Prologue: A Chance Encounter
There are many things I have come to think about when I look back at my days in West Egg. The beautiful little bungalow I owned, the bustle of New York, and Gatsby. Gatsby, the man who was built on a lie, left a profound impression on me, much more so than Jordan. For a man who built his whole life around hope and was involved in bootlegging, I could still see him as an honest friend... at least honest to me.
At first, I was intrigued by my neighbor and the lavish parties he threw. Then, I found myself whisked into the glamorous, over the top parties that he threw. For a while, I thought he simply flaunted his wealth, but he was not a man of that sort. No, the man hardly even had a drink if he were ever invited to have one. However, after I found out the truth, I did not know what to think of Gatsby. He was not an evil man... No... His intentions for Daisy were solid and I understood. Tom was washed out and was sick of Daisy. Honestly, I did think that he beat her at times after he went over to see his mistress... poor Mrs Wilson. Then, I saw the Gatsby that was probably there all along, the Gatsby that longed for his Daisy again. It seemed well that summer... Until it all changed.
Tom may had been an old friend, but damn him for taking us to the Plaza Hotel. If it had not been for him, none of this would've really happened. I blame him for most of it, rightfully so, but Daisy... How could she. What happened to Mrs Wilson was an accident and I understood that... But still... She left Gatsby that night as Tom went and lied to the grieving Mr Wilson. She completely abandoned him. That night, I bid my goodbye to Jordan in a rather... Crude manner, though not entirely disrespectful. After that night, I was simply tired of it all... I was washed out. Upon my departure from the Buchanan home, I found Gatsby there, cowering behind a bush. And there, he confessed the truth... The whole thing in regards with the accident. He seemed so... broken, almost like when he and I were at my house waiting for Daisy to show for the first time that summer. For all the lies though, I could not hate the man.
When I returned home that night, I was too jittery to sleep so I simply wandered about. Eventually, I made my way into the Gatsby property to find him in his garage, cleaning the blood off the yellow convertible. From there on... we just talked. There were no lies, no stories of grandeur, we just talked. Throughout the night and into breakfast the next morning, he confided every detail about his life, and it was all the truth. Then, I finally noticed it, Gatsby was a man of great hope, but he seemed to grasp that hope even though it was fruitless to try and grab it and take it.
When the morning dawn finally shined through the windows in all of it's glory, we made our way outside and he observed that he hadn't used the large, beautiful pool all summer. He had invited to join him in the pool but I declined, saying that I had to work. It was my worst regret. Ever the good man, he and I bid ourselves farewell, promising to meet each other again. Having left his property through the side gate, I had turned around to see him staring off across the bay. Something came over me though, as he looked somewhat depressed. Calling out to him, I told him, “You're worth the whole damn bunch put together". It felt good to say that to him, hell... It was the first complement I gave to him because I had disapproved of him to a degree from start to end. That moment though, as we waved back at each other, it felt like we were true friends that could count on each other as we had never wronged one another. It was a good feeling.
But now all good feelings had passed away. Now, here I stood, alone in the cemetery as Gatsby's coffin was lowered into the ground. When I had left for work and as Gatsby waited for Daisy's phone call, Mr Wilson had snuck into Gatsby's home and shot him, apparently just as I tried to call Gatsby himself. The whole ordeal was shocking nonetheless, but still... At least it was somewhat quick. From what I heard, he had died as he fell back into the pool after Mr Wilson turned the gun to his own head. It was a hell of a way to go for such a man. When the police finally wrapped their investigation up, I had taken it upon myself to plan out my now deceased friend's funeral. During the time in which Jay lying in state, I took it upon myself to try and phone Daisy and tell her about the funeral. However, my efforts were futile as that french bastard they have for a Butler informed me that they had skipped town. From that point on, I made it my damnedest to never speak to my cousin again for she didn't betray me, but the man who did everything for her and would had loved her to the end of times. When I finally gave up on trying to call them, I looked back down the spiral staircase, below in which rested the body of Gatsby, to find reporters of all kinds from all papers swarming the body getting photographs, threatening to deface it. I promptly shooed them out in my state of anger and closed the doors for the rest of the day until the funeral.
As the coffin was finally lowered it's 6 feet, I promptly said goodbye to my friend by throwing the ticket to the party on the coffin and then proceeded to throw the first pile of dirt on top of it. It was the least I could do to the man who never wronged me and became my best friend in his final hours. After the ceremony finished, I turned away to leave the cemetery as a dark overcast began to form above.
Making my way back to West Egg, the sky began to spit out rain as I slowly made my way back. When I had finally made it to the fields of ash, I felt the strangest feeling, as if the eyes of TJ Eckleburg were truly watching me as I drove by. The strangest thing that happened to me was when I had finally reached my home as it poured rain. Making my way inside, I honestly did not think to do anything other than have a drink. It was as if my mind was lost in some sort of trance after Gatsby's one attendee funeral. As I took a glass of liquor off the shelf and began to pour myself a drink, a knock came from my front door.
