Creative Writing Response - The Story of Tom Brennan

The Following is A creative response to JC Burke's novel "The Story of Tom Brennan" written from the perspective of the character Fin.

Written 2010 - Tessa Rose O'Neill

Lately I have been having a reoccurring dream. I’m back in the passenger seat of Daniel’s statesman. Daniel is silent. I look back at Nicole and Luke in the back seat, watching the smiles on their faces when suddenly they begin to fade away. As I’m screaming “No, Come back” there is a flash of light and suddenly the car is crushed. I am bleeding and I can’t feel my body. The only thing I can see is Daniel’s face in the distance mouthing the words “I’m sorry man, I’m sorry” and, as per usual, I wake up in a mass of sweat and tears. But, is he sorry?

                My best friends, my cousin and what I believed to be one of the greatest blokes to ever be placed on this planet is now known as a murderer. It seems odd to think that he used to be known as a great footy player and a major ladies man. I can’t stop thinking of the days when Dan, Tom and I would be practicing our footy skills out the back of the old Brennan home. Daniel would flog us every time, and he wasn’t modest about it either, but I didn’t care. He meant well.  But, how could the person that I respected so much, do what he did. That party was meant to be a celebration for the boys, we won the wattle shield and we deserved to have a good time. But that all changed when Daniel started drinking. I’m still so angry with him. Truthfully, I don’t feel sorry for him at all. He got what he deserved. But, what did I do to deserve this? He didn’t respect Clair, I loved her... Love her. “You grovelling little prick!” He screamed at me (page 74). How immature, to think that a fight over a girl could turn this horrible. I can’t write, I can’t dress myself, Can’t tie my shoes, my mum has to wipe my arse for me! I am a freaking vegetable! All because of one selfish bloke who doesn’t think before he does things.  

                Everyday in this petty life is the same. I don’t leave the bed. I sleep in the bed, I eat in the bed, I crap in a pan... whilst still in the bed. Just call me bed ridden Finney. I’m just a waste of space. What hurts the most is thinking of the life experiences I will now miss out on. I won’t get to travel the world, have children of my own, and get a good job. How can I even finish school, I can’t pick up a bloody pen. I miss playing footy with the boys. Actually, I miss the boys in general. I’m so far away from the billi’ I don’t even know if I have friends anymore. Sure I get cards and letters but they are just stupid “I’m sorry” and “Hope your okay” letters. No I’m not okay, what do you think!  Tom comes around every now and then. Being in Coghill now he isn’t too far away. Good bloke, but things have changed now. He always seems so distant and awkward around me. I guess it is awkward when you think about it. I wish it didn’t have to be like that though. I hope Tommy comes around. My birthday is coming up soon, maybe we can have a good chat then.

                I wish things weren’t like this. I’m sick of waking up every morning in a hospital bed. I’m sick of seeing my mum in tears. None of us deserved this. It all just happened. I keep thinking “Why did this happen?”, “Why couldn’t things be different”. All that stuff. The thoughts never leave my mind. Other thoughts come and go, like that hot nurse that does my check ups, but the thoughts about all the other shit are always floating in the back of my head.

 I have been wondering lately, if Dan has actually learnt his lesson from all this and if so, why did it have to come to this for it to sink in to his head how much of a dick he can be. I won’t deny it, I miss him. Wait, no, I miss the Daniel he used to be. The Daniel he was the day Brendan took us down to his secret spot on the river. Is that person still in there? And if he is, where was he the night of the crash. Man, how I wish that I could lock these thoughts away and never think of them again but no, as my councillor, Dr Johns says “Fin, it’s better to get it out in the open. If not you will be a ticking bomb that could explode at any time”

“Ah, yes sir”

                I got a postcard from Clair the other day. She is in Rome. She leaves for Lourdes in a few days (page 195).  God I miss her. I wish I could’ve run away to another country, if I could run. Sigh, this is miserable. All of this because of one girl. But to me she isn’t just a girl. She is the girl. Even now, when she is on the other side of the world, she still makes my heart skip a beat. My happiest moments are always reading her letters and postcards. I wish I could be there for her. She never says anything about it in her letters, but I can imagine that everything would just be eating away at her on the insides. I hope she knows that I will always be there for her. I would do anything for her.

                I have to try to be possitive. Think of the future. But, is there a future for me? Apparently, I’m leaving the hospital soon to go to a rehabilitation facility. Meant to be a pretty flash place. Where I go after there, I wouldn’t have a clue. I’m just taking every day as it comes, one day at a time.