forced the two off the bus. Now, being devoid of a bus and a long way from home, the two suffered through walking each other home. And a more pleasurable sojourn has never before been known. This whimsical pair conspired up fantasies of winter snows and summer nights and secretly planned to join the other on each of them.
Yet still, the night was too short, for they could only stand outside each other’s doors, which they walked to and from at least seven times by daybreak, at which point they finally made it up to sleep. After about an hour of sleep, however, both John and Beatrice walked to the bus stop together, and rode in to work just as refreshed as if they’d been dreaming all night. Though she was exhausted by lunch, Beatrice decided to work late again. So, she and John met up on the bus.
This routine continued for many weeks, until John finally asked her to go out one night on the weekend. Thrilled to the soul, Beatrice dressed up in her finest clothes and jewels, an astounding array of beauty and form, to meet John for dinner. This became the routine as well, although the locale changed. Occasionally they’d meet each other for dinner at the other’s apartment and have a simple evening with some salad, a nice roasted chicken, and a little white wine before an old, cheesy chick-flick from the couch. Beatrice and John fell so deep in love over this time, and John was tired of having to say goodnight each time the movie ended. So, he did what any intelligent man would do, and bought a ring.
It wasn’t long before he and Beatrice met up one night at the same restaurant they had first ventured together. Afterwards, John led her on an unknown walk to a ratty little bus shelter on the corner of Love and Idleness. It was at this spot he bowed on bended knee and poured such beautiful verse from his mouth as he gave her the ring. With his enchanting woo, she had no choice but to say yes! O, these two were in love in such a way as few had been before. John knew that his life was for the first time where he wanted it to be. True happiness was in his view, and better so, in his grasp.
The wedding was held on an idyllic, quiet day in June with friends and family adorned in summer dress, with the bride still outshining them all in the most gorgeous, purest white. John watched her walk down the aisle toward him. His heart could barely believe he had arrived at this moment. Their new lives together were going to be wonderful. He knew that they would do all of those things they promised back on those nights with the bus.
And sure enough, they did. John and Beatrice took a few years before having children to do all of those things they had dreamed of, from spending a week at the lakehouse, to traveling Europe, winters in Montana, and summers at the beach. Those years with just the two of them were as a dream that prolonged itself every morning they woke up together. Every moment made John more happy than the one before. Finally, when the time came to have children, they had two lovely little girls and beautiful boy. All three of them grew up to be smart, caring, and wonderful children that blessed their parents endlessly, despite the occasional speeding ticket or bad boyfriend. Life was beautiful.
One day, they wondered where the time had gone. Their children were grown, with the youngest just finishing college. John looked back on each day gone by with a glow in his eye and a joy that he never expected to be. Life was a perfect road for him ever since that night on the bus.
Even the most perfect dream, however, is not without flaw. There came a time when Beatrice found something that scared John and her both to a realization that life could not go on like this. She was to spend the next months in a hospital trying to defeat this cancer in her chest that he prayed would disappear. Sure enough, John spent every waking moment by her bed. He would not tolerate to have her left alone even for the blink of an eye. It came a day when they knew the dream was over.
“I love you, John. I am sorry that I had to put you through all of this. If only we could have avoided it,” he heard her scrape out with a few meager breaths left.
“No. I love you so much, Beatrice. I would rather have spent this time with you in tears for all the joy we had, than to think of my life without you. And to think of you with no one here during all of this! Do not regret it for an instant, love.” John held her hand so tight that his own knuckles were turning white. He refused to let her go. He sat in the night with a broken spirit, but a calm in knowing that all was for the better. And in an instant, a sound came that turned the course of his entire life askew.
The brakes squealed aloud in a manner that would jostle a deaf man. John sat straight up and looked around. There was the thing sitting across from him, just as she had been all along. The man was at his stop, which John would recognize even in a warped daze. So, he got off the bus, still his ears writhing of that old Dave Mathews chorus, truly mis-given advice to heed he was sure: Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow…we die.

Adam W.

So, that's that. I hope y'all enjoyed it. Time for me to head on outta here. Have a good one, and I look forward to updating next time with something else.

Hindi Word of the Week: अस्सस्सिं

Hint: Do they speak Hindi in Bangkok, because I hear it's dangerous there.

Welcome! What Do You Think?

Hey, y'all. So...this is a new blog. Obviously. Don't really have time to post anything long or substantial right now, I just wanted to announce my presence to the world and hope that y'all come visit me often. Also, I hope y'all will take time to explore the blog. There isn't much in the way of excitement...yet! But, I will try to have a "Hindi Word of the Week (or however often I post)" just because I like reader involvement.
To add a little substance before you get involved, this is a little bit about me. I'm a third-year student at the University of Georgia. I love Bulldog Football and Athens, GA. I'm from a small town in rural GA called Dacula. If you're not familiar, that's okay. But I promise you, it's a great place to be. I love it! I love to write, which is why I decided to actually put this up in the first place. I also love McDonald's and Campton's fried chicken. If you've never been there, I must insist that you look it up online (I'm sure you can find Campton's somewhere) and make the trip immediately. It's a small restaurant between Winder, GA and Monroe, GA, but much closer to Monroe. I don't care how far the trip is for you, do it. Even my international readers (ha...ha)!
I love Movies. My current collection of DVDs, mostly $5 DVDs at Wal-Mart or previously viewed from Blockbuster, is about 75 or so. It doesn't grow much while I'm home for the summer, because I don't make many trips to Wal-Mart, but now that I'm back in Athens, I've picked up a couple. I especially enjoy MAKING movies, though. Some friends of mine and I have incorporated a little "production company." We're not constantly working, but when we do, it's a thing of beauty. I've also been privileged to work with GTV, or Housing 12. This is the resident housing television station at the University of Georgia. So, I spend alot of time around cameras/people with cameras. It's fun for me.
I especially enjoy Country Music, which might or might not make me sound like a redneck. Don't really care. It's good stuff.
Lastly, I am a Christian. I mention this because it is a huge part of my life. My God has defined my life more than anything else. Jesus Christ saved my life (read: physical/spiritual) about five and a half years ago (May 2003) and has since been doing an amazing work in me, especially lately.
I work with the Baptist Collegiate Ministries (BCM) at UGA trying to help Freshmen grow in their faith, as well as the general goal of reaching this campus for Christ. At the same time, though I know what I believe and I will not be shaken on that, I try to listen to people and not ignore or demean their beliefs. It's a tough balance, or so people think at least, but it is very much possible. Treat people like people, and you'll get a long way.
So, now that you know a little more about me, I hope you'll enjoy checking back frequently and seeing what's going on over here. I'm not really sure how frequently I'll update (if ever, knowing me), but I hope you enjoy what you get. Even if this is all it is. Good luck on today's Hindi word, and GO DAWGS! SINK THE 'DORES!
Hindi Word of the Week: बुल्ल्डोग
Hint for HWotW: I promise you, this word isn't orange.

PS! Let me add that this blog is named "42Cobras" for a very specific reason. About a month ago, one of my old professors was giving a reading in Athens. I went to hear it, and afterwards, some folks (including a fellow blogger who is much more advanced and familiar with this process, go read him, link at the bottom) were asking him if he had any published work. Well, he said that a website had published some of his poems, and we should go read it at 42opus.com. I don't hear well, and could've sworn he said "42cobras." So, I decided that I would get a website called 42cobras.com. Although I'm still only at blogspot, I've made a huge step in getting this process completed. We'll see what happens!