This dissertation is a piece of creative writing in fulfilment of the Final Major Project for BA (Hons) Creative Writing.
Prologue:
Is it appropriate to say ‘good morning’? I don’t know. I guess I’ll just continue regardless.
I didn’t expect to be standing here and talking to you all today. I’m still convinced his mum asked the wrong person, I’m sure you all knew him longer than me. Why should I be the one to speak here? Surely there is someone better qualified to preach to you about the kind of person he was – an arrogant, up-himself twat who lived vicariously through the writing of himself and others. He was headstrong and wouldn’t let anyone tell him he was shit at writing – he wasn’t, I guess.
I don’t read much, but the novels of his that I read were all alright. For someone who has never had an ounce of romance in his life, he could fool his readers, that’s for sure. But one of his books, in particular, didn’t have any romance in it at all, it didn’t need it. It was powerful enough.
Despite our short-lived time together, he was like no other person I’ve met. He bulldozed his way into my life out of the blue and didn’t give me the option to get rid of him. I don’t even know if we could even be classed as friends. What makes someone a friend anyway? I’m sure you all have different answers to that. So, maybe we were. Regardless, I do wish I had more time with him, there is so much more I have to say. Like, he is incredibly stupid for leaving us. How am I supposed to live life for both of us? He had the goals, the drive and the will to live. It’s unfair that he is gone. Death is unfair but, then again, so is life.
But what is most unfair is that those of you here today failed him. Yes, even you Mr and Mrs Watkins. Your son is dead.
So maybe I am the best person to be speaking to you all today. Maybe I am the person who knew him best. Theo Watkins is dead but his words will never be.
It’s time you sit down and hear them and get to know him better. Heck, you might even get to know me too. I used to hate the fact he would put everything he saw or heard into his novels. Apparently, I have a habit of fiddling with my sleeves. He notices stuff like that in people, so maybe you’ll notice stuff in yourselves that you didn’t see before. I did. So, I won’t take up any more of your time with things I have to say.
I’ll let his words finally be heard.
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