For a moment, I did not answer as I wondered... Who would knock on my front door during this weather. It seemed rather... unordinary. I was tempted to ignore it until a knock came from the door once again. This time, I was compelled to answer the door. When I had opened the door, the man who stood before me was rather extravagantly dressed, as if he had just come from one Gatsby's parties. The colors of his suit seemed to be somewhat chaotic in a sense and his eyes... My God I had never seen eyes so red before. And yet here this man was, standing on my front porch, in possession of two, hellish red eyes. I was about to ask who he was until he cut me off.
"I am terribly sorry to interrupt but it appears that my car has a nail in it. I really do not mean to intrude but is it alright if I come inside to escape the weather?" He asked. His voice had a bit of a lisp but I forgot the detail and immediately stepped aside, gesturing that he may enter. Once he entered the bungalow, he introduced himself to me.
"Oh dear, where are my manners. My name is Cris Odic, however... You may call me Discord if you so please. My name is more of an anagram if anything." He said as he stuck out his wet hand towards me.
"Nick Carraway." I said, not knowing what I was getting into.
"Ah, so you must be the Mr Carraway I had heard about. It is a pleasure to meet you, though I do wish we could meet under different circumstances." He said gingerly.
"How do you know me?" I ask suspiciously.
"Well, I read about you in the papers!" He began. "It is a shame what happened to Me Gatsby, my condolences... But to divulge from that rather unsavory subject, I heard you sell bonds, am I correct?" He asked.
"Well... At this point, I am on the verge of leaving." I said admittedly.
"Oh, well... Why is that? If you don't enjoy bonds, I am pretty sure the writing business could be in need of some good solid novelists." Now this guy was beginning to make me nervous.
"I am sorry but how do you know I work in bonds and used to dabble in writing?" I pressed. Now, this... Discord or Cris or whatever wore a face somewhat reminiscent of a puppy dog pouting.
"I am sorry for that. However, I have come to make a deal. I can see you have fashioned yourself a drink." He said, gesturing towards the liquor in the glass. "You seem terribly broken and I wish to help remedy that... How would you feel about going on a sort of adventure?" He asked. Now he had my curiosity.
"An adventure you say?"
"Yes, an adventure of epic proportions. I can tell that if you stay this city any longer, you may come to marry that drink." He said with a chuckle. There was something about this man, he seemed so chaotic in dress and style but yet he still managed to make a person laugh in the darkest of times.
"Well, you have my intrigue now Mr Odic. Now what do you have in mind for this sort of... Adventure?" I asked.
"Ah, that is a secret that Mr Carraway. However, you may be in the company of an old friend." As soon as he mentioned that word, my expression turned dour.
"I am sorry to inform you but I have no friends... And I recently just buried one today." I said, keeping my four expression visible. It seemed to have an effect... An overdramatic one mind you, as Odic's face turned into one of sympathy.
"I can see you are troubled Mr Carraway, that is why I am offering you this. I hope you may trust that I am telling the truth." He said, putting a hand on my shoulder. For a minute, I pondered about the offer. He was right in a sense, I probably would marry the drink. But what about going home to the Midwest... The question lingered in my mind for some time. And in that time, Odic was still there. I don't know what came of me or if this was the doing of TJ Eckleburg, but I accepted the thought of an adventure.
"What luggage would I need to bring with me?" I asked.
"Not to worry, all that will be taken care of, courtesy of me." He said. "So, Mr Carraway, do you accept?"
For a moment, I pondered one even though my heart ached for the sense of adventure to escape the gloominess that I now saw wherever I went in New York.
"I... I accept." I finally said.
"Excellent, I hope you find this journey to be pleasurable Mr Carraway." He said with a smile creeping up his face. And just like that, he snapped his fingers and the world went dark.
It somewhat felt like an eternity but at the same time didn't feel like an eternity. For a moment, I thought I was dead but a little while later as I woke up, I discovered that I indeed did not die... But after the darkness, I expected light and that I received. However, it was not the light of heaven which I was expecting, but rather the lights of a towering skyscraper in front of me in the alleyway.... Wait... I was in an alleyway. Better yet, I was in a car, a very familiar car. Still getting a grip of my surroundings, I heard a grunt beside me. As the figure rose up rubbing his eyes, I immediately went pale as snow as soon as I saw his face and heard his words.
"Hello old sport."
Author's Note
Hello everyone you old sports! Glad to see you all read this first prologue to my new story! I sorta came up with this idea after watching the movie and reading the book. In the end, I felt bad for both Gatsby and Carraway so I decided to give them that second chance, a chance without Daisy, Tom, or Wolfsheim. And with that, a little bit of added chaos to spice things up.
As always, leave a comment if you so please. Comments and criticism are always welcome as long as it is kept respectful.
(Extra Stuff: the words Cris and Odic are both anagrams of Discord.)
